ISLA’S POV
The car came to a smooth stop in front of an impressive building that looked like it belonged in a magazine for the wealthy elite. Oliver stepped out first, buttoning his suit jacket, and then turned to offer me his hand.
“Hold my hand,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I hesitated for a moment but slid my hand into his. His grip was firm, warm, and steady as we walked toward the entrance together.
The moment we stepped out, I felt the weight of countless eyes on us. People turned to stare, some whispering behind their hands, others openly gawking. It made me uneasy.
“Why is everyone staring?” I asked, keeping my voice low as I leaned closer to him.
Oliver smirked, clearly unfazed. “Because I’m Oliver Blackwood, and you’re my wife. Of course, they’re staring
