Chapter 10 Check and Mate

Days later, Isla was sitting alone in the office of her new boutique, her manicured fingers eagerly skimming over the contract papers spread before her.

From what she was seeing, her business proposal had won multiple grants, zero-interest loans, and exclusive sponsorships.

One after another, the contracts bore the names of the high-profile investors and elite brands that had endorsed her. This was the kind of win she ordinarily would have spent years trying and failing to get the attention of, but like magic, it was lying freely on her palms.

"Wait...is this for real?"

Her expression hardened slightly as she queried herself. It was true that she had worked tirelessly for this, she had poured every element of her ambition into this dream business for some time now.

But even so... this came way too easy.

"Too convenient."

Just like that? Her brows knitted as she leaned back into the chair in contemplation.

The rhythmic tapping of her finger against the desk echoed softly as she tried to reason the whole thing again from scratch.

After some minutes, it finally occurred.

The magic was in her new title.

Mrs. Blackwood.

Her eyes flashed as a knowing hum left her lips.

She rested her chin lightly on her palm. So It wasn't just her hard work. No, this was him.

It was Damien.

She could swear he must have pulled the strings from the shadows, made the calls, twisted the right arms.

"How predictably of him."

He had breathed life into her once unreachable dreams, but dreams were supposed to come easily.

Was this still a favor or a carefully laid trap?

~~~

The day of the launch came a little quicker, Isla found herself in a bubble of flashing cameras, as usual. Eager reporters and an overwhelming crowd of industry elites, fashion influencers, and investors were all present.

The spacious venue was adorned with the most modern of decors, and an exclusive section was reserved to showcase her brand's newest collection.

Hundreds of models moved with poise, and expensive glasses clinked in the hands of VIP guests who whispered about her with admiration.

Even the media had already given the event a perfect name:

"Isla Carter's Reinvention."

An entourage of assistants and PR executives followed her about as she handled one interview after another, smiling all through and her responses sharp and eloquent.

Things continued this way until suddenly the energy in the hall shifted as every face turned in a singular direction.

Isla's instincts told her who it was before she even looked, she was beginning to get used to that peculiar atmosphere.

An atmosphere commanded by no other person but her husband, Damien, had arrived.

The same Damian Blackwood who was popular for never attending such events, who loathed public appearances that weren't strictly related to his company, it was that same man who had just walked into her launch.

A chill ran down her spine as she turned, her posture betraying none of her surprise.

She was getting used to how to play the game.

But nothing prepared her for what happened after this.

Damien walked through the sea of stunned faces and awed salutations, and then the moment his blue eyes found her own, they glowed. Confidently, he swaggered straight to where she stood and before she could brace herself, he was upon her, closing the space between them to create an intimacy that sent the crowd into a mad frenzy.

His arm slid around her waist, pulling her close so that she felt the steady beat of his heart. His touch is so warm, so possessive.

Isla was still struggling with how to contain this excessive show of affection without melting, that was when he suddenly murmured the word.

"Babe,"

Her heart stopped for a second, she watched him in quiet alarm as he started to lean in slowly, his lips brushing dangerously close to her ear, his voice a seductive whisper.

"Just breathe, I'm right here."

A gasp almost escaped her, but she quickly covered up with a slow deliberate blink.

The reporters, at this point, went wild. Excited cameras flashed even; a few others clapped, got tired, and started clapping over again while some just kept pointing and pointing.

Isla should have been prepared for this performance, but what unnerved her, what sent heat rushing to the nape of her neck was her reaction to Damien's so-called performance.

Starting from the blush creeping into her cheeks to the trembling cadence of her heartbeat to her genuine shyness.

This wasn't a performance for her. It was becoming real, and that terrified her.

~~~

That night, back at the mansion, Isla took a seat on one of the cream couches in the sitting room head slightly bowed and her mood pensive.

She was thinking about how she had spent the last few weeks adjusting to the privileges, the influence, the too many doors of favor swinging open at the mere mention of her new title...Mrs. Blackwood.

But tonight, after all that had happened back there and after giving everything a proper thought, one fact stood out against the luxury surrounding her.

She was the only one benefiting from this.

Damien's business empire was already untouchable. His power was unmatched. Nothing had changed remarkably for him after the marriage.

It also was not looking like he had much to gain from her success at least, nothing that she could point out.

So why?

She shifted her gaze to where Damien stood near the grand bar pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

Isla quietly studied him, with her eyes narrowed to slits.

What was his endgame really? And how, again, was any of it connected to her?

She allowed a pause to draw a steady breath before finally clearing her throat.

Then, giving herself little time to think she spat out the burning question.

"Tell me, Damien. What do you want from all this?"

He heard her clearly but didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took his time, tilting his head back slightly as he finished his drink.

The silence was tentative as he swallowed slowly.

Only when the glass was empty did he finally lower it, setting it down against the marble counter.

Then, with a ghostly smirk, he turned his face in her direction, swirling the remaining ice in his glass.

"You're finally asking the right question."

Isla crosses her arms, waiting. "And?"

Damien sets his glass down and walks toward her, closing the distance between them.

His gaze is unreadable as he tilts her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

"The thing Nate could never take back," he murmurs. "That's what I want."