The Billionaire's Pretend Wife (Isabella) novel Chapter 38

When Jacob’s finger tugged on the towel and it became a little loose, Isabelle snapped out of the trance he had distracted her into. Her face flushed afresh, and as her mind rattled back into work-mode, she realised how precarious her situation was.

She had let this go too far.

Pushing Jacob’s hand away, she ducked under his arm and reached for her door. This time, he didn’t stop her as she twisted the handle and pushed the door open. She slammed it closed behind her–as if to further emphasise that she was not up for whatever he had in mind.

Rushing to her mirror, she pressed her hands to her face and took deep breaths. She had no idea who she was more pissed at–him for teasing her in her state of undress, or her for giving him any sign that she liked it.

It seemed that she was getting too comfortable with him and forgetting that not only was he her pretend husband, but that she was also deceiving him about her identity. Nothing could happen between them as long as she was living a lie.

Outside the door, Jacob cursed and raked his hand through his hair. Had he been too pushy? The last thing he wanted was to scare her away or make her vigilant around him. Their relationship had come a long way from when they were newlyweds wary of each other–or, to be honest, him being wary of her–and he didn’t want things to go back to that.

With a last longing look at her door, he walked to the kitchen for a cold drink to help him cool down.

***

As Isabelle walked into the company building the next morning, a sense of foreboding loomed over her and refused to let go. She clutched her bag tightly in her hand to keep her hands from trembling, and ended up digging her nails into her palms.

Trying to calm herself down was impossible. Even while she tried to not fall apart on the outside, her heart was thudding in her chest, and she was certain that was why she was feeling light-headed.

It got worse as she got in the elevator and headed to her office floor. In less than a minute, she was going to walk into her department. Where Mr Grayson was probably waiting to make her pay for the previous night’s incident.

Jacob’s assurances had almost convinced her that she didn’t have to worry, but none of that confidence he had instilled in her remained. She was walking into the lion’s den alone, and heaven only knew whether she would walk out with her job.

The morning began without any incident, and she almost believed that Mr Grayson had no intention of hunting her down for revenge. But that belief was crushed when a short while after ten o’clock, he walked out of his office and came straight to her desk.

“Ms Cruz, you’re fired,” he said, loud enough for her and whoever else was in the vicinity to hear.

She opened her mouth to say something, but his sudden announcement had shocked her into speechlessness.

When he saw that she wasn’t saying anything, he proceeded, “Clear out your desk as fast as possible, you’re no longer a part of this company.”

It was when he turned away to leave that she shot to her feet, finding her voice. “Why?” she asked. Of course she knew why, but he couldn’t give that as a reason for firing her, could he? She wanted to know what excuse he was using to get his revenge.

Mr Grayson turned around and gave her a hateful glare. “Because you are not suitable for the position,” he replied.

Not good enough for the position? That was what he was going with? After the gruesome interviewing process she had gone through and aced? “How am I not suitable?” she demanded.

A murmur rose among her coworkers.

“Her design got selected for the autumn winter series exhibition,” someone said. “I’m pretty sure she’s suitable.”

Mr Grayson threw a glare towards the person who said that. “I’m the department director, I’m sure I know better than you who’s suitable for this job.”