The next morning, sunlight spilled through the hotel curtains in soft, golden streaks.
Izzy groaned quietly and sat up in bed, her head still heavy from too little sleep. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning …thinking about him.
Dominic.
His voice, his anger, the sharp way he’d said my assistant in front of everyone.
She’d never seen him that furious before... not even during his worst boardroom moods.
She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Get a grip, Izzy,” she whispered to herself. “Stop thinking about a man who doesn't give a f**k about you... Only your p***y does he cares for.
She repeated it twice... hoping it might start to sound convincing.
By seven-thirty, she was up and dressed in a cream blouse tucked neatly into a navy skirt that brushed just above her knee
