Filed To Story: Watch Out! She's a Mastermind Heiress (Isabella Patton) Book PDF Free
With a dismissive wave, Waylon said, “I’m not hungry right now. You two enjoy yourselves.”
After bidding Waylon goodbye, Andrew and Isabella headed back into the villa.
As soon as Andrew set down his bag and car keys, he couldn’t resist pulling Isabella into a warm embrace from behind.
His head rested against her neck, nuzzling gently. The sensation tickled, and Isabella instinctively shrank away, her shoulders rising in protest.
“What are you doing, darling?”
Isabella attempted to push him away, but every time she did, Andrew would return, like a loyal and overly affectionate dog. Eventually, Isabella gave up her half-hearted resistance, allowing him his way.
Her surrender only emboldened Andrew, who took her compliance as an unspoken invitation. His affection shifted subtly into something more possessive, an intensity radiating from him like a magnetic pull.
“Isabella…” he murmured, his voice low and husky.
His hand, warm and insistent, slid around her waist, pulling her closer until his tall frame enveloped her completely from behind. Andrew’s lips inched closer to Isabella’s, stopping tantalizingly just a breath away from hers, the gap barely a centimeter.
Under his touch, Isabella’s eyes fluttered closed.
His gaze lingered on her trembling lashes, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he spoke in a low, intimate tone that sent shivers down her spine. “Kiss me.”
The kiss Isabella anticipated never came. Instead, the heat of Andrew’s breath enveloped her, igniting every nerve. Confused, she slowly opened her eyes, and the sight before her made her cheeks flush a deep crimson.
They were impossibly close—too close.
Andrew had deliberately stopped.
Isabella’s watery eyes flicked to his mischievous expression, a silent accusation lingering in her gaze. She hesitated, unsure whether to move or to wait.
Noticing her reaction, Andrew shifted slightly, his long fingers brushing her chin ever so lightly. “Hmm?”
Caught in his intense, almost overpowering stare, Isabella gave in. She tilted her head and closed the distance herself, offering him the kiss he so clearly demanded.
“Mmm…”
After the kiss ended, Andrew, like a contented big cat, scooped Isabella up effortlessly and gently placed her on the plush sofa. He meticulously arranged a tablet, a glass of juice, and a selection of snacks in front of her.
Then, with a playful pinch to her delicate cheek, he said affectionately, “Relax and enjoy yourself for a bit. I’ll take care of the cooking.”
With that, Andrew rose and strolled into the kitchen. Isabella remained on the sofa, her gaze lingering on the perfectly arranged setup before her. She couldn’t help but marvel. Andrew truly was remarkable.
Even when it came to the smallest things, he did everything so perfectly.
The villa’s pantry was replenished daily, thanks to Andrew’s meticulous nature. In the kitchen, his movements were efficient and orderly. It wasn’t long before he began placing freshly prepared dishes on the dining table.
After dinner, they tidied up together. Andrew then headed off to handle some work, leaving Isabella in the living room, her tablet in hand.
She opened a file containing Marcus and Luka’s completed garment designs, which had been compiled into a sleek booklet. According to Marcus, it was meant for her to review and provide suggestions for any potential improvements.
The moment Isabella began scrolling through the designs, she was captivated by their sheer beauty.
Each of the 30 sketches reflected an extraordinary cultural collaboration, leaving her increasingly impressed as she explored further.
The garments incorporated traditional craftsmanship while seamlessly blending traditional and modern aesthetics. Marcus’s unique vision and ingenuity shone through in every detail, elevating the designs to something truly extraordinary. The garments not only catered to contemporary tastes but also preserved the enchanting charm of traditional culture.
Isabella silently admired Marcus’s talent for a while and then sent him a worshipful emoji.
“Marcus, I’ve reviewed all your design drawings. They’re absolutely stunning—true masterpieces. They’ve also sparked new inspirations for my fashion designs. I’m already looking forward to the show,” she said.
Marcus responded quickly, curious about the inspiration Isabella had mentioned.
