Chapter 1
The spacious, brightly-lit Bath Chamber was enveloped in the steamy warmth of cascading hot water. Water flowed down steadily, splashing onto the delicate, bare skin of a woman, droplets glistening as they traveled from her long neck to her elegant collarbone. The contrast of her porcelain skin with the rich heat of the water heightened the pink blush of her nipples and accentuated her slender waist, slowly disappearing between the intriguing depths of her legs. Her long hair, reminiscent of a waterfall, cascaded down her back, nearly brushing against her perfectly rounded hips. As the hot water continued to flow, soaking her hair, she raised her hand to push it back, the gentle movement causing her full breasts to sway enticingly. Behind her, a large mirror on the wall fogged up, its reflection distorted by the humidity. The fresh scent of body wash lingered in the air, while a flickering light danced quietly across the polished marble countertop. — Elena Fairchild tilted her head slightly as she dried the ends of her still-dripping hair with a white towel, stepping out of the Bath Chamber. Beyond the Bath Chamber stretched a short corridor, unadorned and painted a simple white. It was enhanced by a few carefully selected decorations and dimly lit with small lamps, casting a cool glow. As she reached the end of the hallway, Elena instinctively glanced to her left, her movements stalling the moment she caught sight of him. At the end of the corridor stood a study. Leaning casually against the desk was a tall man dressed in a black shirt, the top button undone, exposing a tantalizing view of his throat and collarbone. He was strikingly handsome, with deep-set eyes and a faintly pursed mouth. The moment their gaze met, Elena felt frozen, captivated by the sharpness of his cool, indifferent stare as if she were a small creature pinned against the wall, too frightened to move. Her grip tightened around the towel she held, an unexpected wave of anxiety washing over her. Even though she hadn't done anything wrong, she knew exactly who this man was without him needing to introduce himself. After hesitating for a moment, she lowered the towel and took a few tentative steps forward, closing the gap between them. He maintained his relaxed posture, but his eyes now held a hint of amusement, as if waiting to see what trick she might pull. "I'm sorry," Elena managed to say, the apology the only thing on her mind. Sorry for using his Bath Chamber, although it hadn’t been her intention to intrude. Standing before him, she slowly raised her eyes to meet his piercing gaze. He leaned against the desk, and the advantage of his height felt overwhelming, pressing down upon her. Fresh from her bath, her cheeks still bore the flush of warmth, and her long, wet hair clung to her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled with moisture, and her lips were a vivid red. "Who let you in?" His voice was low and magnetic, yet cold. The faint scent of body wash lingered around her. Elena couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be losing patience. She bit her lip lightly, opening her mouth to speak, but the sound of a soft knock at the door interrupted her. "Sir?" His gaze flicked to her before turning towards the door. "Come in." At his invitation, the door swung open, and Alistair entered, followed closely by a middle-aged man. As soon as the man noticed Elena, he called out, "Elena Fairchild." A hint of feigned apology crossed his face as he turned to the tall man. "Mr. Brackenridge, my apologies for the trouble. This is my daughter, Elena Fairchild." — Later, at Brackenridge Manor's dining room, William Brackenridge, along with his father, Lord Brackenridge, shared dinner with the unexpectedly visiting Isabella Hawthorne. The table buzzed with the sounds of polite conversation, Isabella’s voice slightly sugary as she attempted to charm the elder Brackenridge. Elena sat quietly beside her, her demeanor docile as she occasionally glanced at William, who remained aloof, leaning back in his chair, completely ignoring her. — Once Isabella Hawthorne had left, William and his father took a brief stroll through the garden. The night breeze was gentle, and warm orange lights illuminated the lush green grass, leaving soft reflections on the dark fabric of their trousers. As they neared the house, William tapped lightly on his father’s hand. "Don’t underestimate the newcomers; they aren’t here for friendly visits." "I will handle it," William replied firmly. His father nodded, signifying to Alistair that he needn’t assist him, and they returned to the house alone. Before stepping into his study, William turned to Alistair, who had been trailing behind him. "Remember to let her go tomorrow." Alistair acknowledged with a nod. Isabella Hawthorne’s family had come earlier in the evening, and upon entering the parlor, she had accidentally spilled her drink on herself due to a careless servant. Alistair had intended to take her upstairs to clean up, but instead, they’d found her in the study. — William pushed open the door to the Bath Chamber. It appeared to have been tidied, the steam dissipated, and the floor sleek. He turned to glance at the mirror on the wall, but just as he was about to exit, his eyes caught sight of something on the countertop. There, something sparkled softly under the light. William approached, his long fingers delicately picking up the glimmer. A diamond-studded bracelet.
