Chapter 8
“What the hell?” Ivy muttered under her breath, staring at the door that had just slammed shut
She couldn’t believe Rosie just threatened her. For what? Why?
her.
She’d barely steady her nerves when the door opened again. Bracing herself for Rosie, she relaxed when she saw it wasn’t h
“Hello, ma’am, I’m Monica” An elderly woman entered with a warm smile.
“Hi, Monica. I’m Ivy. Silas’s…” she trailed and cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yes, ma’am” Monica nodded. “I just came to introduce myself as your personal maid. If you need anything. I’m here for you.”
Monica’s smile was sweet–a sheer contrast to Rosie’s, and it made Ivy feel comforted. “Thank you very much.”
“The rest of the staff would come by to introduce themselves. Mr. Stone said to tell you he’s waiting for you downstairs.”
“Alright, I’ll be there.” Ivy smiled.
Monica nodded and left. Ivy inhaled deeply, counting to ten before making her way downstairs. To her dismay. Rosie was still there.
“How do you like your room?” Silas asked, seated exactly where he’d been earlier. “I didn’t think you’d find your way so easily.”
“Oh, it was easy.” Ivy replied, sitting down.
“I remember how many times Kim got lost in this house, Rosie said with a loud laugh, tossing her head back.
“Ah, yes,” Silas chuckled, though his eyes shifted with something sharp.
Ivy knew what Rosie was trying to do. “I met Monica,” she said, changing the subject. “She’s such a sweet lady.”
“Yes, she is,” Silas agreed. “So, I wanted Rosie to help you with shopping–to help pick some beautiful dresses.” His eyes flicked briefly to Ivy’s gown, and she felt heat on her cheeks.
She didn’t want Rosie tagging along. “I know-
“Im sure lvy knows her way around,” Rosie interrupted, her tone tinged with disdain. “She is a socialite–or at least used to be. She doesn’t need my help.
Ivy ignored Rosie’s dig. “I know my way around good stores.”
Rosie scoffed and Ivy sent her a look.
“Well, I’m sure you do,” Silas said, reaching for Ivy’s thigh. “But Rosie is very skilled in that department. She could help you navigate or even call some stores ahead.” He turned to Rosie. “Right?”
Rosie forced a smile. “I don’t have the time to follow your. Ivy around, but I can call a few places.”
Ivy knew she was lying
“Thank you, Rosie, Silas smiled, his hand rubbing Ivy’s thigh.
Ivy was a little distracted by Silas’s touch, but she managed a smile. “Yes, thank you, Rosie.”
Silas reached for his wallet and pulled out a black card. “Here, shop as much as you like,” he smirked.
Ivy’s eyes widened “Are you sure?”
“Do you think she can handle that?” Roste asked, her voice diminishing. “I mean, do you want to give her that! You just met her.”
“She’s my wife now,” Silas said firmly, his eyes gleaming. “What’s mine is hers.”
Ivy swallowed, concealing her shock as she accepted the card. “Thank you,” she said softly, a shiver running down her spine under hist gaze She turned to Rosie, not hiding her disapproval “And don’t worry–I know how to use it”
Rosie’s composure weaved, a flash of discomfort crossing her face. “Very well then”
13
10:15 AM
Chapter 8
“Bud will follow you, in case you need help, Silas said.
“Who’s Bud?” Ivy asked.
“My bodyguard. He was the one who found you,” Silas explained.
“Oh, Ivy whispered.
She wondered why Silas was treating her like a complete idiot, especially with Rosie still in the room. Did he really think she couldn’t handle shopping on her own? –
Maybe it was to prove something. Or–just maybe it was Rosie’s disdainful expression, the look that screamed she thought Ivy was incapable of anything, but Ivy found herself saying. “You’re so kind, Silas. But I don’t need your bodyguard hovering around me. I don’t want to give the impression that I’m not capable, or worse, a gold digger.especially in this horrible gown.”
A frown creased Silas’s forehead. “A gold digger? Who would dare say that?”
Ivy glanced at Rosie as she spoke. “Oh you know..people.”
Rosie’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away.
I’ll destroy anyone who dares call you that,” Silas said firmly.
Maybe it was desire, stupidity, or desperation to prove something to Rosie, but Ivy walked over to Silas and placed a small kiss on his lips. “I know,” she whispered.
God, the kiss was supposed to be light–meaningless—yet it sent shock waves through her.
Silas didn’t conceal his satisfaction. “Good.”
Ivy felt the heat on her cheeks. “I should be on my way now,” she announced.
“Alright,” Silas said. “Later tonight, we’ll be having a family dinner to properly introduce you to everyone.”
Rosie, who had been silent, suddenly found her voice. “Enjoy your shopping.”
“Oh, I will,” Ivy replied, her voice laced with subtle satisfaction. “Bye,” she said, walking out of the house.
Once outside, Ivy exhaled.
What the hell was that? That was so unlike her. Still, the memory of Rosie’s embarrassed face made her chuckled.
Clutching her bag, Ivy wondered how she’d get to Lily & Styles. She pulled out her phone to order an Uber, but it calling.
Tang
Her aunt was
“Hey Aunt May,” Ivy said, answering
“Ivy dear, how are you?” May asked, concern evident in her tone.
“I’m good.”
“Oh, Ivy, I’m worried about you. So much has happened today, and I’m afraid you might have made decisions on a whim,” May said.
Ivy knew what her aunt meant but wasn’t going to admit she’d made a mistake. Too late now. “I understand, Aunt May, but trust me I’m fully aware of my decisions.”
“So, you want the marriage? Barely three months after Mason?”
Irritation bubbled in Ivy’s chest. “Oh, but it’s line for Mason to move on and impregnate Cheryl?”
May gasped. “He got Cheryl pregnant?”
“He
“He did,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And I don’t want to talk about it yet. This thing with Silas is fake, short, and completely under my control. I’ll come by tomorrow so we can talk”
May went silent for a moment. “Okay. But I told Cole about it”
“Why?”
10:15 A
Chapter 8
“I was worried, I thought maybe you were pressured”
Ivy sighed. “I wasn’t. Don’t worry. I’ll come see you
“Alright. Take care.”
“Bye,” Ivy said, ending the call.
Minutes later, she arrived at Lily & Styles. She smiled at the receptionist, fully aware of the judgmental look the young woman gave her.
“I’m here to shop, please, and I need to see Winnie,” Ivy said with a polite smile.
“Do you have an appointment?” The receptionist asked, eyeing her skeptically.
Winnie was Ivy’s personal shopper back when she frequented the store. She’d never needed to book an appointment. “Just tell Winnie it’s Ivy…” she trailed off, realizing Winnie only knew her as Mrs. Hunter.
The receptionist tapped her phone, but before she could finish, Winnie emerged, impeccably dressed in an emerald gown.
Relief swept over Ivy. “Oh, Winnie! The receptionist was about to call you, I need some clothes.”
Mrs Hunter,” Winnie said, approaching Ivy but passing her. “Or should I say Mrs Hunter–to–be?”
Ivy blinked, startled. “You’re mistaken, Winnie. I’m not Mrs. Hunt-”
“Oh, Winnie! So kind of you!”
Ivy turned toward the voice. It was Cheryl–her back–stabbing best friend.
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