Snowflakes gently fell from the darkened sky as Isabella arrived at the luxurious hotel. The gloomy weather contrasted sharply with the frenzy of excited paparazzi swarming at the entrance. Determined, Isabella made her way towards the hotel door and knocked with purpose.
After a moment, a disheveled woman in her early twenties opened the door, her eyes bloodshot from apparent distress.
Not recognizing Isabella , she sniffed and asked in a soft voice, "Did Mr. Mathew hire you to manage the PR crisis?" Isabella nodded subtly, brushing past the woman without uttering a word.
As she entered the room, she was greeted by the sight of Mathew emerging from the bathroom, a bath towel loosely hanging around his waist. Water droplets cascaded from his hair, tracing a path down his collarbones and lower abdomen before disappearing into the folds of the towel.
It was important to note that Mathew had never actually been involved with the woman, his reputation as a playboy carefully crafted to protect his true intentions.
Catching sight of Isabella, he greeted her with a faint smile, seemingly unembarrassed by the fact that his wife had caught him in an adulterous act. "Why are you here?" he inquired.
Isabella raised her head, meeting his playful gaze, and responded calmly, "This case is too complicated. There are numerous paparazzi downstairs, and no one else wants to handle it."
Their conversation exuded a business-like tone, yet there was an underlying harmony between them that only they understood. Unbeknownst to the world, they were newlyweds, having been married for a mere three months.
Mathew strolled over to a rattan chair, draped a bathrobe around himself, and nonchalantly took a seat. The loosely worn bathrobe accentuated his collarbones, revealing just enough to captivate the onlooker.
He raised his head, casting a half-smile at Isabella , lit a cigarette with casual flair, and remarked, "I want someone else to handle this case."
Isabella remained composed, her gaze shifting towards the young woman standing beside her. She recognized her as a rising star at Ace Media, who had recently gained notoriety due to a love affair. Moreover, the wife of a well-known businessman had publicly criticized her on social media just two days prior.
Isabella hadn't expected Mathew to be interested in such a woman. As the young girl nervously met Isabella 's scrutinizing gaze, she attempted to maintain her composure and spoke in a tender voice, "There are too many paparazzi downstairs. I can tell them I am Mr. Mathew's girlfriend. Once things calm down, we can clarify the situation..." Her intentions of using her affair with Mathew as a publicity stunt were all too clear.
Before she could finish her sentence, Isabella intervened, her voice cold and cutting. "I have already informed your agent about the situation," she declared. "I believe they have arrived. You can go downstairs now."
The young girl stood there, stunned by Isabella 's unexpected response. "You want me to go downstairs now?" she queried, baffled. Isabella nodded, her expression unwavering.
"Yes," she affirmed. With that, Isabella walked up to Mathew, reached for the cigarette between his slender fingers, and extinguished it. She spoke firmly, "Mr. Mathew, please proceed to the room next door immediately. Mr. Benjamin and the others are waiting for you to commence the meeting."
Mathew gazed up at her with a mischievous smile, his eyes filled with playful delight. "Have you sorted everything out?" he inquired. Isabella's face remained impassive as she replied, "You have no time to waste. In five minutes, the hotel security will 'accidentally' allow the paparazzi to come up."
For a few seconds, Mathew and Isabella locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. He rose from his seat, opened the door, and walked towards the adjacent room, leaving the young girl behind in a state of astonishment. Mathew was a libertine by nature.
Once Mathew had departed, Isabella turned her attention back to the young girl, her tone still icy. "Why are you still here?" she demanded. The girl felt overwhelmed by Isabella 's commanding aura and swallowed nervously before responding, "I can't go downstairs now.
There are too many paparazzi waiting. What if they photograph me? My career has just begun, and I..." Isabella looked at her disdainfully and interrupted her with a frigid voice. "You will be shooting a TV commercial for lipstick nearby. I have informed your agent, who will pick you up and take you there, just go out there and do your job"
The girl instantly grasped Isabella's intentions. Realizing she would gain no benefits today, though angry she nodded hastily and hurriedly left.
With everything settled, Isabella was about to depart when her phone suddenly rang. Frowning, she glanced at the caller ID and answered the call.
"Grandpa, what's up?" On the other end of the line, Mathew's grandfather, a voice radiating with dignity, spoke, "Isabella, I want to see you and Mathew at the Haverhill mansion within half an hour." Isabella replied simply, "Okay."
