Damian succeeded in preparing avocado toast with perfectly poached eggs, the yolks slightly runny, just the way Alina liked it. The aroma of fresh herbs and warm bread filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee. They ate together, sitting across from each other at the small kitchen table, a quiet ritual that had been gradually becoming part of their lives. It was simple, yet profoundly intimate.
The kitchen was enveloped in a gentle silence, broken only by the faint clink of cutlery and the soft hum of the refrigerator. Alina could feel Damian's eyes on her, a subtle warmth In his gaze that made her heart flutter in ways she didn't expect. Every tick of the clock seemed amplified by the awareness of his presence, and she caught herself stealing glances at him, noting the curve of his jaw, the relaxed set of his shoulders, and the quiet concentration on his phone as he occasionally scrolled through something.
Alina shook her head slightly, trying to push down the absurd fluttering in her chest. She still couldn't believe a man of Damian's caliber—a man most people would climb mountains to even catch a glimpse of—was sitting here, casually eating breakfast with her, planning a future, and making her feel like she belonged. It was absurd. And yet… it was undeniably thrilling.
When she finished her breakfast, Alina stood and began clearing the dishes, her movements almost automatic. Damian picked up his phone, fingers moving deftly across the screen, oblivious to the quiet anticipation that clung to the room.
"Alina," Damian called suddenly, standing up. He reached over and patted her head lightly, a gesture that made her pause mid-motion. "I'm leaving. I'm sorry, but I got caught up in something." His sigh held a weight she couldn't quite interpret.
Alina's heart gave a small, rebellious flutter. Did he just… treat her like a child? She slapped his hand away lightly, but there was no malice in her motion, only an unspoken question. "It's alright," she replied softly, her gaze dropping to the floor. Why did the news of his departure make her chest feel so tight? What was wrong with her?
She tried to mask her unease with casual chatter. "Hump, about moving into your house… can we not do that? We're not practically married, and I prefer my space. You know, I have a family. My mother will be back soon, and my father… he might come home too. Kelvin would be the most excited about your offer, thank goodness he's not here." She laughed lightly, raising her eyes to meet his.
A small, knowing smile curved Damian's lips. He patted her head again, ruffling the already messy bun she had hastily tied that morning. "You're cute, Alina, like a little bunny," he teased, drawing her into an unexpected embrace. Her small frame pressed against his, and she caught the faint scent of him—cologne mingled with the warmth of his skin, heady and comforting.
Her own scent, a mix of body spray and the faint remnants of morning chores, seemed to intoxicate him, and she felt a rush of warmth at the way he inhaled deeply with his face buried in the nape of her neck.
Her cheeks flamed a deep pink as his lips brushed the sensitive skin of her neck. "That was… unhygienic," she murmured, pulling back with a playful scold, trying to regain some composure.
Damian grinned mischievously. "I know. Take care of yourself, will you?" He turned on his heels, his coat flaring slightly as he prepared to leave. Alina followed, her steps hesitant but purposeful, until they reached the front door.
"I will, likewise," she said, opening the door. A blast of icy winter air met her, causing goosebumps to ripple across her skin. Her breath clouded in the cold, and she shivered slightly. A sleek Bentley gleamed in the morning sun, parked perfectly in front of her house, waiting for him.
'Meow.' Petra, her curious little cat, stretched luxuriously and padded over to sit beside Alina's feet as Damian slipped into the car, the engine purring softly before accelerating away. Alina bent to scoop her up, smiling. "You like him, don't you, Petra?" she asked playfully, cradling her furry companion and shutting the door behind her.
'Meowww.'
Alina chuckled softly as she moved toward the kitchen, ready to clean up the remnants of breakfast. She wiped the counter with a practiced hand, drying her hands when her phone buzzed insistently. Unlocking it, she frowned at the unfamiliar email notification. Curiosity prickled at her as she opened it.
"Good day, Alina Thorn,
We're pleased to inform you that you've been offered the position of Junior Fashion Designer at our company, Soléne Couture. Kindly visit us at our address below for further information."