Chapter 2
In the carriage on the way back, Isabella Hawthorne asked Elena Fairchild about her earlier encounter in William Brackenridge's study. Elena replied honestly, “I had just stepped out of the Bath Chamber when my dad and Alistair showed up.” Isabella chuckled lightly, “You’ve gotten to know Mr. Brackenridge a bit, make sure to build friendships...” After a slight pause, she continued matter-of-factly, “Today’s events were a little rude. I’ve instructed my secretary to book a restaurant and invite Mr. Brackenridge for dinner as an apology for today’s mishap.” Elena nodded obediently, but her thoughts lingered on the word "friendship." She recalled William’s icy demeanor, the way his sharp gaze had seemed to pierce through her. She instinctively squeezed her hands together in her lap. Compared to Isabella’s attempt at friendly banter, William probably hadn’t ever considered her worth his attention. His intensity had been cold and distant... --- The next day, Isabella Hawthorne put her plans into action. In the spacious, elegantly designed office of Brackenridge Holdings, sunlight poured through the expansive windows, illuminating the polished floor. William Brackenridge sat in a sleek leather chair, dressed in a sharply tailored black suit, his expression cool and composed as his assistant stood before the desk, briefing him on the day’s agenda. After going through the schedule, the assistant added, “Just received a call from Hawthorne’s secretary. Their boss would like to arrange a lunch with you…” William cut him off without hesitation, “Find an excuse to decline.” “Understood.” The assistant acknowledged before turning to leave the office but was stopped by William’s voice. William pulled open a drawer and slid a small, dark blue box across the desk toward the assistant. “Take care of this too.” He grabbed a notepad and swiftly penned a few lines before handing it to the assistant. “No need to send someone personally, just have it shipped via courier.” As the assistant accepted the note, a glance fell on the name written there — Elena Fairchild. The name rang a bell. After a brief moment, realization struck; she was the daughter of the Hawthorne CEO who had just been turned down for lunch. --- Meanwhile, Elena Fairchild was sitting in her parlor with her stepmother, Lydia Ashford, when a delivery arrived. A maid carried in the signed-for package and handed it to Elena. She examined the cardboard exterior before informing Lydia, then carried it to her room to unpack it. Upon opening the box, she found another small, dark box nestled inside. With a slight frown, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and carefully opened the smaller box. There lay the bracelet she had thought lost upon returning home last night. No words accompanied the package, but Elena instinctively understood this was William Brackenridge's way of returning it. Isabella had mentioned earlier about their lunch plan being canceled by William, and now the bracelet was being returned via courier. She assumed they wouldn’t cross paths again. A breath of relief escaped Elena’s lips.
