Isabelle’s POV

I knew he would come.

I had barely stepped into my office when the air shifted, thick with something I recognized too well—his presence.

Damion.

I didn’t bother turning around as the door closed behind him, the soft click sending a sharp wave of irritation through me.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said flatly, placing my bag on my desk.

“I needed to see you,” he replied, his voice deep, rough.

Of course he did.

I finally turned, meeting his gaze. His suit was ...