Playing Fire with My Ice-King BOSS: V-Card for One Night, Ring Forever - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Isabelle's POV
The design department was absolutely buzzing when I walked in the next morning.
Every single person in the room was staring at me like I'd grown a second head. The whispers and pointed looks made it crystal clear that whatever drama was unfolding, I was at the center of it.
"Belly, we got hit last night," Taylor whispered urgently as I approached my desk. "Someone broke into Stephen's office and dumped all the year-end competition portfolios on your desk."
My stomach dropped. I immediately understood what was happening.
The annual design competition was huge—career-defining huge. Everyone had submitted their final portfolios to Stephen for safekeeping. If those designs got leaked or stolen, months of work would be down the drain. People would have to start from scratch, giving competitors extra time to outmaneuver them.
I didn't say a word, just swept my eyes across the room.
My icy stare seemed to catch everyone off guard. They probably expected me to break down or start making excuses, not stand there looking completely unbothered.
The entire department went from a buzzing hive to dead silence.
I let out a bitter laugh, still clutching my bag and iPad, and looked down at the stack of portfolios sitting on my desk like evidence at a crime scene.
Using just my thumb and forefinger, I picked up the documents like they were radioactive waste, arched an eyebrow, and slowly scanned the room again.
"Looks like your portfolios decided to take a little vacation on my desk." I dropped them with obvious disgust.
Everyone knew damn well those sketches were there—they'd just been waiting for me to show up so they could stage their little kangaroo court.
"Isabelle! If you wanted to win so badly, you didn't have to resort to this!"
"Now I know why you were working so late last night! You were stealing our ideas!"
"These portfolios are confidential! How is any of this fair now that you've seen everyone's work?"
The accusations came flying from every direction, each one making my blood pressure spike higher.
But I stayed ice-cold calm.
"If I wanted to steal your precious ideas, I would've taken photos and studied them at home in peace. Why the hell would I leave the actual portfolios sitting on my desk like a fucking welcome mat?
I could've thrown them in the dumpster and watched you all panic about your missing work.
And if I was really trying to pull some covert operation, why would I post on Instagram about working late? Wouldn't I want to fly under the radar?
What kind of amateur-hour criminal leaves evidence sitting in plain sight?"
That shut most of them up, but I could see the rage simmering in their eyes.
The senior designers especially looked like they wanted to see me burned at the stake.
I was beyond done with this bullshit. I grabbed all the portfolios and dumped them on the communal printer with zero ceremony.
Normally I kept my mouth shut and my head down—I hadn't been here long enough to make enemies. But something had snapped in me recently. I was completely out of patience for being anyone's scapegoat.
"What the hell is going on out here?" Stephen's voice cut through the tension as he walked in. Behind him were Jeremiah and Gordon.
The room went dead silent the second everyone saw the CEO making an unscheduled appearance.
I glanced at Stephen, then my eyes accidentally met Jeremiah's over his shoulder. I quickly looked away, my heart doing weird acrobatics.
"Oh, nothing too serious. Just some concerns about Isabelle apparently borrowing ideas from the competition portfolios last night," someone volunteered, trying to sound diplomatic.
"I didn't touch those portfolios," I said, my voice steady but sharp.
I could feel Jeremiah's eyes boring into me, and his intense stare was making me more nervous than I wanted to admit.
"Look, accusations need proof. Yeah, I was here late last night, but that doesn't automatically make me a thief.
And honestly? I don't think anyone's work here is worth stealing. None of these designs would affect my chances of taking first place anyway."
The room erupted again—people calling me arrogant, delusional, completely out of line.
I watched Jeremiah take in the whole circus, and I swear I saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile.
"We can pull the security footage," Stephen suggested.
"Security said the cameras were down for maintenance last night," Taylor answered quickly, her voice shaky. "They only caught footage of Isabelle working at her desk, but nothing showing her near the portfolios."
Taylor had immediately checked the cameras when this whole mess started, trying to clear my name like the loyal friend she was.
The whole situation was going absolutely nowhere. While everyone kept arguing in circles, I stayed quiet, trying to piece together how the hell those portfolios had ended up on my desk.
"Isabelle."
One calm, authoritative voice cut through all the noise, and everyone immediately shut the fuck up.
It was Jeremiah. "Come with me."
His tone was completely neutral—that same cold, professional voice that probably terrified board members.
He turned and headed for the elevator without waiting for an answer.
The second he was gone, the whispers exploded again. Everyone was convinced I was about to get my ass fired.
But I had absolutely nothing to hide. I straightened my shoulders and followed him out, ignoring the vultures circling behind me.
In the elevator, his sandalwood cologne wrapped around me, somehow managing to calm my frayed nerves despite everything.
When we reached his office, Gordon stepped out and quietly closed the door.
"Sit. Let's have breakfast." He gestured toward his coffee table, which was set up with bagels, cream cheese, fresh fruit, and what looked like really good coffee.
"I'm sorry, what?" I was completely thrown.
This was not the conversation I'd been expecting.
I was about to ask what the hell was happening when my traitorous stomach growled loudly, completely undermining any dignity I had left.
He sat down, unwrapped a bagel, and gestured to the chair across from him while I stood there looking like a deer in headlights.
I had no clue why the entire script had just flipped, but the coffee smelled incredible and I was starving, so I sat down across from him.
Today I'd gone casual—soft joggers, an oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder, and my hair in a messy bun that somehow looked effortlessly put-together.
I caught Jeremiah's eyes lingering on me a few times while we ate.
I was a notoriously slow eater, and instead of inhaling his food like he usually did, Jeremiah seemed to match my pace, taking his time.
"You good?" he asked when I finally put down my coffee.
"Yeah, thanks."
I grabbed a napkin and wiped my hands. Between all the work stress and Thanksgiving chaos, I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a proper breakfast.
"Get back to work," he said, starting to clear the table.
I jumped up to help, and my hand accidentally brushed his warm palm. I jerked back like I'd been burned, shoving my hands behind my back.
"I should get going."
"Mmm." He didn't even look up from cleaning.
I had no fucking idea why he'd called me up here. I'd been bracing myself for an interrogation about the portfolios, but he hadn't asked a single question about any of it.
I made it to the door before stopping and turning around. "Jeremiah?"
"Yeah." He tossed the trash and dusted off his hands, those piercing eyes meeting mine.
"About us... don't tell anyone. Please."
"Which part?"
Which part? Was he serious right now?
"All of it. Everything."
"Done." He was already walking back to his desk, dismissing me.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, still completely baffled by this man and whatever game he was playing.
Back at my desk, the office felt like a pressure cooker ready to explode.
"Want half my muffin? I'm too nervous to eat," Taylor offered, sliding a blueberry muffin toward me.
"I'm actually good. Just ate upstairs."
"Right, you're probably too stressed to keep anything down anyway."
A few minutes later, Gordon appeared and called Stephen upstairs.
The gossip mill went into overdrive, with people placing bets on whether I was about to get fired or sued.
"Did he tear you apart up there?" Taylor whispered.
"Not even close."
"Then what were you doing for like half an hour?"
"Just answering questions about this morning's drama."
The lie tasted bitter, but I couldn't exactly tell her I'd had breakfast with our CEO like we were old friends.
I buried myself in work, trying to ignore the paranoid feeling that everyone was still watching my every move.