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Chapter 624
Chapter 624:
Isolde uncrossed her arms, turned her back on them both without another word, and pushed through the revolving glass doors.
A black Uber SUV had just pulled to the curb. She walked toward it.
Grayson did not stay back. He moved with sudden, jerky momentum, pushing through the doors after her. Just as Isolde reached for the door handle, he stepped directly into her personal space—his posture slumped, his expression raw with naked desperation. He reached out as though to touch her arm, then pulled back, his fingers twitching.
“Isolde, please,” he rasped, his voice cracking. “Just five minutes. I will drive you to the office myself. I promise I will not delay you. But we have to talk about the NDA statement—forty-eight hours is impossible with the board. I am trying to find a middle ground before Beatrice executes me. Please. Just listen to me for the duration of the drive p>
Isolde looked at the manic, obsessive light in his eyes. She saw the way his chest was heaving, his pride completely shattered. Fighting him on the sidewalk would only create a public spectacle that would feed the gossip columns for weeks.
She turned and walked to the Maybach. She opened the rear passenger door, slid into the luxurious leather seat, and pulled the door shut behind her.
Grayson did not spare a single glance for Belle, who still stood motionless in the lobby like a discarded prop. He walked around to the driver’s side, got in, and slammed his door. The Maybach pulled away from the curb.
Belle was left standing alone behind the glass, her face twisted into a mask of pure, murderous rage.
T𝘩e 𝗆𝘰𝗌t 𝗉o𝘱𝗎l𝖺𝗿 ո𝗼vе𝗹𝘴 𝗼n
The Maybach merged aggressively into the heavy morning traffic on the West Side Highway.
The interior of the luxury vehicle was dead silent, the air pressure heavy enough to press down on Isolde’s chest. Grayson reached toward the center console and pressed a silver button. A thick, soundproof glass partition glided upward, sealing the front and rear cabins completely from the outside world.
It was just the two of them now, locked in a rolling vault.
Isolde leaned back against the headrest and turned her face toward the tinted window, watching the grey waters of the Hudson River slide past. She refused to look at him in the rearview mirror.
Grayson gripped the leather steering wheel, his knuckles bone white, his eyes repeatedly drawn to her cold, indifferent profile.