Isabella POV
The ballroom at Claridge's Hotel felt like stepping into a Jane Austen novel redesigned for modern international finance, all crystal chandeliers and aristocratic elegance hosting London's most influential business leaders. I stood beside Damien in a midnight blue gown, accepting introductions to British society while trying to ignore the way his hand kept finding excuses to touch my back, my arm, my waist with possessive familiarity.
"Lady Catherine Whitmore, may I present Isabella and Damien Cross from Cross-Sterling Industries," Lord Pemberton said with obvious satisfaction. "They've just established their European headquarters here in Canary Wharf."
"How marvelous," Lady Catherine replied. "I understand you're expanding the Morrison Foundation's charitable activities into British institutions?"
