Chapter 6 A STOLEN KISS.

Chapter 6 A STOLEN KISS.
Isabel's POV.

The clock was showing something ridiculous like eleven thirty, but the air in Mr Sterling study was high noon stressful. I’d been married for almost three weeks, long enough for this house to feel like a very real, very small prison.

So I decided to start working for the Sterling Company. If I couldn't escape the cage, I could at least learn its controls. Anything to make this marriage feel like a burden it truly was.

Mr. Sterling was in his study with me while he yelled into a speakerphone about the Thorne acquisition. When he ended the call, his face was red with panic and that made him look older than he did at our wedding 

“The data is worthless. Absolutely worthless,” he muttered, running a shaky hand over his scalp. “Damien finished the real stress tests hours ago. He’s in his damn study. I need the revised sheet, physical copy and I need him now.”

I swallowed.

“Sir, I can send a text—”

“No. He will ignore the message and It is supposed to be confidential.You’re family, Isabel. You go,” he snapped, pointing toward the corridor. “He won’t ignore you. Just get the file. Get him. Don’t return without both.”

It wasn't a request. It was an order and he made that clear.

I felt the blood drain from my face as I walked toward the west wing of the house. When I reached Damien’s study door, I found it slightly open.

I didn't bother knocking. I just shoved the door inward and stepped inside.

He was standing, leaning against his leather chair, a phone in his hand. He wore a dark sweater, and he ended his call instantly the second he saw me, his intense gaze locking onto mine.

“Finally decided to visit, little bride?” he murmured.

“Your father needs you,” I forced out. I kept my hands clamped together. “The Thorne data is flawed. He sent me for the revised projections, and he needs you downstairs.”

He moved, pushing away from the chair. “So Adrian’s wife is running errands for the Sterling Group. How fitting.”

“I’m running errands for a man who is actively having a breakdown. I just need the file, Damien. Email it and come down.” I sounded pleading, which infuriated me.

“I don’t keep digital copies of that material. And you’re standing here. That suggests you’re the transaction.” He took another step, dangerously close.

“I am here because I was ordered,” I shot back, lifting my chin. “I swore an oath to your brother. I don’t belong to you.”

His smirk was annoying as always “That oath is a joke. I broke a night before you took it. You think that cheap gold band changes the truth?”

He was standing right in front of me. I could feel the heat radiating off him. I tried to back away, but the heavy desk was at my hips.

“It changes everything,” I insisted.

He reached out, grabbing my wrist hard. The edge of the wedding band dug into my skin, a painful, ironic reminder. He pulled me forward until I stumbled and caught myself against his chest.

“You’re wearing his band,” he growled, leaning down. “But you answer to me.”

I tried to whisper a denial, but his mouth crushed mine before I could make a sound.

It was fierce, punishing. Not sweet, not romantic—just raw, demanding as he took and took. He kissed me like he was reclaiming lost property, his tongue invading, challenging me. My hand pushed against him first then involuntarily clutched the back of his sweater. I made a desperate noise that was swallowed. I was drowning in the sheer, destructive wrongness of the kiss, yet I couldn't stop the greedy response that surged through me.

Suddenly, I heard it—the distinct, high-pitched ding of the elevator door opening down the hall. Someone was coming.

I tore myself free, violently, stumbling back two steps. I was gasping, my lips stinging, the regret immediate.

I told myself I wasn’t going to do this again.

Damien stood still, his chest heaving. His eyes were dark, victorious, but hard.

“The file,” I choked out, desperately looking around.

He pointed to a thin manila folder tucked into the blotter on his desk. He hadn't even had the real file on him. It had all been a trap.

“Take it,” he said. “Tell him I’ll be down to brief him when I’m finished dealing with what truly matters.”

I snatched the folder, threw open the door, and bolted into the corridor, leaving the echo of his possessive, damning words behind.

My lungs burned all the way back to Mr Sterling’s office. I didn't run, but my steps were too fast, too loud, driven by the raw panic of the near miss and the shameful taste of Damien still on my mouth. I used the back of my hand to swipe frantically at my lips as I rounded the corner. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs.

Mr. Sterling looked up the second I appeared in the doorway. He was standing, rigid and impatient, by the heavy mahogany desk. He didn’t notice the slight disarray of my hair or the faint sheen of sweat on my neck. He only saw the time I’d wasted.

“Well? Where is he?” he demanded, his voice tight with exhaustion and irritation.

I held out the thin manila folder, my hand shaking slightly. I focused on the leather blotter, avoiding his gaze.

“Here are the revised projections for Thorne, sir,” I said, my voice thankfully steady. I placed the file on the desk.

He grabbed it immediately, snapping the folder open. He glanced down at the figures, his jaw visibly relaxing as he processed them. “Thank God. What did he say? Get him down here. I need him to walk me through the liquidity model.”

I swallowed, the taste of Damien—whiskey and dangerous cologne suddenly back. The air in the room was suffocating. I knew the next line was a dangerous lie, one that invited a direct, volatile confrontation between father and son.

“He sent a message, sir,” I relayed, my eyes meeting his briefly before dropping to the desk. “He said he would be down to brief you when he’s finished dealing with what truly matters.”

The silence that followed was...expected.

Mr. Sterling didn’t move. His hand, resting on the Thorne file, clenched slowly into a fist, crushing the corner of the confidential document. His face went from stressed exhaustion to absolute fury.

“He said what?” he asked, the words barely a whisper. They vibrated with more anger than any shout.

“‘He will come when he has finished dealing with what truly matters,’” I repeated, keeping my voice neutral, emotionless. I was nothing but the messenger, carrying the bomb.

He stared at me for another long, painful moment. He wasn't looking at Isabel, the person; he was looking at the messenger, the physical embodiment of his eldest son’s constant, humiliating defiance.

Then, with a sound of pure disgust, he shoved the chair back and strode away from the desk. He stopped by the liquor cabinet, poured a generous slug of amber liquid into a tumbler, and downed it in a single gulp.

“He thinks this is some kind of game,” Mr. Sterling bit out, turning back to face me, the glass held tight in his hand. “He thinks he can use a three-billion-dollar acquisition to make some juvenile statement about what matters?.’”

He looked at me, assessing.

“Isabel,” he said, the change in tone making me stiffen. “Does Damien still believe he has the freedom to walk away from his obligations? Did he give any indication that he is still fighting the company?”

I looked away.

I had just come from Damien’s study, where his rebellion had been aimed directly at me, at this marriage, at this entire...arrangement.

“I was only there long enough to receive the file, sir,” I said, meeting his gaze this time. “He appeared stressed, focused entirely on his work. But he made it clear he would only answer to you directly.”

It was the perfect lie. 

Mr. Sterling looked satisfied with the answer. He took another deep breath, leveling his temper. “Very well. You handled this well. Go to bed, Isabel.”

I didn’t need a second to process it.

“Good night, sir.”

I turned and walked out of his study, maintaining a calm, even pace until I was completely around the corner. Only then did I let myself lean against the cool wall, closing my eyes.

I had lied for Damien, all to protect myself and perhaps, subconsciously, to protect him.

I am Adrian's wife, bound to Damien by an unholy act of this forbidden pull. And now, I was his liar.