Chapter 716 Dangerously Possessive
Isadora woke to the muted light of morning spilling into the hotel suite.
From the bathroom came the steady rush of water. Avery was showering. She turned her head toward the sound, and through the frosted glass she could make out the blurred outline of his body—broad shoulders, long limbs, the suggestion of power in every line. Even half-hidden, the sight sent an involuntary heat curling low in her stomach.
Her mind flicked back to the night before. The restless hours. The way she had given in to him—more than given in, matched him, step for step, breath for breath. Things she had never tried before, he had coaxed from her, and she had followed willingly. Too willingly.
The water stopped.
A moment later, Avery emerged with a towel slung low around his hips, droplets clinging to the ends of his hair. His face—handsome, sharp—still carried the faint afterglow of a night spent without restraint.
He crossed the room, rubbing his hair with another towel, and sat on the edge of the bed. His fingers brushed her cheek, his voice low and warm, "Why didn't you sleep a little longer?"
She didn't pull away. Instead, she rested her head against the solid curve of his arm, one hand slipping around his lean waist. They stayed like that, quiet, breathing each other in. It was rare for her to be this soft, and Avery lingered in the moment, almost greedy for it. He had never realized that intimacy could be this—still, unhurried, and somehow more beautiful than sweat and urgency.
After a long pause, Isadora's voice came, quiet. "Avery, what are we now?"
"Lovers," he said without hesitation. "Whatever you want. You can keep me as long as you like—until you've had enough."
It rolled off his tongue so easily, so shamelessly, that she almost laughed. She didn't believe a word of it. But she had to admit—being with this version of Avery was… easy. No pressure. No second-guessing whether he'd get angry or walk away. No worrying about tomorrow.
She didn't argue.
Maybe, she thought, this was exactly what they should be—lovers, nothing more.
When they left the mountain hotel and returned to their separate lives, nothing was made public. But the diamond ring he had given her stayed hidden on a chain around her neck. If one day she decided it was time to marry him, she would slip it onto her finger. If not, she would give it back.
For once, she felt at peace with herself.
That evening, the Montague Mansion blazed with light.
Taylor and Julian had returned, bringing Luna to play with Maggie. The two children were inseparable, laughter echoing through the grand rooms.
Henry and Amelia watched them, then let their eyes drift to the gentle swell of Taylor's belly, a quiet warmth blooming in their chests.
Henry turned to Avery. "You're the only one left."
Avery lounged on the sofa, long legs crossed, idly turning a gold pen between his fingers.
At Henry's words, he looked up. "I'm looking at houses. There's a villa—forty thousand square feet, three floors, twelve bedrooms. Perfect for a family."
Henry blinked. When had Avery and Isadora made up?
"Already have," Avery said, as if reading his mind. "No need to shout it from the rooftops."
Henry laughed, shaking his head. Avery looked entirely too pleased with himself. "We're taking some time for ourselves first," Avery added.
Henry snorted. "Time for yourselves? More like you're the only one who thinks that. I bet Isadora hasn't even agreed."
Avery didn't bother to reply, wearing the expression of a man very much in love. Across the room, Taylor and Julian exchanged a knowing smile.
Early autumn. Maggie's first day back at school.
Avery and Isadora dropped her off together. Maggie, backpack bouncing, skipped into the kindergarten, her small hand clasped by the smiling teacher. When she was out of sight, they returned to the car.
Isadora buckled her seatbelt. "Take me to the office. I've got a meeting this morning."
Avery gripped the steering wheel, then glanced at her, a spark in his eyes. "It's been a while since we've made love. Don't you miss me?"
She turned her head, meeting his gaze. After a beat, she sighed and gave in—two hours, no more.
Heat surged through him at her agreement, and he leaned over to kiss her, voice rough with want. "Two hours isn't enough. I've been waiting too long."
Her arms slid around his neck, her voice soft. "I really do have work. When this project's over, I'll take a whole day just for you. But I can't drop everything. I've got a thousand people depending on me."
She tilted her head back to look at him, expecting a flicker of annoyance. Instead, his eyes were steady.
"Is that really what you think of me? That I'm just some selfish bastard who only cares about sex?"
She almost said yes—but he looked so serious, so unguarded, that she couldn't.
On the way to the hotel, he asked casually, "Work going well? If you need help, you know I'm available. And I throw in a strong body for free."
He said it lightly, a joke to protect her pride. She caught the warmth behind the words, and her chest tightened, though she hid it well. "No. Everything's fine."
His hand found hers, holding it all the way to the hotel. In the parking garage, he turned to her. "I bought a place. Perfect for three people. We could move in at New Year."
Then, almost shyly, "And maybe you could buy me a platinum ring. Doesn't have to be expensive—just enough so I look married. You have no idea how many women chase me."
He was serious, with just a trace of wounded pride.
"Avery, are you sure? If you marry me, it's for life. No flirting, no other women in your hotel room—especially not ones taking off their stockings. If you do, I'll cut it off. You know exactly what I mean."
He paused, then a slow grin spread across his face. "Isadora, I like it when you get possessive."
He kissed her, and she cupped his face, feeling the heat in his skin. After a long kiss, she whispered, "Let's wait until I'm less busy."
He didn't push. The suite they took was the presidential on the top floor—Montague Group property, of course. Today, he was quieter than usual, but more intense.
By the end, she was breathless, calling him husband more than once. He could have gone again—he always did—but today, he let her go after one. She was grateful.
After his shower, he lit a cigarette on the balcony, then came back to help her dress. Heat rushed to Isadora's face.
She thought, not for the first time, that if she weren't so busy, she'd want to give him more of her time. But the project in Twilight City was still unresolved, and tonight the key people were coming to Evergreen City. She had to be there.
What she didn't know was that Avery had guessed most of her thoughts.
That night, outside Evergreen City's most exclusive business club.
Isadora stepped out of the car, her secretary close behind. "The man you're meeting—Clarence Fisher—he's got history with the Montague family. If you bring up Mr. Montague, or better yet, have him call, this'll be done in minutes."
Isadora stood in the neon glow, black suit perfectly cut, hair swept back, the diamond ring hidden beneath her collar.
"You're right," she said quietly. "But I don't want to rely on Avery for everything. I can handle this."
Her secretary didn't understand. Isadora knew she wouldn't. Things with Avery were good now—so good she didn't want to taint them with business favors.
Five minutes later, they stepped into the private room.
She froze.
Avery was there. Sitting with Clarence Fisher.
For a moment, she could only stare, caught between surprise and disbelief. In the warm light, her expression must have been almost… endearing.
Her secretary's mind was already racing—this was perfect. Avery had just saved her from a long night of drinking.
"Avery," she managed at last, "what are you doing here?"
His gaze was unreadable. Instead of answering, he turned to Clarence. "Isadora. My fiancée. And Maggie's mother."