*Isabella's POV*
His words—"I'll be home in no time"—drifted through the car like a comforting promise. They nurtured the butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach, each beat of my heart echoing in my ears. It was strange, really—how something so simple could stir such a storm within me.
Damien's mention of Jacob's flirtatious antics made me blush unexpectedly. I hadn't realized how sensitive I was to that topic, or maybe how much I was already invested in his approval and trust. The thought of Jacob's playful teasing, of Damien's brother's intense yet unpredictable nature, suddenly felt closer, more tangible. I wondered if I'd be able to navigate that, to support Damien through it all.
Before I fully grasped what I was doing, the words slipped out of my mouth—"I'll miss you, sir." The confession hung in the air, raw and unintentional, startling not only me but Damien as well. My cheeks grew warm, and I immediately wished I could snatch the words back, retreat into silence. But it was too late. The vulnerability in my voice revealed more than I intended, exposing a part of myself I hadn't meant to show.
I stared down at my hands, feeling exposed yet strangely lighter, as if voicing that sentiment had lifted a weight I hadn't fully realized I carried. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I wondered if Damien had heard the tremor in my voice—a mixture of longing, uncertainty, and something else I couldn't quite name.
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*Damien's POV*
Her words, "I'll miss you, sir", hit me like a punch to the chest. I felt it immediately, that unexpected rush of emotion, a strange ache that I was reluctant to admit. I had always known she was special, but hearing her say she'd miss me, so openly and honestly, made me realize just how much I cared—more than I'd ever allowed myself to admit.
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to respond with something that might reveal too much. I was her superior, her employer—bound by roles and expectations. Yet, beneath that facade, I longed to tell her how much her words meant, how much I wished I could reach out, somehow bridge the distance between us with more than just words.
I sighed softly. "I'll miss you too, Isabella, more than you know and more than I care to admit." The admission felt like a confession I wasn't supposed to make, a secret I desperately wanted to keep hidden.
I was caught between duty and desire—between what I wanted to say and what was appropriate. I had to suppress the truth, knowing that revealing too much might complicate everything. So I simply raised my hand briefly, a silent gesture of reassurance or perhaps a farewell, before turning my gaze away, masking the tumult of feelings swirling inside me.
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*Isabella's POV*
*Saturday Morning*
I was jolted awake by a frantic knocking at my door. Who could it be at this hour? Too tired to bother with anything remotely decent, I didn't bother to put on proper clothes—my pajamas, revealing and crumpled from sleep, hung loosely on my body. I hesitated a moment, then slowly opened the door.
Standing there was a woman I'd never met before. She entered without waiting for an invitation, wheeling in a clothing rack with bright enthusiasm. Her smile was wide and bright, almost infectious. "Good morning, Miss Williams," she greeted cheerfully, her tone professional yet bubbly.
I blinked, taken aback, my mind still foggy. "Who are you? And what is that?" I asked, gesturing vaguely at the clothing rack. "I'm Starr, Mr. Lancaster's personal stylist and I work with other celebrities too," she said confidently. "I'm here to doll you up. But Mr. Lancaster assured me—" she paused, eyeing me up and down, "you're already a doll."
My eyes widened involuntarily at her bluntness. Damn, I was still in my revealing pajamas making me feel exposed, vulnerable. Starr grinned mischievously. "My job's gonna be easy as fuck," she added with a wink.
Once I'd showered and managed to process the situation—trying to ignore the strange thrill mixed with anxiety—I sat down as she laid out her plans. "Okay, I've prepared three dresses for you. Galas demand a specific level of elegance, so all are long. Go on, try them on."
The first was an ombre pink dress, daring and sexy, exposing my back and part of my torso—a perfect blend of elegance and seduction. The second was a sleek black mermaid dress, hugging my curves tightly, screaming sexy and professional, yet sophisticated. The third was a soft baby blue, loose yet fitted, radiating innocence.
I instinctively gravitated toward the black dress. It made me feel powerful opposite of how I felt around Jacob. Hot. Sexy. Attractive. It was as if wearing it transformed me into someone else, someone confident and alluring. "Girl, you look amazing," Starr exclaimed, her eyes shining with admiration. I couldn't help but smile, feeling a rare surge of pride.
She leaned in, playfully adding, "I sure wish I was Mr. Lancaster tonight," making me roll my eyes. Why? To drool over me and then reject me? I shook my head, amused and exasperated. "Now, let's do your hair and makeup," Starr said, her tone shifting to serious professionalism.
What felt like hours, probably only forty-five minutes later, she stepped back to admire her work. "Now, that's my masterpiece," she declared as she finished the final touches on my makeup. My hair was elegantly gathered into a French bun, sophisticated and timeless.
"Thank you, Starr. Now, let me get you some food. I'm starving," I said, exhausted but eager to eat. "Ah ah," she replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'm not letting you leave just yet. Can't risk you ruining your makeup. Order room service. I'll stay and make sure everything stays perfect." Her teasing made me burst into laughter, the tension melting away as I appreciated her playful attitude.
That evening, I heard knocks at the door. My heart raced as I hurried to open it, expecting to see Jacob standing there. But instead, I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Standing before me was someone I never expected to see "Elly!?"