Taming My Sugar Mommy-Chapter 29: Perfectly yours

The morning light slanted through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across Isabella's desk at Ashworth Tower. She barely glanced at the event proposals Sarah placed before her, signing each with uncharacteristic swiftness.

From his desk outside her office, Liam watched. Something was off—Isabella never approved event concepts without scrutinizing every detail. Her usual sharp attention to detail, the very foundation of Ashworth Luxury Events' reputation, seemed... dulled. Not gone, but distracted. He'd been catching these moments more often lately, little cracks in her usually flawless composure.

When she finally called him into her office, her voice carried its usual authority, but there was something else beneath it. Something unsettled.

"We have a meeting," she said, not looking up from her screen. "The Blackwood Hospitality Group. They're finally considering letting us handle their international luxury hotel events portfolio."

"The ones who've been loyal to their in-house team for a decade?" Liam leaned against her desk, closer than strictly necessary. "Interesting timing."

Now she did look up, her eyes meeting his. "We're going. Tonight."

"Alright." He studied her face. "What's the play?"

She outlined the strategy with her usual precision—how Ashworth could elevate their events beyond the standard luxury tier, bring in their network of exclusive vendors, create experiences that would set their hotels apart. But her words lacked their typical sharp edges. Her gaze kept drifting to the window, to the city sprawled beneath them. Liam listened, noting what she said—and what she didn't.

Hours later, their town car pulled up to the Blackwood Tower. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Isabella withdrew a compact mirror, checking her reflection. The gesture caught Liam's attention—it was so unlike her usual unshakeable confidence. As they stepped into the elevator, he leaned closer, his voice low.

"They don't stand a chance."

A smile played at the corners of her mouth, subtle but genuine. "No, they don't."

The Blackwood Group's penthouse was all crystal and old money. Isabella moved through the crowd like she owned it, every inch the powerhouse behind the most sought-after events company in the industry. But Liam saw the tells—the way her fingers tapped against her glass, how her responses came a beat too late.

He watched her navigate the room, speaking only when necessary, her usual commanding presence somehow muted. The business discussion flowed around them, talk of exclusive partnerships and global expansion, but her mind seemed elsewhere.

Later, as the formal meeting dissolved into networking, soft jazz filtered through the room. Isabella stood by the window, the city lights reflecting in her glass of untouched wine.

Liam approached slowly, deliberately entering her line of sight. She didn't turn, but he saw her shoulders tense slightly, acknowledging his presence.

"Dance with me."

Not a request, not quite a command. Something in between.

She turned then, one eyebrow raised. But she set down her glass and took his offered hand.

The music wrapped around them, slow and rich. His cologne enveloped her - subtle notes of cedar and something darker that made her pulse quicken. When his thumb traced a small circle at the small of her back, she felt the touch even through the fabric of her dress. The room seemed to fade, the clinking glasses and murmured conversations becoming distant echoes. There was just the music, his steady heartbeat under her palm, and the gentle pressure of his hand guiding her through the steps. Under his palm, he felt the tension in her back begin to ease. She exhaled softly, some of her rigid control melting as they moved together. He didn't push, didn't ask about the distraction in her eyes or the way she'd been off-balance all day. He just let her be, let her find her footing in the rhythm they created.

As the song drew to a close, she didn't immediately step away. Her hand stayed in his, her body still close enough that he could feel her warmth.

"Join me for dinner at my place ." Her voice was low, meant only for him. It wasn't a question—it was a decision she'd made somewhere between his hand taking hers and the last notes of the song fading away.

A knowing smile played across Liam's lips. "I've been waiting for you to ask." The words carried a weight that made her breath catch, just slightly.

Something flickered in her eyes—relief? anticipation?—before she stepped back, rebuilding her walls. But not all of them, he noticed. Not anymore.

"I'll have Marcus bring the car around," she said, already reaching for her phone.

Liam watched her walk away, her heels clicking against the marble floor, and smiled to himself.

******

Isabella stood before her mirror, her eyes trailing over the black silk that hugged her figure like a second skin. The fabric skimmed over her full curves, cinching at the waist before flowing over her hips in a way that was both effortless and deliberate. The neckline dipped just enough to tease, showing a whisper of skin, while the high slit on one side hinted at long, toned legs beneath. It wasn't just a dress—it was a statement, a quiet challenge.

This wasn't her usual armor - the sharp blazers and precisely tailored dresses that announced her presence before she even entered a room. Those clothes were weapons, carefully chosen to command attention and respect. This dress... this was something else entirely. Something that spoke of the woman beneath the CEO, the one who'd caught Liam watching her with that knowing look in his eyes when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

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She almost turned toward her closet, where a more conservative option waited—the safer choice. But tonight wasn't about playing it safe, was it?

The dress seems perfect when she first tries it on—subtle in its sensuality, the kind of garment that makes people look twice without knowing why. Now, though... Her fingers trace the neckline, adjusting it fractionally. Is it too much? Not enough?

'Damn it. She was Isabella Ashworth. She didn't do uncertainty, especially not over a dress.' And yet here she was, fussing with her hair like some teenager before prom. She'd let it fall in loose waves tonight instead of her usual sleek style, the dark strands framing her face in a way that softened her usual sharp edges.

A knock at her door broke through her thoughts.

"Enter."

Marie appeared, her reflection joining Isabella's in the mirror. "Mr. Campbell has arrived, my lady."

Isabella's heart skipped. "Already?"

"His driver just pulled into the garage."

Isabella exhaled slowly, her fingers still playing with the gold pendant at her throat. Before she could stop herself, she turned to Marie.

"Be honest with me. This dress..."

Marie's eyes widened slightly—Isabella Ashworth asking for fashion advice? But she recovered quickly, a small smile touching her lips.

"It's perfect, my lady. He won't be able to take his eyes off you."

Isabella's lips curved slightly. "That obvious, am I?"

"Only to someone who knows what to look for." Marie's smile grew knowing. "And I suspect Mr. Campbell been looking for quite some time."

Heat bloomed in Isabella's chest, but she kept her expression neutral. "That will be all, Marie."

Alone again, Isabella slipped on her heels and took one final look in the mirror. The dress hugged her curves without clinging, the hem hitting just above her knees. Perfect for a business dinner, if that's what this was. Perfect for something else entirely, if it wasn't.

She smiled at her reflection, feeling more like herself again.'Let Liam try and play it cool when he laid eyes on her tonight.'