Chapter 78
When Isabella and Amelia finished their session, Alexander handed Isabella a silk handkerchief.
“Thank you for your patience today, Miss Sinclair,” he said, his voice low and appreciative. “Working with children requires a special kind of endurance.”
Even the smallest progress felt like a victory.
Isabella accepted the handkerchief, dabbing at the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her fingers brushed over the embroidered crest, and she smirked. “This is a collector’s item, isn’t it? You’d need serious influence to get one. Last I checked, these go for about three grand.”
Alexander arched a brow, impressed. “Sharp eye, Miss Sinclair. You’re quite the connoisseur.”
“I just did some browsing online,” she replied airily, then flashed him a teasing grin. “But it seems you’ve been keeping secrets, Mr. Kingsley.”
He shrugged. “A business associate gifted it. Nothing worth fussing over.”
Their playful exchange eased the tension between them, and Alexander found himself intrigued by her sharp wit.
After the lesson, he walked her out, pausing to instruct the butler. “Amelia spent hours sculpting today. Make sure she gets a snack—she burns energy quickly.”
As Isabella descended the stairs, she took in the villa. Nestled behind dense woods, it was one of the private residences on the Kingsley estate, designed with understated elegance. The space radiated warmth, filled with personal touches—a floor-to-ceiling glass case displaying an exquisite collection of rare perfumes, some discontinued masterpieces from legendary perfumers.
Overhearing Alexander’s conversation with the butler, Isabella’s lips quirked in amusement. The media painted him as ruthless, yet here he was, fussing over a child’s snack time.
“Mr. Kingsley, you don’t need to escort me further,” she said, turning to him. “I can manage.”
But as she turned, her gaze snagged on something—the pendant around his neck. He wore a simple white shirt, the top button undone, revealing a silver chain. The pendant, barely visible, bore an intricate design: two serpents entwined.
It was eerily similar to a bracelet her mother had once owned.
“I’m not just seeing you off, Miss Sinclair,” Alexander said, oblivious to her scrutiny. His tone turned serious. “For years, I’ve suffered from debilitating migraines. Countless doctors, no answers.”
Her expression shifted slightly as he continued, “The only relief I’ve found comes from your perfume. The one you crafted by hand. It helps me sleep. I’ve been searching for Scarlet Serpent for years—never imagined the perfumer would be standing right in front of me.”
Alexander chuckled, recalling their first meeting—how she’d kept a straight face while bluffing. He’d caught the scent of her perfume then, never guessing it would lead him here.
“Who knew you had such a discerning nose, Mr. Kingsley?” Isabella teased lightly. “Most people chase brand names, but you chase the artist.” She hadn’t expected this twist, but knowing her creation eased his pain was unexpectedly gratifying.
“I’d like to formally invite you to join Charisma,” he said, his gaze steady. “With your talent, we could redefine the industry. And of course, I’d compensate you generously for your work.”
The offer was tempting. Charisma was already a powerhouse, its stock soaring thanks to Alexander’s influence. Partnering with him would be mutually beneficial—but for him, her presence was more than just business.
“Mr. Kingsley,” Isabella laughed softly, “we’ve crossed paths enough times that I’d like to think we’re friends. If my perfume helps you, that’s payment enough.”
His lips curved in a smirk as he gestured to her necklace. “Then why complicate things? I’m rather fond of your pendant. Consider it my fee.”
