*Isabella's POV*
"Thank you, Damien," I said, turning to face him fully, my voice steady despite the hammering in my chest. "I really appreciate you wanting to give me my freedom, I do. But I can't take it." I took a deep breath, forcing the words out. "Jacob is right. People would find out. And the last thing I want is a scandal before my career has even started." The thought of it, of being "that girl," the one who slept her way into a deal, made my stomach turn.
Damien's jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration in his eyes, but he nodded slowly, understanding my logic. "Fine," he said, his voice all business again. "I can instruct legal to prepare a one-year contract for you."
"One year?" I asked, my brow furrowed. "What's the normal length of the contract?"
"Five years, after graduation," he said, a hint of impatience in his tone. "But I don't think—" he started to say, but I cut him off.
"Damien!" I said, my voice rising with a sudden, fierce determination. "I'll sign it. I'll work here for another six years." I let the words hang in the air, a crazy, impulsive offer. Then I leaned in, a smirk playing on my lips. "Are you bored of me already?" I teased, turning the tables on him completely.
Jacob burst out laughing, a loud, genuine sound that broke the last of the tension in the room.
Damien's eyes darkened, a slow fire igniting in their depths. He moved closer, closing the distance between us in a single, deliberate step. His hand came up, moving under my chin, his fingers gently but firmly tilting my face up to meet his intense gaze.
"I could never," he said, his voice a low that vibrated straight through me.
And then he claimed my lips in a kiss. It wasn't gentle or sweet. It was another fucking claim. A deep, possessive kiss that left no room for doubt. His lips moved against mine with a raw, primal hunger, and in that moment, I knew. I wasn't just signing a contract for a job. I was signing up for them. For all of it. And I was fucking thrilled.
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Later that day, the sterile quiet of Damien's office was shattered by the sound of rustling papers and the soft, frustrated sighs of his brother. Jacob was on a mission, yanking open drawers in the sleek, mahogany desk, his movements frantic and uncoordinated.
"What are you looking for?" Damien finally asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble of irritation. He didn't even look up from the document he was reviewing. "You're annoying."
"I had the sketches for our new project here," Jacob responded, his head buried in a drawer. "Or I could have sworn I had them somewhere around here. I wanted to show them to you." He slammed the drawer shut a little too hard and turned to face his brother, a look of genuine frustration on his face.
"Can't you just print them again?" Damien asked, finally lifting his gaze. His expression was one of pure, unadulterated annoyance, as if Jacob's minor crisis was a personal affront to his carefully controlled world.
"Yeah, I can," Jacob said, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "But I had my own personal notes on them and everything. The good ideas." He gestured vaguely, as if that explained everything.
Damien just rolled his eyes, a gesture of profound, brotherly dismissal. He pulled out his phone, his thumb already scrolling across the screen, effectively ending the conversation and Jacob's search in one swift, cold motion. Jacob was dismissed.
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*Isabella's POV*
That evening, we were seated at the ridiculously long dinner table, a feast spread out before us that looked like it belonged in a magazine. "So, let me get this straight," I said, pointing my fork at Damien. "I can literally order anything I want, and some magical lady will just... cook it for me?"
"Yes, Isabella," Damien responded, a patient, almost amused smile on his face. "That's how all the food appeared in the last week. I have my PA coming here by day to help Violetta create the menus."
I paused, a piece of grilled chicken halfway to my mouth. "You know, I've never actually seen your PA before," I said, a nervous flutter in my stomach. It was weird, living in this huge house with invisible people scurrying around.
"And you've never seen the housekeeper either," he replied, his gaze softening. "I made sure they lay low for a while, so you weren't uncomfortable."
A flash of anger shot through me. "You know I'm not made out of fucking porcelain, alright?" I retorted. "I can meet people."
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Yes, you are made out of porcelain," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble. He moved closer, his hand moving to my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin in a way that made my whole body tingle. "You're precious. Yet all I want to do is break you."
And fuck me, my entire body reacted to that, a warm, familiar heat pooling in my stomach, and my panties.
"Guys," Jacob said, his voice suddenly tense, pulling us away from the moment. "I don't have the best news."
The shift in the atmosphere was immediate, the charged intimacy between me and Damien evaporating. We both turned to look at Jacob, his usual playful demeanor gone, replaced by a deep, sad seriousness.
"I have a situation back in New York," he said, his voice heavy. "And it doesn't look good at all."
Damien was on his feet in an instant, the CEO persona snapping back into place. He walked over to Jacob, his expression grim. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice all business.
"I have to go," Jacob responded with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I kinda need to go right now. Can I take your jet?" he added, his voice laced with urgency.