Free Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel by Aria Hawthorne

loyalty to Phillip.  Her emotional needs—and her needs as a woman—would simply have to be put on hold for a few more years.  It had been a wonderful night of dancing, conversation, and flirtation.  But Isabel swiftly had been reminded that she was invited to these galas as Phillip’s assistant to further his professional agenda, not to advance her own personal life by entertaining the flirtatious advances of her boss’ competitor.
    She glanced over to Phillip, whose profile was shrouded in darkness.  His expression was stern and unflinching, like a marble statue of a Roman emperor.  But the accents of his wealth—his gold Rolex watch, his diamond cuff links, the shine of his polished Italian leather shoes—glinted every time they passed under the rolling lights of the street lamps.  His masculine black dress coat made him look like a man who feared nothing—other than the consequences of allowing others the privilege of coming too close to him. 
    “You’re very quiet tonight, Isabel.  Have you regretted your decision to come with me tonight?”  His deep Oxford accent unexpectedly disrupted the thick atmosphere of silence. 
    Isabel peered at him in surprise. “No, not at all.”
    His eyes were obscured by shadows, but the tenderness in his voice betrayed he wasn’t consumed with thoughts about business; he was considering her sincerity.
    “Of course, I wish sometimes I could spend more time with Aidan,” she confessed, smoothing down the folds of her dress along her legs. She felt his eyes, following her nervous preoccupation, and she raised her hand back into the slope of her lap.  “But I understand that you needed me there tonight, and I was happy to accompany you.”
    He unexpectedly reached out and touched her hand—both a gesture of gratitude and affection.  “Thank you for coming.  It was above and beyond the call of duty, and I want you to know that I deeply appreciate it.”
    Isabel felt herself flush.  Phillip rarely expressed affection, and she had long since grown used to his British reserve.  Even when they danced together, he led her with his expertise, not his touch—the delicate, flowing motions of master in synchronization with his muse.  Now, his hand barely lingered over hers before pulling away and Isabel suddenly realized that he was reaching out to her as a friend rather than a boss.
    “Was it difficult for you to tonight?” she cautiously asked. “With Symeon and Marlow there—together?”
    Phillip fully shifted his gaze towards her.  The deep shadows receded from the angles of his face and Isabel sensed the indecision within him—a rare moment of hesitation, as if he wanted to express something more to her, but refrained because he was uncertain about whether or not it was appropriate.
    “I am not generally one who has many regrets,” he finally said. “But I cannot deny that recent events have persuaded me to evaluate the past choices in my life—choices that now seem conspicuously flawed and negligent.”
    Isabel listened to Phillip’s bitter confession, searching out the deeper meaning beneath it.
    “Are you concerned because you shared confidential details about the business with Marlow?”
    Phillip winced, as if a hammer cracked through the sculpted lines of his frown.  “Good God, no.”  He snorted with amusement. “I quickly learned—early on—the only thing worthy of sharing with Marlow was my bed.  And even now, I realize my error behind that choice.” 
    Isabel smiled.  She couldn’t help it.  Marlow was young, beautiful, and seductive.  But she was also rude, spoiled and capricious—completely different than Phillip in every way.  Isabel knew very little about Phillip’s childhood, but she did know that he had used his love of books and schooling to ascend the ranks of his class in England and attend Harvard Business School on scholarships; Marlow, on the other hand, was a privileged heiress who partied her way through college on