Playing Fire with My Ice-King BOSS: V-Card for One Night, Ring Forever - Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Isabelle's POV
"Stay here and rest during lunch. No need to make the trip back downstairs," Jeremiah said with such casual confidence that it sent my anxiety spiraling.
"I'll just crash at my desk for a bit. I don't want to mess up your routine—I'm terrible at sleeping in new places," I declined, my voice coming out more strained than I intended.
Jeremiah didn't respond, just maintained that infuriatingly blank expression.
My nervousness was completely justified. We'd literally just gotten married yesterday, and I was terrified of people finding out. If I started taking naps in his office, someone would eventually put two and two together.
The lunch spread looked like it belonged in a five-star restaurant, clearly prepared with love rather than ordered from some corporate catering service.
"Did your housekeeper make this?" I asked, desperately trying to fill the suffocating silence.
"No," Jeremiah paused, and I saw something flicker across his face. "My mom did."
I nearly choked on my sandwich.
"My aunt told my parents about your hospital visit for the pregnancy test." His tone was so measured and calm that I couldn't read him at all, which made my panic worse.
My stomach dropped to the floor, but seeing how completely composed he was made me feel cold inside.
"So they know we got married..."
"They know everything. I'll take you to meet them once we get through this crazy period at work."
"Oh."
The reality hit me like a brick wall—he had an entire family who now knew about me. Unlike my situation, where it was just me against the world.
After we finished eating, Jeremiah started cleaning up with military precision, again not letting me lift a finger.
"I should get back," I said, my voice tight with the need to escape this suffocating intimacy.
Being alone with him felt like drowning in slow motion. My heart kept doing these weird palpitations, and I could feel heat crawling up my neck.
"Hold on." Jeremiah walked to his desk, and I reluctantly followed.
"Give me your phone." He sat down and extended his hand with casual authority.
"What for?"
I hesitated, clutching my phone like a lifeline, but ultimately handed it over.
He started navigating through my apps with practiced ease.
"Linked my black card to your PayPal. Buy whatever you want, whenever you want it."
The moment he said that, I watched his expression change as he saw my contact name for him: Vampire Boss.
A small smile played at his lips as he changed it to "My Hubby," updating both the contact name and phone number entry.
I couldn't bring myself to watch, my palms slick with nervous sweat.
"I'm not very good at... this whole relationship thing. If I fuck something up, just tell me. I can learn."
After finishing his digital housekeeping, he handed my phone back.
"Okay." I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper.
Yeah, he definitely wasn't experienced with women. That much was painfully obvious.
Finally escaping his office felt like surfacing from underwater—I could breathe again.
After work, I drove to the high-end shopping district to find some decent winter gear for Paris.
The selection was pretty limited since it wasn't peak winter season yet, so I had to focus on practical warmth over style.
I definitely didn't expect to run into someone from my past life.
"Belly!" A familiar voice called out.
"Ms. Scott!"
Rachel Scott was a literature professor at Columbia and one of my mother's oldest friends. She'd been like a second mother to me growing up—had even taught me drawing during my awkward teenage years.
She was dressed in that effortlessly elegant way that only came from years of good breeding, her posture and mannerisms screaming old money.
"Shopping for winter clothes too?" we said in unison, then laughed.
I knew she lived somewhere in Manhattan but hadn't expected to cross paths here.
"Getting some decent clothes for my son. That workaholic has a business trip tomorrow and owns nothing but suits and gym clothes."
Rachel looked me up and down with obvious approval. "You've grown into such a stunning young woman!"
The compliment made me blush as I grabbed her arm enthusiastically.
"Perfect timing! I desperately need someone with actual taste to help me shop. Want to make this a joint mission?"
"Absolutely! And you can help me figure out what passes for stylish among your generation. I'm completely lost when it comes to what twenty-somethings wear."
We spent the next three hours methodically working through multiple stores, turning shopping into an art form.
"Have you eaten yet? Want to come back to my place for dinner?" Rachel asked as we collapsed into plush chairs at a trendy café, surrounded by our shopping conquests and sipping lattes.
