Chapter 65
“Mr. Sterling, haven’t we already apologized? Why must we—” Ethan began, his voice edged with desperation, but Dominic silenced him with a single raised hand.
“The matter of the petition has been settled,” Dominic said, his tone chillingly calm. “Apologies are just words. Disqualification? That’s another matter entirely. In my company, moral failings have consequences.”
His words cut like a razor, delivered with the precision of a man who never wasted a syllable. Ethan felt an icy shiver crawl down his spine. He hadn’t expected the impeccably dressed, composed man before him to wield such ruthless authority. Dominic wasn’t just twisting the knife—he was ensuring the wound never healed.
“Mr. Sterling, surely there’s been a misunderstanding. You can’t just—” Ethan’s protest died in his throat as Dominic gave him a look so dismissive it barely registered as acknowledgment. With a subtle gesture, Dominic summoned security.
Two towering guards appeared as if materializing from the shadows.
“Unauthorized personnel aren’t permitted here,” one rumbled, his voice gravelly.
Before Ethan or Sophia could react, they were swiftly escorted out, their dignity left in tatters behind them. The humiliation burned, a slap they wouldn’t soon forget.
As they disappeared from view, Dominic’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. “I must say, the Scarlet Snake’s reputation for brilliance and beauty is well-earned. Even her companion is… remarkable.”
Olivia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Remarkable? You mean how I nearly lunged at those fools five minutes ago?”
Dominic chuckled softly. “Miss Montgomery, I was referring to your fearless spirit.”
“Silver-tongued devil,” she muttered, shaking her head.
Isabella hadn’t expected Dominic to be so disarmingly grounded after the spectacle they’d just witnessed.
“Now that the petition is behind us,” Dominic suggested smoothly, gesturing toward the penthouse elevator, “why don’t we take a moment to breathe?” The invitation hung between them, unspoken yet undeniable.
The group—now four, flanked by an entourage of guards—ascended to the penthouse, a sanctuary of luxury suspended above the chaos below.
Inside, Isabella sank into the plush embrace of a velvet couch, her gaze lingering on Alexander, who sat across from her.
“I haven’t properly thanked you for stepping in earlier, Mr. Kingsley,” she began, her voice measured.
“Justice demanded it,” Alexander replied, his usual cool demeanor softened by something warmer. His eyes held hers a beat too long, an unspoken current passing between them.
“Miss Sinclair, you’ve stunned everyone. Who knew you were a legend in the world of perfumery?” His tone carried admiration, but beneath it lay curiosity.
Isabella, equally intrigued, felt the weight of her own unanswered questions. She’d found him—the man she’d been searching for. But with so many ears around them, she couldn’t press him about Charisma Company or the clues leading to her mother. Not yet.
Alexander’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Have you considered my proposal? My niece was… intrigued when I mentioned finding her a mentor. Though she still refuses to speak to me.”
His niece, lost in the silent world of her autism, had found solace in pottery. Alexander hoped a teacher might draw her out, even briefly. But there was more beneath his words—his interest in Isabella wasn’t purely professional. Their first encounter at Athton still haunted him, the lingering effects of her poison defying even his most trusted physician’s expertise.
Meanwhile, Dominic’s smile deepened, sensing the undeniable tension between them. Olivia arched a brow at him. “So, Mr. Sterling, is there food here, or are we just admiring the view?”
“Of course,” he murmured. “Shall we raid the kitchen?”
The two exchanged amused glances before slipping away, leaving Isabella and Alexander alone. Olivia shot Isabella a playful wink as she left, as if to say, I see what’s happening here.
Isabella stifled a laugh, recognizing the same flirtatious energy between Olivia and Dominic.
Leaning forward slightly, Isabella fixed Alexander with a probing gaze. “You know, I’m far more curious about how you mastered the art of Charisma perfume than I am about pottery lessons, Mr. Kingsley.”
Alexander didn’t bristle at the shift in topic. Instead, he smiled—genuine, unguarded. “My grandmother taught me.”
“Is she… still alive?” Isabella’s voice was steady, but determination flickered beneath her words. She’d searched too long to give up now.
“If you’re hoping to meet her, I’m afraid it’s too late,” Alexander replied, his calm belying the weight of his words. “She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s six months ago. Most of her memories are gone now. She’s in a nursing home.”
Disappointment lanced through Isabella, but she kept her expression neutral. “What a loss. I’ve always wanted to meet her—perfume is my passion. It seems that dream is slipping away.”
Alexander’s eyes darkened, his tone shifting subtly. “Most who ask to see her now only want her fortune—or her demise.”
His grandmother, Cassandra Kingsley, had been a legend. But her illness had made her vulnerable, and vultures circled. Some had even tried to kidnap her.
“As things stand,” he continued, “only family is permitted to visit.”
Isabella’s careful probing hadn’t escaped Alexander’s notice. He sensed there was more beneath her questions—secrets woven into every word.
With a faint smile, Isabella extended her hand. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Kingsley. As your niece’s mentor, I suppose I’m almost family now. Perhaps one day, I’ll have the chance to speak with your grandmother in a lucid moment.”
