Chapter 2

A wicked grin gradually grew over her lips. Why negotiate with pawns when she can command a king?

Isabelle hurriedly grabbed her phone and messaged Anna, asking her to set up a meeting with Damien Blackwood for today.

She was motivated to give her best to the business and was willing to take chances.

The following evening, Isabelle visited Blackwood Holdings' magnificent penthouse. She successfully walked past numerous tiers of security, experiencing a rush of excitement as she reached the top.

She entered the private elevator and was greeted by a wide open-concept area with a wall of windows that provided a stunning view of the colorful Manhattan skyline. The subdued lighting and sleek, subtle architecture combined to create a sense of purposeful luxury.

Damien Blackwood stood before the floor-to-ceiling views, looking like a melancholy literary figure.

Draped in a graphite robe that highlighted his well-defined, gym-toned figure, the contours of his naked chest could be seen through the sumptuous fabric. As she walked in, he turned with predatory elegance, his eyes sparkling like a panther's as they swept over her.

"Ms. Wakefield," he purred, and she realized with surprise that his voice might easily be bottled and sold as an aphrodisiac. "What an unexpected pleasure."

"I'm sure it is," she said cynically, attempting not to be alarmed by his deliberate evaluation. "But this is simply a business meeting, I assure you."

His lips twisted into a wolfish smile. "True? "I appreciate combining business and recreation."

He moved confidently towards her, his bare feet making little sounds on the smooth floor. "I must confess, you've intrigued me by venturing into the wolf's den."

Isabelle resisted the need to retreat, holding her eyes as he approached and entered her personal space.

His charisma was undeniable up close. His nice perfume, paired with the warmth of his flesh, was detectable to her, as was the tremendous heat emanating from his body. However, she refused to be intimidated and proudly raised her chin.

"Mr. Blackwood, I've come to propose a business agreement. If you're open to an...unconventional arrangement, it may be quite beneficial to both of us.

One of his brows lifted. "I'm listening attentively."

She stood tall. "I'm about to complete the merger of Saxon Industries. It's a significant accomplishment worth billions of dollars that would secure my legacy. However, there is a conventional, sexist requirement: the Saxon board will only sanction the merger if I am married."

Damien's lips compressed in disgust, but his eyes shone with fascination. "It's shocking that they still retain such outmoded beliefs. But I don't see how this impacts me other than as a sympathetic listener to this clear prejudice."

"It's simple," Isabelle said plainly. "I propose that we enter into a temporary marriage contract until the Saxon arrangement is finalized and announced. A realistic answer to their foolishness, which may also benefit you."

She could see the machinations beginning to unfold behind those stunning jade eyes as he considered her brazen suggestion. After a long pause, he flung back his head and laughed, a deep, rolling sound that was simultaneously cynical and joyful.

"You're asking the world's most notorious bachelor to bind himself to a lady, even if just for a short time? "How absolutely delicious."

Prowling in a leisurely circle about her, he fixed that piercing gaze on her.

 "Do you have a strong motivation in mind other than just pleasing those old-fashioned people at Saxon?"

Isabelle stood her ground, her head held high in the face of his penetrating gaze. "I propose a strategic alliance in which we pool our skills and influence to benefit both parties. With your financial backing and my merger experience, we could rule this city within a year."

His lips curled, revealing teeth stained with booze. "Ms. Wakefield, ambition works well for you. Honesty also counts. But let's have a glass of wine and talk about the finer points of this morally problematic plan.

He walked up to a sparkling bar, where a crystal decanter awaited him, pointing to one of the low leather sofas.

Isabelle sat down on the buttery leather as he poured two generous glasses of rich burgundy drink, uncomfortably conscious of how effortlessly he had taken control of his own turf.

As he offered her the goblet, their fingers brushed lightly, sending goosebumps up her arm. Damien appeared to notice her shiver and his expression darkened with something other than mirth.

"Are you getting cold feet already, my dear?" We have only just begun to discuss the finer...details of this lovely perversion."

Lifting his glass in a faux toast, his lips curled in a lustful smile. "Here's to really getting to know one another in the most...intimate sense."

Isabelle's throat turned to sandpaper, but she refused to be intimidated by his obvious posturing. If she wanted this deal, she needed to match his confidence.

Unable to take her attention away from his, she put her glass to her painted lips and took a deep, sensual drink, allowing a shimmering droplet to trickle down her neck. Then, retaining his searing gaze, she delicately ran her fingertip through the remaining fluid and sucked it between her lips with a soft gasp.

"You're going to find I'm full of surprises, Mr. Blackwood," she said with pleasure. "Do try to keep up."

His sculpted features burst with raw, flaming hunger, indicating that this would not be a typical business transaction. Isabelle suspected, for better or worse, that she had struck a deal with the devil himself.

He settled on the sofa opposite her with his muscular form and devoured her with a molten gaze, giving her the exciting sensation of having just stepped into the abyss. And she may be consumed by it.