"I should head home, Ms. Scott. I still need to pack and get organized for this trip."
Suddenly I remembered Jeremiah mentioning dinner together tonight. It was already past 8 PM—I had no idea if he was waiting for me or had given up and eaten alone.
The thought of him sitting there waiting made my stomach twist with guilt.
"Of course, darling. I have some grading to catch up on anyway. Let's plan a proper dinner soon!"
"Definitely." I hugged her tightly, breathing in her familiar lavender perfume.
We exchanged quick goodbyes.
Sitting in my car, I checked my phone with growing dread and saw multiple missed calls and texts from "My Hubby."
When are you coming home?
Panic shot through me as I immediately called him back.
"I'm so sorry, I ran into a family friend at the mall and completely lost track of time."
"It's fine. When will you be back?" His voice was calm, but I could hear something underneath it.
"Leaving right now. Ten minutes, tops."
"I'll wait."
"Okay."
Hanging up, I felt this weird flutter in my chest. Having someone actually waiting for me at home was foreign but... nice? There was something about being expected somewhere that I'd never experienced before.
My face was burning for reasons I didn't want to analyze.
I started the car and sped toward what I was slowly starting to think of as home.
Passing a street vendor on the way, I made an impulsive decision and pulled over to buy a bouquet of bright yellow tulips.
Why tulips? Why flowers at all? My brain apparently wasn't functioning properly.
Parking in the garage, I got out clutching the flowers like some kind of peace offering, my heart hammering.
"You're home." Jeremiah's voice made me jump out of my skin.
I instinctively stepped backward, completely startled by his presence.
The silence stretched awkwardly between us as I tried to compose myself, closing the car door and walking toward him on unsteady legs.
"What are you doing down here?"
"Waiting for you."
His dark eyes immediately focused on the tulips in my arms, and I felt exposed under his scrutiny.
My heart was doing these weird acrobatics, and I had no idea how to handle this moment.
"These are... for you," I stammered, my entire face burning as I held out the flowers, completely unsure if he'd even want them.
Jeremiah studied me for a long moment, then looked at the tulips, before slowly reaching out to accept them. When his warm fingers brushed against mine during the transfer, it felt like touching a live wire.
"Thank you." There was something soft in his expression that I'd never seen before—genuine surprise mixed with what looked like pleasure.
I immediately regretted my flower choice, my brain screaming at me for making this weird gesture. I quickly pulled my hands back.
Just as the awkwardness was becoming unbearable, Jeremiah stepped closer and did something that completely short-circuited my brain.
He wrapped his arms around me.
One arm circled my waist while still holding the flowers, the other pulled me against his chest.
I went completely rigid with shock, my hands frozen in mid-air as his intoxicating sandalwood scent surrounded me like a drug.
He was so warm. Even through his dress shirt, I could feel the solid heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing.
I was afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to do anything that might break whatever this moment was.
Should I hug him back? Was that what normal married couples did?
Sweat was beading on my forehead from pure nervousness.
The embrace was careful, respectful—he wasn't pressing too close—but it was enough to send my emotions into complete fucking chaos.
After what felt like an eternity of internal debate, I finally, tentatively, raised my hands to rest against his broad back.
We held each other like that for a long moment before slowly, reluctantly separating.
I couldn't figure out where to look, my eyes darting everywhere except his face, while Jeremiah watched me with that calm, steady gaze that made me feel transparent.
"Did you eat?" I suddenly remembered, guilt crashing over me.
"No. I waited for you."
The simple statement hit me harder than it should have.
"God, I'm sorry. I completely forgot..."
I had forgotten. Forgotten that I wasn't just responsible for myself anymore. Forgotten that someone was actually counting on me to come home.
"It's okay. We'll both get used to this."
"Yeah."
After our stilted conversation, I walked to my trunk to grab the shopping bags, my hands still shaking slightly.
Jeremiah quietly handed me back the tulips and took all the heavy bags from me without a word, heading toward the house.
The gesture was so casually protective that it made my chest ache in a way I wasn't ready to examine.