Isabella POV
The view from our private jet's windows transformed from Manhattan's familiar skyline to the Atlantic's endless expanse as we flew toward London and Cross-Sterling Industries' first major international expansion. I sat across from Damien in the aircraft's luxurious cabin, reviewing business proposals that would establish our European headquarters while trying to ignore how devastatingly attractive he looked in his charcoal traveling suit.
"Final numbers on the Pemberton Manufacturing contract?" he asked, consulting his tablet while I admired the way afternoon sunlight emphasized his sharp cheekbones.
"Forty-seven million over three years, with options for expansion into German and French markets," I replied, forcing my attention back to work despite the intimate setting of our private cabin. "Lord Pemberton's introduction could open doors throughout European business networks."
"And the office space in Canary Wharf?"
