POV of Isabella
*
I inhaled for another five seconds while tightly pressing my hand against my chest, heaving a happy sigh as I fixed my gaze on the phone's display. Even after all these years, he was still as attractive as I remembered, and I was happy for the young man who had developed from a Star youngster into someone who now inspired others to work hard and be tenacious in everything they did.
saying, "I love you." I inhaled heavily as though it were the first time I was seeing the film when Harry Styles repeated himself.
With a silly grin on my face, I double-clicked on the video to indicate that I had just liked and disliked it for the zillionth time. I played the movie once more and focused on it like a young girl who had just received a new toy and couldn't wait to use all of her energy.
No one could comprehend my Harry-obsession. I didn't like him just because of his appearance or his singing ability. He was a fantastic source of inspiration, which is why I liked him.
His songs were written from the heart, and I felt less distant from him by following him on all social media sites.
I was among his top stalkers on practically all social media platforms, so it was clear he had compassion for others. Since I was sixteen, I have loved all of his posts, commented crazily on them, and even included him in my list of people I occasionally pray for because he always made me happy, which meant he must be active as a performer and public figure.
Yes, I adored him so fiercely!I typed a comment while squealing like a high school kid whose boyfriend had just proposed to her and then contemplated exploiting my data for other purposes before logging off of Instagram.
I quietly placed the phone to my ear and immediately clicked on the same video I had been watching for the previous ten times.
I was listening to Harry recite the words again when I heard a low murmur of a string of colorful words behind me, audible enough for me to hear in the silence that was now all about me. I smiled and craned my neck to the side, assuming it was Declan, but the smile vanished quickly. My heart might have been palpitating.
In spite of his professional dress and confused appearance at the kitchen entry after a clearly exhausting day at work, the young master struck me as being oddly attractive. What was his goal? He appeared different from how he typically does, and his hair was a little messy, as though he had had a very difficult day at work.
He never voiced any dissatisfaction with the cleaning or kitchen tasks. He didn't even offer an initial remark. Mama managed everything in the home and only informed him when it was essential. I sensed the entire room encircling me as he entered the kitchen.
Or at least that's how I saw this kitchen: He was invading my personal space. Apart from my own chamber, a location away from the young master was the only location away from the mansion's owner.
"Sir?" As soon as I realized he was looking at me, I squeaked, which caused me to lose my footing while simultaneously trying to drop my phone and light the stool. I mentally groaned as I closed my eyes, knowing that this man, who never missed an opportunity to make me look bad, would witness my impolite fall.
I was immediately relieved when I felt sturdy arms surround and steady me; nevertheless, it didn't hit me till later. His cologne's potent scent jolted me back to reality, and I tensed.
Why wasn't fate kind enough to let me enjoy the sensation of just looking at Harry Styles nonstop? Why did the young master need to enter at this precise moment?
And why on earth was I so clumsy that I simply could not carefully drop my phone without falling off a blasted stool?
Isabella, You have greatly disappointed me! I reprimanded myself in my head.
He was still holding me, I see. I stretched out to grasp the counter's edge correctly and immediately wriggled free of his grip.
"Sir, did you need anything?" I took a breath and steadied myself. Right now, my face ought to be as red as a tomato. I'm relieved that I didn't stutter.
I had been avoiding him like the plague ever since he kicked me out of his room the other day, and I had also promised mom that whenever it came to getting him ready for his bath, I would always trade places with her or Genevieve, the other housekeeper. She asked why, and all I could say was that I didn't want what happened when he snapped at me to happen again.
He opened his mouth slightly and flicked his long, dark eyelashes twice.
"You." Wait....what?!
~°~
Alexander's pov
• "Wha-what?" She shrieked. She went scarlet in a matter of seconds.
When she turned around, a protective impulse caused her to reflexively throw her arms around her stomach. I questioned how far her cheeks could flush. What did I do? I'd be sending the wrong message to the girl if I kept stuttering like a complete moron.
"When do classes resume?" I asked at last, after gathering myself. I believed that I had already asked that question 50,000 times in my thoughts.
"Tuesday next week, sir," Exactly the same, Sir! But if my name were to come from her soft lips, it would sound better. I pondered what it might sound like when spoken by her. I then had an idea and gave myself a mental pat on the back.
"This Friday, I want to accompany you to a gathering of 'economic influencers. It is intended for people interested in politics and some aspects of international economy. Additionally, partners were invited, and you are welcome to bring a guest. I wanted to mention "someone special," but doing so might reveal some information.
If I referred to her as special, would she freak out and decline to come home from school during the upcoming holiday?
And you want me to accompany you? she asked. Her eyes had the awed radiance of a little child. I nearly moaned but restrained myself. I didn't know what to do with the attraction I was experiencing as I stood in front of her, yet delaying action would kill me.
"Hmm."
Like... jointly? She muttered while squeezing her fists on the edge of the counter, which she was still firmly holding. My features started to sag in a frown.
It was accompanied by a very unpleasant feeling. I detested her voice. She spoke as if she were a commoner and I were a king.
Yes, Isabella was an exception; her mother was my cook. Even Camilla was an exception because she was more of a mother figure to me than a cook and had been with me since I was a child. Isabella was remarkable and unknowingly captured my heart.
"Sir?" She sought reassurance.
"Yes. Let your hair hang wild and wear red."
I turned away and moved forward quickly. It would be preferable to me losing control, for god's sake! I was about to leave while picking up my bag when I overheard a voice tinged with bewilderment and a hint of astonishment ask, "I should let my hair loose?"
"Yes. It enhances your intelligence. I declared.
It gave her a sweet appearance. Beautiful. Dashing. even though I would tell her those details later. When she would feel comfortable calling me Alexander. when she would know that I had always been hers and she had always been mine.
Her affection had always been mine.