Hanging up the phone, she made her way downstairs. Rather than leaving immediately after entering her car, Isabella sent a message to Mathew, informing him of his grandfather's request to return to the Haverhill mansion.
Mathew barely responded to her message, continuing his pattern of nonchalant brevity. Isabella, however, remained unfazed, she had gotten used to her attitudes by now.
After closing the chat box, she glanced at the internet trending topics of the day, ensuring there was no news about Mathew's alleged affair, after a few checkings here and there, Satisfied, she redirected her focus.
Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when the passenger side door suddenly swung open, revealing a tall man who settled into the seat beside her.
Mathew had donned a suit, leaving the coat unbuttoned and the collar of his shirt slightly open, heightening his untamed allure. Catching Isabella 's gaze, he spoke in a playful tone, "Why are you staring at me?"
His voice, rough and seductive, evoked memories of the night they had both been intoxicated and had sexual experience, it was a bittersweet night for Isabella and Mathew who were both drunk and got lost in each other's touch, pictures of that might came flooding back to her memory.
Mathew sat on the edge of the bed, his mind swirling with a mix of emotions and the intoxicating effects of alcohol. He had been lost in his thoughts when he heard a gentle knock on the bedroom door. Startled, he looked up to see Isabella standing there, her eyes glazed with the same hazy allure that consumed him.
Isabella stumbled into the room, her laughter echoing through the air. The dimly lit room flickered with candlelight, casting a warm, intimate glow on the walls. The atmosphere was charged with the electric energy of two souls yearning for connection.
Their eyes met, and in that instant, they understood the unspoken desire that flowed between them. The allure of the night and their shared vulnerability seemed to create an irresistible pull. Mathew's heart raced as Isabella moved closer, her movements fueled by liquid courage.
Without uttering a word, they closed the distance between them, their bodies drawn together as if by an invisible force. Their touch was gentle, tentative at first, but soon ignited into a passionate dance of longing. The room became a sanctuary for their desires, a place where the boundaries of reality and inhibition dissolved.
As their bodies intertwined, their connection deepened, fueled by the primal need for human connection and the intoxicating elixir of alcohol. Each touch, each kiss, was an expression of the unspoken words that their inebriated minds struggled to articulate.
The night unfolded in a whirlwind of emotions, their bodies moving in harmony as they explored the depths of their desires. Time became irrelevant, lost in the haze of their passion. Their hearts beat as one, momentarily escaping the complexities of their sober lives.
In the aftermath of their intimate encounter, Mathew and Isabella lay side by side, their breaths gradually slowing, their bodies enveloped in a peaceful serenity. The room, once filled with fiery passion, now held a tender stillness.
As the morning light peeked through the curtains, they awakened from their alcohol-induced slumber. Reality set in, and the weight of their actions became apparent. Uncertainty clouded their minds, mingling with the remnants of their shared night.
Mathew and Isabella exchanged a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of the depths they had reached together. The night would forever be etched in their memories, a bittersweet reminder of the complexities of human connection, blurred lines, and the power of vulnerability.
Isabella, are you still here?? Mathew asked, his coaxing tone mirroring the present and jerking Isabella back from her reverie.
The memory of that night caused Isabella's brows to furrow. Collecting herself, she responded lightly, "If you have no urgent matters, we should head back to the Haverhill mansion now."
Mathew reclined in his seat, tapping his long fingers against the car window as he replied, "Alright." Isabella started the car and, as she drove, her phone vibrated, situated near the dashboard.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mathew casually glanced over and spotted a message from Isabella 's best friend, Rose, displayed on the screen. It read, "Mathew is always fooling around with other women.
Can he satisfy you at home? Shall I hire a gigolo for you?" Mathew's eyebrows arched in surprise, and simultaneously, Isabella also glanced down at her phone. Both remained composed.
Isabella maintained her grip on the steering wheel with one hand, using the other to turn the phone over, while silence dominated the atmosphere.
Half an hour later, they arrived at the Haverhill mansion of Haverhill. Exiting the car together, Isabella walked confidently towards the gates, her heels clicking on the ground.
Amidst the sound, she heard Mathew's uninhibited laughter. "Isabella , if you desire to sleep with me, just say so," he teased.