Chapter 3
The largest art center in the city is located in the northern part, a sleek and modern building that stands out in the skyline. It spans four floors, showcasing painting exhibitions, concerts, and movie screenings. Recently, the center announced an exhibition featuring a collection of French artists, and William Brackenridge, the primary investor, was invited as a distinguished guest for the grand opening. As William handed the ceremonial scissors back to a staff member beside him, he posed for a few photos with other attendees under the bright lights of cameras, his smile perfectly composed. Later, there would be a small reception for the media and guests in a private lounge adjacent to the exhibition hall. William didn’t linger in the lounge for long. He stepped outside and wandered into the exhibition hall, casually admiring the paintings hanging on the walls. His deep navy suit fit him impeccably, accentuating his broad shoulders and slim waist, making him stand tall—his mere silhouette drawing many eyes. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, he heard the soft patter of footsteps behind him, accompanied by a sweet, floral scent. Turning away from a painting, William looked to see who stood next to him. At his side was Elena Fairchild. Elena had long, elegantly curled lashes framing her expressive eyes, which sparkled with a hint of mischief. Her nose was delicately shaped, and her lips were plump and glistening red. His gaze drifted briefly over her gracefully curved neck and collarbone before quickly moving away, unwilling to linger. Elena swept her long hair back, tying it neatly. She wore small diamond earrings that shimmered subtly and a form-fitting coral-orange silk dress that clung to her slender waist, accentuating her graceful curves. The neckline dipped just enough to reveal a hint of her porcelain skin, barely concealing her figure, creating an innocent yet captivating allure. When Elena noticed William's attention shift to her, she offered a polite smile, ready to speak, but he quickly diverted his gaze again. Feeling a bit flustered but determined to break the silence, she said, "What a coincidence to run into you here in the exhibition hall, Mr. Brackenridge." William tilted his lips into an unreadable smirk, placing his hand in his suit pocket. He started walking forward, moving to the next artwork without responding to her comment or inviting her to walk alongside him. Yet Elena seemed undeterred, trailing closely behind him, her fragrance weaving through the air with each step. After glancing at a few more paintings, William appeared to lose interest and turned towards the exit of the exhibition hall. Just before reaching the doorway, Elena, caught up in a painting on the wall, momentarily lost focus. Suddenly, William whirled around, and she realized he had seen her distracted state. William stood before the first painting, his sharp features beautifully lit by the soft glow of the exhibit lights. He appeared relaxed, as if waiting for her to catch up. Elena, feeling awkward, stepped forward, her delicate hands instinctively clasping the small silver clutch at her waist. "Mr. Brackenridge, you seem quite engrossed in the exhibition. I have to attend to something, so don’t mind me,” he said with a teasing lilt, his deep voice brushing against her ear. Elena instinctively tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her lips parting to say something—anything—to hold him back. But her courage seemed to evaporate, leaving her with unspoken words as William turned to leave.
Chapter 4
William Brackenridge's gaze lingered on her lips for a brief moment before he turned away and exited the exhibition hall. Elena Fairchild remained at the art show for an additional half hour. When her phone buzzed with a call from Isabella Hawthorne, she stepped outside to answer in a hushed tone before returning to the artwork. Upstairs at the Northgate Art Center, a concert was about to begin. Elena handed her pre-reserved ticket to the usher. The concert hall had a tiered layout, and her seat was strategically placed in the center of the front row. As she approached, she noticed a man sitting next to her. He was dressed in a tailored dark suit. The sharp lines of his profile were striking. William Brackenridge. Elena walked slowly towards him. He inclined his head slightly, focused on the program in his hands. As she settled into the chair beside him, her movements were barely audible, yet he still sensed her presence. His cool gaze flicked from the program to her left, his brow furrowing slightly. The moment felt unexpectedly intimate. Elena found herself locking eyes with him. The armrests of their chairs separated them, yet the distance felt smaller than during their previous encounters. In this silent contest, Elena faltered first; her eyelashes fluttered as she looked away, catching a glimpse of the enticing angle of his neck where his collar gaped slightly, quickly redirecting her gaze elsewhere. William's eyes withdrew gently as well. Even before the concert began, Elena attempted to strike up a conversation. "I didn’t expect to see you here today... Have you taken care of everything on your end?" "You enjoy symphonic music, then." "The conductor used to perform in Vienna..." After a few sentences that went unanswered, Elena pursed her lips, feeling increasingly awkward. This wasn't how it should be. Fortunately, the concert soon commenced. The music flowed smoothly, building into a crescendo of passion and ultimately drifting into a serene harmony reminiscent of nature's calm. Elena became entranced by the melodies, her previously troubled expression softening, her eyes glistening with emotion as she focused on the stage. During the performance, she rested her elbow on the armrest, her bare skin brushing against the luxurious fabric of William’s suit sleeve. William leaned back in his chair, his long fingers resting momentarily on the armrest, but he didn’t pull away. Even after the last note reverberated through the hall, their arms remained in contact. As the house lights gradually brightened, signaling the end of the performance, the audience began to rise. William stood, and as his suit sleeve swept past Elena's vision, she felt momentarily dazed, lost in thought, until she realized he was already two seats ahead. She hurried to follow him. The crowd at the exit swelled, creating a logjam. Before her, the world seemed cloaked in darkness, but the scent of his cologne wafted close, wrapping her in a familiar comfort. His broad back was solid and reassuring, yet his demeanor remained distant, making it hard for her to connect.
