Taming My Sugar Mommy
Chapter 35: Blind spot

Chapter 35: Blind spot

Liam slipped from the bed, careful not to disturb Isabella’s sleep. The marble floor was cold against his feet as he pulled on his trousers and made his way to her kitchen.

’Know her routine better than my own now,’ he thought, reaching for her favorite tea. ’Earl Grey, loose leaf, imported from that pretentious shop in Mayfair.’

He moved with practiced ease through her pristine kitchen. The space smelled of fresh bread and vanilla from yesterday’s baking. Maria wouldn’t be by for hours yet—she ran the household with military precision, never arriving before nine.

’Woman runs this place like a fortress,’ he mused, measuring the loose leaves with careful attention. ’Just a splash of milk, no sugar—because God forbid anything in Isabella Ashworth’s life be sweet.’

The kettle’s whistle pierced the morning quiet just as his phone vibrated.

Christina: "All clear this morning. Doing perimeter check at 8:30."

’Good girl,’ he thought, typing back a quick thanks. Having her as his personal security had turned out better than expected. Sharp, loyal, and—most importantly—willing to keep Isabella in the dark when necessary. He missed the slight delay before her response, the way her usually prompt messages now carried a weight he wasn’t yet ready to notice.

Steam curled upward as he poured the water, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. He arranged everything on one of her ridiculously expensive trays. The cup—some fancy French porcelain that probably cost a month’s rent—looked impossibly delicate in his calloused hands.

He paused at her balcony garden, selecting a single dark red rose that matched the shade of lipstick she’d worn last night. Placed it beside the teacup, a calculated touch.

’Always in the details,’ he reminded himself.

Morning light spilled through the windows as he carried the tray back to her bedroom. Isabella lay still, but her breathing had changed rhythm—she was awake, pretending not to be. He set the tray down softly, letting the tea’s aroma do the work.

"Bloody hell, you’re up early."

He turned to find her watching him, voice still husky with sleep. Her hair fanned across the pillow, makeup slightly smudged beneath her eyes—vulnerable in a way few ever witnessed.

"Thought you might want a proper cup of tea," he said, keeping his tone casual. "Know how you get without your morning fix."

She sat up, silk sheets pooling around her waist. "Do you now?"

"Been paying attention, ain’t I?" He handed her the cup, letting his fingers brush against hers deliberately. "Maria won’t be here for a while, so I figured I’d make myself useful."

Isabella took a sip, and he caught the slight widening of her eyes—surprise that he’d made it exactly right.

’Got you,’ he thought, suppressing a smile.

"Well, well. You’re full of surprises, Mr. Campbell."

He gave a lazy shrug. "You lot like things a certain way. Thought I’d adapt."

She arched an eyebrow, watching him over the rim of the cup. "That so?"

"Mm." He stretched, knowing her eyes would follow the movement. ’Predictable as sunrise,’ he thought as her gaze tracked the lines of his body.

"Learn fast when I have to."

He leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her forehead. "Gonna grab a shower before work," he murmured against her skin, then pulled away and headed for the bathroom.

Through the mirror’s reflection, he caught her staring at the rose, turning it between her fingers with a thoughtful expression.

’Might be getting in too deep here,’ he admitted to himself as the shower’s steam began to rise. ’But then again, so is she.’

Liam emerged from the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips, glancing ruefully at his wrinkled clothes from last night’s dinner. He hadn’t planned on staying over, but one thing had led to another. Isabella was already dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than a car, checking her phone with that familiar crease between her brows as she scrolled through emails.

"Been thinking," he said casually, picking up his shirt from where it had landed near her dresser. "About what you said last week, about expanding the security division."

She glanced up, expression carefully neutral. "Have you now?"

"Yeah." He began dressing in yesterday’s clothes, moving with deliberate slowness. "Reckon I could help with that. Got connections in places your fancy business types wouldn’t know about."

"Is that what this morning was about?" Her lips curved slightly. "Trying to prove your worth beyond the obvious?"

He turned to face her, letting a hint of vulnerability show in his expression - calculated, like everything else. "Nah, love. This morning was about showing you I mean what I said yesterday. About staying. About us." He moved closer, voice dropping. "The business thing? That’s just me proving I can be useful in all sorts of ways."

"I’ll think about it," Isabella replied, her expression softening momentarily before she glanced at her watch. "I need to get to the office. We’ll continue this conversation later."

With a quick kiss that surprised them both, she was gone, leaving Liam to contemplate how quickly things were changing between them.

