Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 87

Diana, watching the two of them absorbed in their own world, couldn't help but feel a bit like a third wheel.

It was supposed to be a welcome dinner, yet the guest of honor was sitting off to the side.

"Ms. Williams, no need to stand on ceremony—the menu has been taken care of," Damian said with a polite smile.

Soon, dishes began arriving one after another, and Brian entered the room as well.

They were drinking sparkling cider—no alcohol was served.

"Diana isn't planning to leave again this time. She wants to open a studio somewhere in the city. Do you have any leads?" Isabelle placed a piece of grilled meat in Damian's plate.

"That shouldn't be a problem at all. Send me the specifications and requirements later, and I'll have some contacts keep an eye out."

"Then I'll thank you in advance, Mr. Cross," Diana said, raising her glass of cider toward him.

After the meal, Tiana and Brian sat on the sofa in the adjoining lounge, attending to work.

Diana, who hadn't been back in the country for long, was thoroughly enjoying the food, looking completely satisfied.

Isabelle had excused herself to the restroom.

Meanwhile, Damian opened the messaging app where he had recently added Muddlehead and began examining the account closely.

He browsed through the linked portfolio and profile information, a persistent sense of familiarity tugging at him.

On her way back from the restroom, Isabelle passed by a slightly ajar private room and overheard a familiar name from within.

"That Daisy..."

The speaker was a portly middle-aged man with a round face and a salacious grin.

She paused and stopped walking.

"Only been open for two days and already dreaming of hitting the big time—it's not that easy, is it?"

"Relying on her family's name, she's in such a hurry to wine and dine us. Impatient, isn't she?"

"Impatience isn't the issue—it's what kind of impatience we're talking about..."

The room erupted in raucous laughter.

"Now, now, she's just a young woman. Don't scare her off—she still has to do business here." A sultry female voice chimed in.

"Business will definitely be done—and other things can be taken care of at the same time!"

Another round of hearty laughter followed.

"All jokes aside—whoever gets her to drink this glass gets my family's contracts from now on!"

*****

That glass likely contained more than just wine.

Isabelle smiled faintly, just as she spotted Daisy walking toward her from down the hall.

"What a coincidence." Isabelle stepped forward to greet her.

Daisy completely ignored her.

"No need to rush off." Isabelle signaled with her eyes and stopped at a nearby corner.

"What, running out of money and looking for leads?"

"Hardly. I finally managed to get out of bed—I need some proper food to recover, or I'll suffer again tonight."

Daisy always felt at a disadvantage when talking to her.

"Spit it out," she said impatiently, glancing toward the private room.

Isabelle reached out and subtly adjusted the collar of Daisy's blouse, covering a bit more of the exposed skin.

Daisy swatted her hand away in distaste.

Isabelle smiled and said, "You've already had quite a bit to drink tonight, haven't you? I wouldn't have any more if I were you. You might not remember where you wake up tomorrow."

*****

Much later, the room carried the faint, intimate scent of their shared warmth.

Leaning against the bathroom doorway, she patted her flushed cheeks with both hands.

This must be what they meant by "once tasted, never forgotten".

She had thought she would be more restrained.

It turned out she wasn't any better.

She bit her lip and quickly wrapped herself in the plush bathrobe, not daring to look any longer.

Walking out of the bathroom, her legs felt unsteady.

She tried her best to move naturally.

Back in the bedroom, he had just finished changing the sheets.

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

Earlier, in the private dining room, she had stretched a half-hour meal into a full hour, trying to delay their return.

Even though she had burned considerable energy, she wasn't hungry again yet.

He removed his own robe, leaving only a pair of lounge pants.

Isabelle quickly averted her eyes and retreated to the walk-in closet, where she found a modest set of pajamas to change into.

Then she began her skincare routine.

But her mind kept replaying the vivid scenes from earlier—him drenched in sweat, his arms braced on either side of her, insisting in a husky voice, "Your previous estimate was off. Let's measure again, properly this time."