*Isabella's POV*
"I'd love to," I replied, a slight blush creeping up my neck that I fucking hated. It made me feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.
"Good," he said, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Well, prepare yourself."
"For what?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"Pack a small bag. Maybe some warm clothes. We may be gone for the weekend," he said, his tone casual, as if he'd just suggested we grab a coffee.
"Oh, okay," I said, my mind racing. "You've got me intrigued now. Where are we going?" I asked, but he just gave me a knowing, infuriating smirk.
"It's a surprise," he replied.
I'm not a fan of surprises," I countered, my voice dropping to a whiny, pleading tone. "Damien," I begged, dragging his name out with a pout that would have worked on Jacob, but on him... it was useless.
He simply sat back down in his big, leather chair, the CEO persona snapping back into place as if the last half-hour had never happened. He picked up a pen, his eyes already on a document on his desk.
"That will be all, Ms. Williams," he said, dismissing me without a second glance.
Fuck.
I left his office, headed to mine, trying to regain some semblance of composure, only to find Cole leaning against my desk, a knowing look on his face.
"What's up?" he asked, but I was so caught off guard. No biggie, it's just Cole. Who the fuck was I kidding? He's great at seeing these things, and right now, I must look like I've been through a goddamn wind tunnel. My hair is a mess, my skirt is on backwards, and I have a distinct post-sex glow that no amount of foundation can hide. He's going to notice.
"Isabella, where were you?" he asked, his eyes scanning me from head to toe.
"Huh? Where... where does it look like? In Damien's office," I tried, attempting my usual sarcasm to throw him off, but I ended up stuttering nervously like a fucking idiot.
"In 'Damien's office'," he said, making air quotes with his hands. "Sure. I've been waiting for you for a while now. You still want to eat out?" he asked, his voice dripping with suspicion.
"What? Oh, right, we had plans. Sorry, I forgot," I said, my voice weak.
"I'll bet you did," he replied.
Oh, for fucks sake, stop. This is nerve-wrecking. "I love your shirt!" I said, a last-ditch attempt to change the subject. "Pink is definitely your colour," I added, and for a second, it seemed to work.
"Thank you," he said. "But nice try," he added.
Fuck, I guess not.
"Whatever, let's just go," I said, grabbing my purse and pulling him towards the door, desperate to escape his interrogation.
*Friday Night*
We were seated peacefully at the dinner table. For once, there was no tension, no weird, unspoken bullshit hanging in the air. We were just... eating and laughing. It felt nice, peaceful.
"See, we have plenty of dinner dates," I said, a smug little smile on my face as I twirled some pasta on my fork. "No need to make a big deal about it."
"Isabella," he said, his voice low but firm, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You will get a real date."
I giggled. "But I have a good time with you anyway," I said, and it was the truth. This easy, comfortable silence with him was more precious than any five-star restaurant.
"Goodnight, Isabella," he said, leaning over. He kissed my cheek softly, a gesture so tender it made my heart ache.
I watched him stand up, a nervous flutter in my stomach. "Should I... expect you in my room later?" I asked, looking down at my plate, suddenly feeling shy and vulnerable.
"Not today, love," he said. The word hit me like a fucking bolt from the blue. Love? That's new. Unexpected but okay, I'm not complaining. His hand came up, gently tilting my chin, forcing me to meet his intense gaze. My breath hitched.
"At 6 am we have to go," he said, his tone shifting back to business, the boss in him taking over. "Get all the rest you can tonight." He added, before turning and walking out of the dining room.
A fucking groan escaped my lips. Argg, 6 am. So early. But despite the annoyance, a thrill of excitement ran through me. A surprise weekend with Damien Lancaster. I had a feeling it was going to be anything but boring.
My inner perfectionist needed to know what we were doing, where we were going, what the fucking dress code was. I hate not knowing everything. It's a control thing, I get it. My brain was already running through a dozen different scenarios, trying to piece together the clues from our conversation. 'Warm clothes' could mean anything from a mountain cabin to a chilly city break. It was driving me insane.
But... the mystery kind of intrigued me. In a good way. It was a weird feeling, letting go of the reins, especially to a man like Damien
For once, I wasn't the one planning everything, and as much as it terrified the control-freak in me, a small, thrill-seeking part of me was fucking loving it.
But for now, I guess I'll just sleep. My brain could plot and plan all it wanted tomorrow. After all, I had a date to get ready for. A real one haha.
*Saturday*
My alarm went off at the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m., and for a second, I thought about smashing my phone against the wall. But then I remembered. The surprise. A thrill of excitement, sharp and potent, cut through the morning daze.
I took a quick, hot shower, letting the steam wake me up, before I got dressed. I decided on a black baggy jean and a simple white crop top, a pair of Nike sneakers.
It was casual, but still cute. I threw my hair up in a high ponytail and put on a light face of makeup, just enough to look alive. Grabbing the small bag I'd packed last night , I headed downstairs.
The house was still and silent, a sleeping giant. I found Tony waiting by the door, a stoic, unchanging presence. He gave me a small nod and led me outside to the car. We drove through the empty, streets, the city still dark and quiet.
But we didn't head to any road I knew. Tony took a different turn, driving through a set of large, industrial gates. And then I saw it. A massive, private airplane hanger.
Wait a fucking minute.
We're taking his plane?