All Chapters of The billionaire virgin wife: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The scent of garlic and olive oil drifted lazily through the penthouse kitchen, curling around the stainless steel appliances and the polished marble floor like a private invitation. Isabella shifted on her bare feet, feeling the cool tiles press against her skin. Her apron was tied in a lopsided knot at her waist, straps cutting slightly into her shoulders, and a stray lock of hair had escaped, brushing against her cheek. She felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the apron.Damian leaned against the counter across from her, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the light catching the lines of his strong forearms. He watched her with a calm intensity that made her chest flutter. Every time her eyes met his, a small, dangerous thrill ran through her.“You’re staring at me again,” she muttered, slicing an onion with more caution than skill. The knife wobbled slightly in her hand.“I’m observing,” he said smoothly. His voice was quiet but firm, carrying the kind of authority that

The next evening, Damian kept his promise.He led Isabella down a quiet hallway in the penthouse, stopping before a door she had never noticed before. Without a word, he unlocked it and pushed it open.Her breath caught.The room was nothing like the sleek, modern elegance of the rest of his home. It was warm, dimly lit, filled with shelves stacked high with leather-bound notebooks, loose sketches pinned to the walls, and a grand piano resting quietly in the corner. There were scattered brushes and jars of ink, a scattering of charcoal sticks, and stacks of paper that looked as though they had been waiting for someone to notice them for years. A soft golden lamp threw a pool of light over a worn rug that softened the wooden floor, giving the space a sanctuary-like aura. It was private, sacred, and entirely Damian.She stepped forward, toes brushing against the edge of the rug, and her eyes swept over the room in awe. She could feel the weight of his presence in a way that was differen

The silence in Damian’s office was suffocating, thick like the heat before a storm. Isabella sat perched on the edge of the leather chair, her fingers twisting the hem of her blouse so tightly she felt the fabric bite into her skin. Her thoughts spun like a cyclone, each one sharper than the last. Every glance she had felt outside, every whispered judgment, seemed to crawl into the room with her, settling on her shoulders like a physical weight.Damian remained at the window, his back rigid, shoulders squared, as if the entire city beyond the glass were a threat he alone could fend off. His jaw was set, his fists flexing at his sides as though the tension in his body could turn the steel and concrete around them into dust. For a long moment, he said nothing. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant rush of traffic below, but it felt as if even that had been swallowed by the thick tension that hovered between them.Finally, Isabella’s voice, soft and tre

The ballroom glittered with gold and crystal, chandeliers spilling light over gowns worth more than Isabella’s yearly salary back when she was a secretary. Every corner of the room radiated wealth and influence. Waiters glided by with trays of champagne, the bubbles catching the light and floating in the air like tiny stars. A string quartet played softly in the corner, but their music seemed almost a whisper against the tension that now gripped Isabella’s chest.She stood in a backless black dress Damian had chosen for her, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places. His hand was warm and steady on the small of her back, anchoring her amidst the storm of stares that followed her everywhere. Yet no matter how much Damian’s presence grounded her, her chest still tightened with nerves. The room was full of eyes , curious, judgmental, unforgiving and every gaze felt like it was peeling her open, inspecting her, and finding her wanting.“They’re staring,” she whispered, he

The event final toast was a blur for Isabella. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter echoed, and chandeliers shimmered with light that seemed almost too bright. She smiled politely when someone bowed in her direction, and nodded when compliments were tossed her way. Yet beneath every courteous gesture, every well-mannered word, she felt the stares. Sharp, piercing eyes trailed her wherever she went. Each whisper felt like a tiny thorn pressed against her skin, reminding her that tonight, she was the center of more than admiration, she was the center of scrutiny.Her pulse raced as she moved through the throng, Damian always just a step behind. His hand occasionally brushed hers, a quiet tether, but she didn’t dare relax. Not here, not now. Somewhere in the corner of the vast ballroom, Helena watched. She was poised and serene, the image of calm sophistication, yet her gaze was a dagger disguised as interest. Isabella’s stomach churned, remembering the last few weeks, the scheming, the rum