Chapter Ten
1227 Words
“Gabriel…” Isabella whispered, her voice trembling as she turned and saw him.
“Get inside,” he said again, his tone flat and commanding. The tinted glass window of the car began to rise, hiding his expression.
For a moment, Isabella stood still, her heart thudding softly against her chest. She looked around cautiously, as though trying to make sure he wasn’t being followed. The quiet street felt strangely heavy. After confirming that no one was behind her, she slowly reached for the door handle.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she stepped inside the car. The interior smelled of expensive leather and perfume. Everything was polished to perfection, the dashboard gleamed, and the seats felt smoother than anything she had ever sat on.
“Gabriel… whose car is this?” she asked, curiosity and admiration mixing in her tone. “I didn’t see this one before.”
“My boss’s,” he replied coldly, keeping his eyes on the road as he adjusted the rear-view mirror.
“Your boss’s?” she repeated softly. “And… why are you with it?”
“For work purposes,” he said. “I’ll take it back in a few days. By the way, I’m going to pick something from the company I work with before we head home.”
He didn’t look at her while speaking. His voice was distant, his focus somewhere else entirely. Isabella nodded quietly, saying nothing more. She simply admired the car, tracing her eyes along the dashboard and the fine stitching on the seats.
After a moment, Gabriel glanced sideways and noticed the way she was staring at the interior.
“Why are you looking at the car like that?” he asked after observing her for a while.
She hesitated, then smiled faintly. “It’s just… it’s so beautiful,” she murmured. “I never imagined I could ever sit inside a car like this.” Her eyes dropped immediately, her tone carrying both awe and shame.
Gabrie chuckled before he could stop himself. The sound caught her attention.
“What’s funny?” she asked, amused and curious at the same time.
“Nothing,” he replied quickly, fixing his attention back on his phone.
The car was quiet for a few seconds until he broke the silence. “How was your first day at work?” he asked casually.
She sighed. “Bad. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I told you, you don’t have to work,” he said quietly.
She turned toward him, a small frown forming on her face. “Then how do we feed, Gabriel?”
“I’m working,” he replied almost immediately.
“As a chauffeur,” she said before she could stop herself. “Chauffeurs barely earn anything—just peanuts. And you’re riding in a borrowed car that belongs to your boss.”
The words slipped out of her mouth faster than she intended. The moment they left her lips, she regretted them. Her breath caught as she realized she might have gone too far.
Gabriel said nothing. His jaw tightened, and his hands remained steady on the steering wheel. The air inside the car thickened. Isabella looked out of the window, guilt washing over her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered after a few seconds. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
He turned to her briefly and gave a small, calm smile, but said nothing. Then he pulled the car over beside a tall, glass-fronted building.
“I’ll get something inside and come back,” he said, already reaching for the door handle. “Wait here.”
She nodded silently and watched him step out. He walked briskly toward the entrance, his tall frame disappearing through the revolving door.
For a few moments, Isabella sat still, her eyes drifting over the quiet street and the line of cars parked nearby. Curiosity began to itch at her. The building looked far too fancy for a regular office. After a few minutes, she decided to stretch her legs and look around.
When she stepped out of the car, the evening air touched her skin softly. The building in front of her wasn’t just an office—it was a hotel. Its name glowed elegantly across the entrance, and through the glass doors, she could see the reception area lit with golden lights.
She stood there for a while, fascinated by the beauty of the place. The marbled floor inside shone like water, and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling looked like they had captured the stars.
Her curiosity carried her forward. Slowly, she walked through the entrance. The scent of polished wood and perfume filled the air. Everything inside was breathtaking—the front desk, the flower vases, the large mirror reflecting the glow of the lights.
She moved toward a corridor that led to the swimming pool area. The soft sound of running water echoed faintly in the distance. As she walked along the glass-lined corridor, she whispered to herself, “I wish I could work in a place like this.”
Her voice was almost dreamy, her eyes wide with admiration.
Just as she turned a corner, she collided with someone. The impact made her stumble slightly.
“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, looking up to apologize.
But the words froze on her lips when she saw the face before her.
“You again,” the woman said sharply, folding her arms.
Isabella blinked, her heart skipping. It was the same woman she had an argument with that morning at her new workplace—the woman who had insulted her and made her cry before the supervisor came in.
For a second, Isabella couldn’t move. She hadn’t expected to see her again, much less here. The woman’s expression carried both surprise and disdain.
“You work here too?” Isabella asked softly, trying to hide the uneasiness in her voice.
The woman gave a short, mocking laugh. “Work here? How dare you ask me such a question? What are you doing here? Did they already throw you out of that little job of yours?”
Isabella swallowed hard, her hands clasped together. “No,” she said, though her voice betrayed her. “I just came with my husband… he’s inside. He works here.”
The woman’s gaze swept over her from head to toe. “Your husband, that's hilarious. I'm sure he is a cleaner like you.”
“No, my husband is not a cleaner. He is a chauffeur,” Isabella said proudly, raising her chin.
Her voice was firm, though her hands trembled slightly. The young lady before her—tall, elegant, and dressed in a sleek cream gown—let out a mocking laugh that turned a few heads.
“A chauffeur?” she repeated with disbelief. “How adorable.”
Isabella frowned, unsure what was so funny.
The woman turned sharply toward an elderly man in uniform standing by the entrance. “You! Security! Come over here.”
The man hurried over, bowing slightly. “Good day, Miss Aria.”
Aria. The name sounded as soft as her voice was sharp.
“Why would you let the wife of an ordinary chauffeur walk into this company?” Aria asked coldly, her tone cutting through the lobby like ice.
- Writer