Isabella openly shared her thoughts, and the two enjoyed a lively and meaningful conversation. After an hour, mindful of Marcus’s health, Isabella decided to end the discussion and urged him to rest.
Setting down the tablet, Isabella stood up and heated two cups of milk, handing one to Andrew.
“It’s almost nine o’clock. Let’s save the rest of the work for tomorrow, shall we?” she suggested. Andrew accepted the cup with a nod.
“I’ll finish this one. You go take a bath first,” he replied.
Isabella left the study, while Andrew continued reviewing the file open on his computer. It was the final plan for expanding into the chip market in Mafelen.
After thoroughly confirming the plan was flawless, Andrew approved it and shut down the computer.
The following day, Isabella didn’t leave with Andrew but chose to drive herself to Patton Group.
She carefully timed her departure to avoid rush hour, expecting a smooth journey. However, while she was waiting at a red light, a reckless Ferrari rear-ended her car.
The sudden impact left Isabella momentarily stunned. Then she felt relieved that she was driving the cheaper car today. It wouldn’t hurt as much if it was damaged.
She prepared to step out and address the situation, but as she unbuckled her seatbelt, a man in a suit and sunglasses rapped on her window with his knuckles. “Get out.”
The man’s authoritative tone made Isabella’s expression turn icy.
She stepped out of the car and glanced toward the Ferrari behind her.
Sitting inside was a blonde foreign girl, also wearing sunglasses. The girl cast a brief glance in Isabella’s direction before quickly looking away.
Even through the dark lenses, Isabella could feel the piercing, judgmental gaze, as if she were being appraised like an object. The air of disrespect was palpable.
The man in the suit casually pulled out his wallet, extracted a thick stack of cash, and handed it toward Isabella. “Take this money and leave. Don’t block our way,” he said dismissively.
Isabella was speechless.
The blatant arrogance and condescending attitudes of the two were infuriating. She glanced at the stack of cash—it was no small amount, but the sheer disdain accompanying it made her stomach churn.
A cold smile tugged at her lips as irritation bubbled to the surface.
Isabella sneered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Do you really think this money is enough to make me walk away?” Her defiance caused the man’s brow to furrow.
The man took out a few more bills and warned, “This is more than enough to repair your BMW, Lorpond woman. Don’t be greedy.”
Isabella’s patience snapped, and she decided against settling the matter amicably.
The fault for the rear-end collision wasn’t hers. She took out her phone and said coldly, “You and the woman in the car should apologize to me first. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to involve the traffic police to handle this accident.”
Her defiance irritated the man in the suit, and the two of them wasted quite some time arguing. Nearby cars honked impatiently as drivers maneuvered around the scene.
Eventually, the blonde girl stepped out of the Ferrari, her expression one of unmistakable annoyance.
She strutted over in high heels, stopping just five steps away from Isabella, as if getting any closer might soil her in some way.
“Why is it taking so long, Nathan?” she asked, her tone sharp and entitled.
The man, Nathan Hayes, straightened immediately and replied with deference, “This Lorpond woman insists we apologize.” The girl turned her attention to Isabella, and even through her sunglasses, Isabella could feel the piercing sharpness of her gaze.
Behind the tinted lenses, the girl’s eyes narrowed. She was clearly branding Isabella as insatiable.
She swept a disdainful glance over Isabella’s modest BMW, noting her plain attire devoid of any luxury brand labels, and the absence of jewelry.
With a sneer, she said, “You want me to apologize? Who do you think you are? Take this money and leave—don’t waste my time.” Her arrogance, even on Lorpond territory, was staggering.
Isabella’s lips curled into a frosty smile. Without further words, she calmly dialed the traffic police.
The officers arrived within two minutes, as they were already in the vicinity.
“What’s going on? Isn’t it just a rear-end collision? The Ferrari is clearly at fault. The owner is responsible for apologizing and providing compensation,” one officer stated firmly.
The traffic officers began handling the situation by the book, while Isabella stood back, arms folded, waiting for the blonde girl and Nathan to offer their apologies.
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