One-night stand with cheating fiancé's uncle

Isla had dealt with this kind of teasing more times than she could count. Normally, she brushed it off without a second thought. But things were different now. She and Damari had picked up their marriage license just last night. This felt like a slap in his face, right under his own nose. She kept her gaze lowered and answered coolly, "Sorry, Mr. Burns. I'm not interested in switching jobs."

"How much is your boss paying you? I'll triple it," Ambrose said, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

Isla met his eyes directly, her tone steady. "Mr. Burns, some things aren't for sale." She gently eased his hand off her shoulder. "Like loyalty."

Ambrose laughed at how dead serious she looked. "Isla, I gotta ask..." he dropped his voice, low and dirty, "Do you walk around looking that serious in the bedroom, too? Can you even let loose?"

Isla's ears burned bright red, and she glared daggers at the shameless man.

"Doesn't look like it. Wanna have your big brother show you how it's done?" Ambrose kept piling on the teasing.

A cold voice cut in sharp, "Show her what? Maybe you should show me too."

Isla stumbled back so fast, instinctively pressing herself to Damari's side. Damari was always strict at work, but he was respectful, never cracked crude jokes like this. Having him as her boss felt like having a solid wall to hide behind.

Ambrose just shrugged, totally unphased. "Just messing around."

Damari set down his pen, closed his folder, and pressed the intercom button, his voice even. "Send all the assistants in."

Madison led the other assistants in a minute later. Isla had no clue what Damari planned to do, but that quiet commanding energy of his had her stomach twisting in knots.

Ambrose was still clueless as to what was coming. "Got a meeting going on? Should I head out?"

Damari nodded at Madison, who stepped back and held the door open. The assistants clustered just inside, shifting awkwardly, none of them knowing what to expect.

Damari spoke in that same calm, even tone that sent a chill down Isla's spine. "Mr. Burns here thinks my assistants aren't up to par, and he's graciously offered to share his expertise with all of you. You should all take notes."

The assistants were confused, but when the CEO says jump, you don't ask how high. They nodded earnestly in unison. "Please, Mr. Burns. Enlighten us."

Ambrose's smile dropped right off his face. "Damari, c'mon, I was just joking."

Damari leaned back in his leather chair, hands clasped under his chin, and pinned Ambrose with that cold, sharp leader's glare. "Now that everyone's here, go ahead. Put on a show. Start yelling—you seemed so amused by this a minute ago."

The guy who'd spent all this time teasing Isla just got turned into the office clown. Even Ambrose could tell Damari wasn't playing around this time. He swallowed his pride, jaw tight. "You're really gonna do this over a junior assistant?"

Damari scoffed, dark and dangerous. "Recruiting my people right to my face? You really think I'm blind?"

Ambrose met that blazing glare, shocked how seriously Damari was taking this today. He huffed, reluctant as hell, and let out a weak, half-hearted yell: "Ah!"

Damari turned to the room of assistants. "What did you all think of that?"

Everyone got it now—Damari was defending Isla. But Ambrose was old money, powerful, none of them dared say what they really thought. Only Madison spoke up, blunt as ever: "Lacked emotion."

Damari nodded once. "Try again."

"C'mon Damari, this is going way too far, right?" Ambrose protested.

"This is too far?" Damari chuckled darkly, low and menacing. "If you think the audience is too small, I can round up the whole company to watch..."

"Alright, alright! I'm yelling!" Ambrose cut him off fast.

Finally Damari waved the other assistants out, then flicked his hand at Ambrose to dismiss him. "Go to the main conference room and keep shouting until you hit a thousand times. Then you can leave."

"I'm sorry, Damari, I messed up, okay?"

"Make it two thousand."

Ambrose had nothing to say to that.

Isla had run into Ambrose a handful of times before. He was a carefree playboy who never filtered a damn thing he said. This was the first time anyone had ever put him in his place like this, all because of her.

After everyone cleared out, Isla stood off to the side, worry written all over her face. Damari lifted his head and looked right at her. "Spit it out. What's on your mind?"

Isla furrowed her brow just a little. "Mr. Burns comes from one of the most powerful families in the city. It's not worth throwing away a good relationship over me."

Damari built this company from nothing, clawed his way up from the bottom. Even though he'd become a billionaire faster than anyone saw coming, he didn't have the generations of backing those old-money clans did. Isla didn't come from money or influence either, and she knew better than anyone how hard he'd fought to get where he was. She didn't want to ruin everything he'd built over her.

She dropped her gaze to the floor. "I've heard garbage like that my whole life. It doesn't get to me. I just... I don't want to be a burden..."

Before she could even finish her sentence, a large hand wrapped around her wrist and hauled her right down onto Damari's lap.

Back in high school, Isla had dated Vicente before he moved abroad, and that was it—a long-distance thing that fizzled out. Even when they were together in person, he never did anything this bold with her.

One thought blazed through her dizzy mind: how could anyone's thighs be this firm? The man worked out regularly, his well-honed physique hidden under that sharp tailored suit, and it felt like a rock against her soft curves.

Damari's perfect dark eyes held her startled reflection, his voice low and steady. "Isla, I don't know what kind of life you had before me, or how much you've had to carry. But starting now? You're mine. No one is going to disrespect you, not while I'm here."

Isla's eyes went wide. When she was dating Vicente, she'd always hidden how vulnerable she was, put on a brave face and acted like she didn't need anyone. When she joined Damari's company, her messy, poor background had come out anyway.

She'd spent her whole life learning that the world kisses up to the powerful and kicks the weak when they're down. Damari's words hit her like a stone dropped into a still pond, sending warm ripples spreading through her chest.

"Marrying you is never a burden. As for the Burns family..." he paused, holding her gaze, unblinking. "They're nothing."

He said it so casually, like one of the most prominent families in the country was just a fly to swat away. Even though their marriage started as a deal of convenience, this quiet, unshakable protection warmed her to her core. She mumbled a shy, "Thank you."

Damari stared at the girl in his arms, her pale skin flushed pink that crept all the way up to her ears and down her neck, like someone had dusted her with rouge. She was always so polite, so distant around him. This soft, obedient version of Isla was something he'd never gotten to see before.

He leaned closer, the warm, clean scent of his cologne wrapping around Isla. He asked, curious, "Why do you blush so easily?"

He kept his face cool, but his question was totally sincere. He'd dated more than his fair share of women, so he figured a girl his age would be pretty experienced—he had no idea Isla was as innocent as they came.

Flustered, Isla rushed to explain. "I've never done this before."

"What do you mean by that?" The second the question left his mouth, the air between them went thick with tension, crackling like static.

Her tight pencil skirt inched up her thighs as she sat, her sheer pantyhose hugging her long legs that dangled freely, brushing against his trousers every so often.

When she shifted nervously, she accidentally grazed his hard calf with her knee.

Isla bit her soft lip, her voice barely a whisper. "I've never sat on a guy's lap before. It's... new. I don't really know what to do."

Right after the words left her mouth, Damari's grip on her hand tightened just a little.

She winced, breathing out soft, "Mr. Evans... You're hurting me..."