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The collision
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2025-08-09 17:51:25
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The billionaire virgin wife Watching eyes
The glass walls of Damian’s office gave him a clear view of the entire floor, a throne overseeing his kingdom. From up here, he didn’t just manage a business; he ruled it. Every movement, every conversation, every hesitation from his employees was laid bare to him, visible through the seamless expanse of glass like fish in an aquarium.The hum of activity drifted faintly from the open workspace: keyboards tapping in uneven rhythms, muffled conversations blending into a constant low murmur, the occasional ring of a phone that cut through the quiet like a sharp bell. But the noise never distracted him. Not today.Today, his attention was elsewhere. Singular. Fixed.Isabella sat at her desk, her profile lit in the pale glow of her computer screen. Around her lay the telltale signs of a day half-finished with paper files arranged in neat stacks, a pen abandoned atop an open notepad, a half-empty coffee cup cooling beside her mouse. The organization of her workspace contrasted sharply with
The billionaire virgin wife Small tasks , Big signs
The next day.The morning sun filtered weakly through the tall office windows, casting long, pale shadows across the sleek surfaces of the Jaxon Corp boardroom. Isabella barely noticed the light. Her mind was tangled in the aftermath of last night’s drive , the way Damian had handled the wheel, not recklessly but with a controlled intensity that seemed to mirror the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. His gaze, dark and unreadable, had lingered on her in moments when the city lights painted his face in gold and shadow. It was the kind of look that felt like it could strip away every wall she had built around herself.Even now, hours later, the memory of it made her chest feel tight. It was ridiculous, how easily he could unsettle her without even touching her, without even saying anything to her. Just his gaze was enough to do the job.Her phone buzzed sharply against the polished wood of her desk, yanking her back from the haze. She blinked, shaking off the echo of his prese
The billionaire virgin wife The parking garage
Isabella’s steps echoed hollowly against the cold concrete as she made her way to the elevator. The city’s skyline glittered beyond the entrance like distant stars, unreachable and indifferent. She told herself again she was fine , but the weight of that note lingered like a shadow clinging to her skin, cold and insistent. If her dreams were coming to pass how far would it go.Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, knuckles white. The memory of the dark, slanted handwriting burned behind her eyelids: You don’t belong here. Leave before you’re erased.She swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising in her throat. Was the threat real? Or just a cruel echo of the ghosts she’d tried so desperately to outrun? The past had a way of clawing back when she least expected it , when she thought she was safe. When she thought they were just dreams.She reached the underground garage ready to book her ride , when suddenly a voice broke through the silence, low and calm, close enough to make
The billionaire virgin wife The coffee line
The next morning, Isabella told herself she was fine.She repeated it while buttoning her blouse, smoothing the pale blouse over her ribs as if neatness alone could press calm into her bones. She repeated it while fastening the thin gold chain of her necklace, her fingers trembling only once when the clasp caught. She repeated it while riding the elevator up to the thirty-first floor, the metallic hum surrounding her like a slow, steady heartbeat.She was fine.Work was work, and dreams were just… dreams.But the truth was heavier than the words she kept forcing into her head.That dream , the one she’d had before escaping to New York , still clung to her like smoke that refused to clear. The flashes came without warning: the dim, lonely glow of an office lamp; the weight of a paper in her hand; the sharp tug of dread in her chest even before her eyes took in the words. She could still remember the way her pulse had stuttered in that dream, the taste of fear like metal on her tongue.
The billionaire virgin wife The Weight of Tomorrow
The quiet after Damian left felt louder than the night itself.Isabella stood behind the door for several seconds after it shut, her hand still curled loosely around the handle, her ears straining for the sound of his footsteps on the hallway’s marble floor. She heard them, fading into nothing, then the distant, low purr of his car’s engine when he reached the street. It was almost a comfort, until the taillights vanished from her imagination, leaving her in silence.She turned the lock with a soft click and leaned her forehead against the cool wood, exhaling slowly. Her body was tired, but her mind… her mind was still back there, in the near-kiss that had left her dizzy.It was ridiculous, how one almost-moment could take up so much space in her chest. The way his gaze had lingered on her mouth, the subtle pull of his body toward hers, it had been deliberate. Damian didn’t almost do anything. Which meant he had stopped himself for a reason.That should have been a relief.It wasn’t.
The billionaire virgin wife The dinner
The elevator doors whispered shut behind Isabella, and for a brief moment, she thought she might finally breathe. She pressed her back against the paneled wall, closing her eyes, but the echo of his voice lingered like smoke.Seven. Lancaster Hotel. Formal.Not an invitation. An order.By the time the car dropped her outside her apartment, the winter sky had deepened into a bruised violet, the horizon bleeding into the first hints of night. The wind scraped cold against her cheeks as she climbed the building’s worn marble steps, her heels clicking in a rhythm that sounded far too loud for the empty stairwell.Inside, the stillness wrapped around her, but it wasn’t comforting. The air seemed heavier, as though Damian’s presence had seeped into the walls, following her home.She set her bag down on the narrow console by the door, slipping off her pumps and flexing her sore toes against the cool floorboards. The quiet tick of the clock was the only sound, but her chest still felt tight.
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