Soléne Couture
4567 Melrose Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90038
United States
Have a great day,
Director,
Elliot Barnes.
"WHAT?!" Alina shrieked, the phone trembling slightly in her hand. She placed it on the counter and drew in sharp, incredulous breaths. Soléne Couture? One of the most prestigious fashion houses in the country, offering her a position without her even applying? She blinked rapidly, lifting the phone again, staring at the screen in disbelief.
Her mind raced. How did this happen? Damian. That man. He was always meddling in the most infuriating yet miraculous ways. She almost groaned at the thought—so much for taking credit for her own achievements. And yet, beneath the annoyance, joy bubbled fiercely in her chest.
Alina imagined Melinda, her former manager at VXN Apparel, watching this unfold. She could almost see the flustered expression, the disbelief, the fury—it was deliciously satisfying. Without another second wasted, Alina sprinted to her bedroom, rummaging through her wardrobe for something suitable. Today would be monumental. First stop would be reclaiming her designs from VXN Apparel, then stepping into a world she'd only dreamed of—Soléne Couture.
VXN Apparel had been her battleground and her classroom, a place that held the duality of joy and pain. Dressed in a dark blue jean skirt, a crisp white top, a woolen button-up sweater, and well-worn Converse, she walked into the building feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and triumph. Each hallway, each workstation whispered memories—friends, mentors, small victories, the exhilarating day an up-and-coming model wore her design, the sting of harsh critique, and the long hours spent perfecting what was never accepted.
"Alina?" The familiar voice jolted her from her thoughts. She turned to see Stacey jogging toward her, hair bouncing, excitement radiating from her like sunlight. Alina couldn't help but smile, rushing forward to envelop her friend in a tight, almost suffocating hug.
"I missed you!" Stacey whispered, her voice trembling with joy, like a child reunited with her mother after a long absence.
"I missed you too!" Alina replied, laughing as she struggled for air. "Stacey, you're squeezing the living hell out of me!"
Stacey grinned widely, releasing her. "I thought you wouldn't come for your stuff. Melinda was about to trash it all, so I saved it."
Alina exhaled in relief, nodding toward the workstation. "That's perfect. I don't have to face them after all."
"I was just about heading home," Stacey said, taking Alina's hand and pulling her toward the exit. "I couldn't let you stay here another second. This place is a cage."
Alina raised an eyebrow, worried. "You're ill, or something?"
Stacey shook her head fiercely. "I quit. I couldn't take Melinda's attitude anymore. You leaving just pushed me over the edge."
Alina nodded, understanding fully. Melinda's obsession with perfection and comparison to other companies had made life unbearable. VXN Apparel had always been about control, not creativity.
"Let's go," Stacey said, guiding Alina to a sleek silver Rolls Royce. Alina blinked. She hadn't expected such extravagance, though she quickly reminded herself Stacey wasn't poor.
Stacey giggled at her reaction. "It's my boyfriend's. I borrowed it today—he's off work." Her cheeks flushed pink.
"Congratulations!" Alina laughed, sliding into the passenger seat. The feeling was familiar, reminiscent of Damian's collection of luxury cars. She smirked; he might have many more at his disposal.
"So, how's life been treating you, Alina? You look healthier than the last time I saw you. Are you eating well?" Stacey asked playfully as they eased onto the road.
Alina chuckled softly. "Bitch," Stacey spat as their eyes passed Melinda at the entrance, scowling at them.
Alina's heart skipped a beat. I ate food prepared by my contract husband, she thought. "Food, Stacey," she replied calmly, refusing to give Damian any credit. "Also, I got a job at Soléne Couture."
Stacey's eyes widened, and she slammed the accelerator down, her excitement barely contained. "WHAT THE—?!" She quickly eased off to avoid her boyfriend's car wrath.
"You mean the top fashion company that Melinda has always envied? Oh my goshhh, that's amazing! If only we could work together…" Stacey's expression fell slightly.
Alina fidgeted, twisting the hem of her skirt. "I'm married."
"WHAT!!" Stacey shrieked, slamming on the brakes so hard the car screeched in protest.
SCREEEECHHH!!