Chapter 5
Stepping out of the conference hall, William Brackenridge headed straight to the underground parking garage to fetch his car. Elena Fairchild understood the unspoken cue and decided not to follow him. Today had already brought enough awkward encounters. Elena couldn’t drive, so she called her chauffeur, clutching her stylish handbag as she waited patiently in front of the art center. The sun was still shining brightly, and the freshly mown green grass in front of the art center exuded a faint scent of hay. She delicately covered her chest with her pale hand, exposing the smoothness of her white dress that her stepmother, Lydia Ashford, had chosen for her. Isabella Hawthorne, present at the event, hadn’t commented on it, which was a relief. Feeling the weight of some unwelcome gazes, she lowered her head in a shy manner. A sleek black sports car rolled up to her. The window slowly rolled down, revealing the stern profile of William Brackenridge. He glanced at her, noting the way she was holding herself: “No luck with a ride?” Elena shook her head, her striking black and white eyes revealing a hint of uncertainty. “The driver is on his way from the city, but hasn’t arrived yet.” He looked at her steadily. She met his gaze nervously, unsure whether to ask the question she felt lingering in the air, almost as if he was anticipating it. A gust of wind tousled her hair, brushing against her moist red lips. “Get in.” His terse command coincided perfectly with the sound of the window rolling up. As Elena opened the door and slid into the car, uncertainty washed over her. Her eyes subconsciously tracked his expression for clues, hoping she didn’t mishear his order. If it were a command, she could instantly make an escape. Soft music played inside the car, a band she wasn’t familiar with, and she felt herself easing into the soothing tunes. Before pulling out, William turned his head slightly, giving her a glance that felt indifferent. Perfectly timed, she was adjusting her seatbelt, her delicate figure framed by the black strap that skimmed across her elegant collarbone, barely concealing her fair skin. When she looked up, he had already shifted his focus back to the road. Turning away from the art center, they quickly encountered a red light. The car was enveloped in the sounds of music. After a day filled with discomfort around William, all Elena wanted was to sit quietly until they reached her home. The music playing in the car was pleasant, and she found herself blinking thoughtfully, contemplating ordering the album after returning home. “This is the new album from t. ballad,” William's magnetic voice broke into the silence as the music faded into a quieter moment. Cool and low, it resembled the timbre of a fine instrument. Surprised by his willingness to share, Elena turned her head to glance at him. Outside the darkened windows, blurred silhouettes of cars rushed by. Her gaze followed the elegant curve of his strong fingers to his handsome profile. The way he concentrated on driving made her unintentionally entranced. “It’s a niche band.” “Yeah,” he replied succinctly. --- The sports car stopped near the Hawthorne residence. Elena unbuckled her seatbelt, hesitating before reaching for the door handle, she tentatively asked, “Could I get your phone number?” William turned towards her, his muscular arm resting against the steering wheel, his gaze piercing, as if he could read her thoughts. After a moment, he extended his hand toward her. Feeling her tension ease, she pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and placed it in his warm, elegant grasp.
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