Chapter 73 Kissing My Own Wife Is Not Harassment

"Two hundred grand for one night. If you wanna split the bill, just cough up a hundred K," George said, eyes locked on Isabella as she clutched her pocket. She shot back, "I don't have that kinda cash."

"Stay the night, and we'll call it even," he offered.

Sounded like a sweet deal, but Isabella had her own rules. "I can stay, but don't expect anything funny."

"Not that desperate."

"True." Isabella sneered, "You're quite the catch."

"Isabella, you got me all wrong." George pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. "I don't settle for just anyone."

"Let go of me," she snapped, annoyed by his touch.

"You owe me an apology," he said.

Isabella glared, "Why should I apologize?"

"If you won't apologize, then kiss me." George leaned in, but Isabella shoved him away. "Get lost."

"Fine," George smirked. "I'll kiss you."

He flipped her over, pinning her beneath him. She looked up, seeing her reflection in his eyes, and blushed. 'Seriously, why now?' she thought.

As George's lips neared hers, she quickly covered her mouth. "George, don't be a jerk."

"Kissing my wife isn't harassment," he said, pinning her wrists above her head. "Don't say stuff like that. It's embarrassing."

'Is he really this kind of guy? He can't be,' she wondered.

"George, I'm hungry," Isabella said, blinking pitifully.

George knew she was dodging, but played along. "Alright, let's eat first."

He got up, pulling her with him. "The owner of this place knows how to live. Let's see what's on the menu."

George reached for her hand, but she hid it behind her back.

He smiled, shaking his head.

Leaving the guest room, they saw guests moving between the dining room and the kitchen, waiting for the food.

George led the way, Isabella trailing behind.

The kitchen was buzzing with activity. Over a dozen chefs were whipping up various dishes. The smell was mouthwatering.

Isabella's stomach growled loudly, making her blush.

The food wasn't ready yet, so they stepped outside to watch the sunset.

George strolled out, gazing at the setting sun before turning to Isabella.

She stood on the steps, the sunset glow turning her face red and her white coat a warm orange. Her long lashes cast shadows like a medieval painting.

"So beautiful," she murmured.

"Yeah, very beautiful."

But George was admiring Isabella, while she was lost in the sunset.

Feeling his intense gaze, Isabella felt awkward and turned to go back inside.

The chefs had laid out the food, and the long dining table was packed with guests.

There was vintage silverware, elegant wine glasses, fragrant red wine, and a violinist playing live music.

Seated, Isabella glanced at George across the table. He looked all composed and elegant, even holding his knife and fork like he was born with them.

A server kept the dishes coming, and just as Isabella finished one, another was placed in front of her.

The whole dining vibe screamed high-class and style.

Everyone ate their fancy dinners in silence, the only sounds being the clinking of cutlery against plates.

After the meal, there were desserts made by some top pastry chef, all fancy and delicious.

When the meal ended, the guests scattered for free time, leaving just George and Isabella in the big dining room.

Isabella was about to head upstairs to rest, but George grabbed her hand and said, "Let's go for a walk."

"It's too cold, I don't wanna go." Isabella tried to pull her hand away, but he held on tighter.

George took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. "How about now?"

"I don't want it. What will you wear? If you catch a cold, I can't be responsible." She tried to move, but he pressed her shoulders. "Men don't get cold."

"George, you're really messed up," Isabella muttered under her breath.

They walked hand in hand to the small garden behind the estate. Despite the season, there was a small patch of lilacs, clearly specially cultivated with some fancy heating equipment.

Looked like the estate owner really loved lilacs.

Isabella remembered that Hazel loved lilacs too, always painting them in every color.

Next to the garden was a swing covered in flower vines. Isabella had loved swings since she was a kid, and she rushed over as soon as she saw it.

She sat on it, gently swinging, the wind lifting her hair like a dancing little fairy.

But there was always a faint sadness in Isabella's eyes. She seemed carefree, but she wasn't happy at all.

George just watched her, seeing her deep in thought, like her little head was filled with countless worries.

"What are you thinking about?" George asked.

Isabella glanced at him. "George, I wanna ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"Would you give up everything for love? Your life, money, and being the Spencer heir?" she asked.

George didn't know what Isabella meant by this. He had never thought about it, nor had he ever anticipated it. He couldn't give her a definite answer.

"I don't know," he answered.

Isabella was a bit disappointed but understood, so she said, "Actually, love isn't everything to a man, but to a woman, it can be life-threatening. So, a woman who falls in love will suffer greatly."

"Are you talking about yourself?" he asked.

Isabella looked into George's eyes for a long time before blinking. "Yes, that's why we must get a divorce."

"After the divorce, do you plan to never marry again? Or never fall in love again? You're still young." George's words carried a hint of sarcasm.

Isabella knew he didn't believe her. She didn't know what the future held, but for now, this was how she felt.

Isabella glared at George, who smiled. He said, "I mean, I'm not that harmful. I know you're angry. Let's go back to the room before you catch a cold."

George tried to put his arm around Isabella's shoulder, but she shrugged him off. "Don't touch me."