A week later, Sarah finally had enough. She Manning watched Isabella stride into the office, fifteen minutes later than usual. In six years working as her executive assistant, Sarah had perfected the art of reading Isabella Ashworth’s moods, but lately, something was different. A week had passed since she first noticed the change - subtle at first, like ripples in still water. Her boss’s legendary ice queen persona had started showing cracks, and Sarah knew exactly why: Liam Campbell.

Today marked the third time she’d caught Isabella smiling at her phone, not the sharp calculated smile reserved for business deals, but something softer, almost girlish. It was unsettling, like watching a tiger purr.

"Lady Ashworth?" Sarah ventured, setting down the quarterly reports. "Your three o’clock cancelled."

Isabella looked up, the smile vanishing so quickly Sarah might have imagined it. But she hadn’t. It was becoming a familiar sight these days.

"Good," Isabella said, back to business. "Move my four-thirty earlier then."

Sarah nodded, hesitating at the door. "Will Mr. Campbell be joining you for the evening meeting?"

Something flickered in Isabella’s eyes. "No, he has other commitments tonight."

But that smile returned the moment Sarah left, when another message lit up her phone.

The hours blurred together after that. Isabella’s day became a whirlwind of shareholder expectations and market projections, of rivals to outmaneuver and allies to cultivate. Yet beneath it all ran an undercurrent of something else - those moments when her attention drifted, when her fingers ghosted over her phone, reading messages that had nothing to do with profit margins or corporate takeovers.

By the time the London sky had shifted to watercolor twilight, Isabella was already heading down to the private garage where Liam waited, leaning against her car with that infuriating smirk that still made her pulse quicken despite herself.

"Productive day, Lady Ashworth?" he asked as Marcus held the door open for them both.

"Always," she replied, sliding in beside him, their shoulders touching as the car pulled away from the tower. Their conversation faded to murmurs as they wove through London’s evening traffic, the familiar route to Liam’s place requiring no instructions to Marcus anymore.

**

Later That Evening, the security cameras tracked the rolls Royce approach as Christina checked her watch, the knot in her stomach tightening. She’d watched this scene play out too many times lately—Isabella’s car arriving precisely on schedule, Liam emerging from the passenger side with that satisfied smirk he wore more often these days.

She stood at the gate of Liam’s modest townhouse, watching as he stepped out, noting how Isabella’s hand lingered on his arm before Marcus pulled away. As head of Liam’s personal security detail - a position that had once been strictly professional before feelings complicated everything - Christina couldn’t help but feel the twist in her heart at the gesture. Her mind flashed to the Valentine’s gift she’d left on his bed - the one he never saw because he’d spent that night, and so many since, at Isabella’s.

"All clear inside," she said as he approached. "Perimeter’s secure."

Liam nodded, unlocking his front door. "Cheers. Been a long day."

She followed him in, the words she’d been holding back all week finally rising to the surface. "Longer for some than others."

He turned, catching something in her tone. "Something on your mind?"

"Funny you should ask." She moved to the kitchen counter, struggling to maintain her professional demeanor. "Been meaning to talk about Valentine’s Day."

"What about it?"

"The gift I left. On your bed." Her eyes met his, and for once, she let him see everything she’d been hiding. "The one you never mentioned because you were too busy having dinner with Lady Ashworth."

Liam’s expression shifted from confusion to realization. "What gift?"

"Don’t." Her laugh was soft, hurt. "I know exactly where you were. It’s literally my job to know. Just like I know how she looks at you now. How you’ve gotten under her skin."

"Chris-"

"You didn’t even notice, did you?" She stepped closer. "Too focused on playing your games with her to see what’s right in front of you. I’ve been here, watching your back, keeping your secrets. But you only see her."

Liam ran a hand through his hair, genuinely thrown off balance for once. "I never saw any gift."

"Every night, it’s the same. Straight to her house, not even a second thought." Her voice softened. "I’ve watched you change her. The great Lady Ashworth, actually smiling at her phone like some schoolgirl. But what about the people who’ve been here all along?"

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken things.

"I should check the perimeter again," Christina said finally, but her usual professionalism couldn’t quite mask the pain in her voice. She stepped toward the door, pausing only briefly. "You’re not as observant as you think you are, Liam."

She left him standing there, his carefully constructed world suddenly less certain than it had been that morning.

Through his window, he could see her making her rounds, the familiar routine unchanged despite everything that had shifted between them. He thought about how she always seemed to know his schedule, how she anticipated his needs, how she’d kept every secret he’d ever trusted her with.

’Well, fuck,’ he thought. His game with Isabella had made him blind to other players on the board.

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