It was around six in the morning when Oakley was woken up by two maids – Grace and another one who had refused to share her name; refused to talk unless it was necessary.
They had dressed her up in a white silk shirt tucked into a knee-length pencil skirt paired with a four inch black heel. Her brown, wavy hair was left to fall freely on her back.
When she went downstairs, she saw Bryce dressed in a black, tailored suit, his hair jelled back with only a few stubborn strands falling on his forehead.
Remembering what had happened earlier in the morning, she felt her cheeks burn as she wiped her palm on the sides of her skirt.
Oakley didn't think they would be meeting this soon. She needed time to get over what she had seen and a few hours was not enough.
What should she even say?
"G– good morning." She greeted awkwardly, feeling flustered by his gaze on her. She averted her eyes, looking everywhere but at him.
"You're coming with me."
He didn't return the greeting. Of course.
