Chapter 15: Look the Part
Isadora walked up the grand staircase as if approaching a gallows, each step heavy with trepidation. The tray in her hands felt less like silver and more like lead. She found the door the last one on the right, just as Mrs. Luna had said and stood before it, gathering her courage. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she knocked softly.
"Come in," a muffled voice called from within.
She pushed the door open and stepped into a space that was both immense and starkly minimalist. The room was painted a brilliant, almost clinical white, broken only by a large, low-slung grey couch and the dark wood of a walk-in closet door. It was at least twice the size of her own room, yet felt strangely impersonal.
Her eyes found Sebastian. He stood with his back to her, a black silk robe tied loosely at his waist. He was drying his damp hair with a white towel, the muscles in his back and shoulders shifting with the motion.
"Mr. Charles," he began, his voice slightly muffled by the towel, "my grandfather called about…" He trailed off as he turned, his sentence dying on his lips when he saw it was not the butler. "Miss Anderson."
Isadora forced a tight, nervous smile, her gaze instinctively dropping from his face only to land directly on his exposed chest. The sight of his perfectly defined abs and the sharp 'V' line leading down beneath his robe sent a scorching heat flooding to her cheeks. She instantly snapped her eyes away, staring fixedly at a spot on the pristine white wall.
"M-Morning, Mr. Walker," she stammered, her voice thin. "Where should I put the tea?"
Seeing her flustered reaction, a slow, amused smile touched Sebastian's lips. He found her transparency oddly entertaining. He gestured vaguely toward a glass table near the couch. "Over there."
She practically scurried to the table, set the tray down with a soft clatter, and turned to make her escape, her eyes still glued to the floor.
"Wait."
His voice stopped her in her tracks just a step from the door.
"Take the card on the table."
Card? She looked back and saw a sleek, matte black credit card resting where she had just placed the tray.
"It's for you to use," he continued, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. "I've already informed Jane. She is to accompany you to GLAM. You can get anything you need there."
"GLAM?" The name burst from Isadora's lips in an involuntary, high-pitched squeak.
Sebastian raised a single, questioning eyebrow at her outburst. "I'm not sure of the name, but you girls know where the designer things are. Just go anywhere you can buy them." He said it with such nonchalance, as if sending someone on a multi-thousand-dollar shopping spree was a mundane Tuesday errand.
Isadora stood frozen, her mind reeling. Oh my god. GLAM. She had never even set foot inside the place. It was a temple of haute couture, a place she had once applied to for a job any job, even as a cleaner and had been politely, firmly rejected. And now, she was being sent there to shop.
Sebastian watched the play of emotions on her face the shock, the dawning excitement, the way she got lost in the thought of it. He had noticed everything the night before: the borrowed dress, the subtle shame in her posture. It didn't sit well with him. Regardless of the nature of their arrangement, she was under his roof. That placed her under his protection. And the girls her age that he knew the Jennifers and Chloes of the world took such luxuries for granted. She should have them, too. Seeing Jane's dress on her had sparked a cold curiosity about the Andersons' true situation, a question he had already tasked Zack with investigating. But for now, he simply wanted her to go shopping.
He saw the genuine, almost childlike happiness light up her features, a stark contrast to her usual guarded demeanor. But then, just as quickly, the smile froze and vanished. It was as if a curtain had fallen. She shook her head, her expression shifting to one of determined refusal.
"I… I can't do that, Mr. Walker. But thank you for offering. That is very kind of you." She moved to put the card back on the table.
Sebastian's voice cut through the air, stern and final. "Miss Anderson, you heard what my grandfather said, right? He wants to introduce you to everyone he knows as his granddaughter-in-law. So, you have to look the part now, don't you?"
He said it knowing it would override her refusal. It gave him a new insight into her character she was proud, but also pragmatic when backed into a corner.
Isadora stopped, her hand hovering over the card. And in that moment, she got it. This wasn't kindness. This was damage control. He didn't want her to be comfortable; he didn't want her to be happy. He didn't want her to embarrass him and his pristine, powerful family.
The look of grateful rejection instantly melted from her face, replaced by a cold, hard calm. She straightened her spine, her shoulders pulling back, and looked him directly in the eye for the first time.
"I will be sure not to hold back spending, then, Mr. Walker," she hissed, the title a venomous dart on her tongue. "And I will be sure not to embarrass you or your family."
With that, she turned on her heel, snatched the black card from the table, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her with a force that shook the frame.
Sebastian was left in the sudden, ringing quiet of his empty room. He stared at the closed door, completely nonplussed.
"What the fuck?" he said aloud to the silence. "Did I say something wrong?" He ran a hand through his damp hair, frustration bubbling up. "Maybe me trying to convince her she needs shopping is a bad idea." He could feel a headache beginning to form. He turned and stalked toward his closet, muttering under his breath the most baffling part of it all. "We're not even married yet."