Isabel stepped out of her sleek black car, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she made her way toward Damian's company entrance.
She wore a short, fitted skirt that hugged her curves and a silk blouse that left little to the imagination — the kind of outfit that demanded attention. Her perfume lingered in the air, soft and intoxicating.
Just as she reached the glass doors, her phone began to ring.
She glanced at the screen and frowned when she saw the name flashing — Alex. With an irritated sigh, she answered.
"What is it?" she snapped, her tone sharp.
On the other end, Alex's voice came out hesitant. "I… talked to Elena. She doesn't want to meet me."
Isabel's steps slowed for a second, her jaw tightening.
"Then look for a way to convince her," she said coldly. "I don't care how you do it, Alex — just make her come to you."
