CHAPTER005
1244 Words
Eleanor's Point of View
Edmund was unnerving; his smile unnerved me further still. "Your wish is my command. Someone will bring your things directly to your room where you can express any frustration that arises, whether that be screaming, crying, punching walls—whatever comes. Just get it out."
I was alone again after his departure.
I wished I could get off this ship. The Majestic Albion felt more like an endless sea than an enjoyable escape, with no shore in sight and no way off. I felt confined and helpless onboard; there seemed no escape route for me.
"He's giving me whiplash," Freya's voice resonated in my head. From one second to the next, he could be harsh or sweet before abruptly shifting back again. ** There was a brief silence as Freya spoke. But damn, did that guy smell nice?**
"Not helping," I replied with discontent while grunting.
Edmund kept his word and delivered my luggage, including new canvases and paintings.
So I painted.
I let all my emotions pour onto those canvases—rage, betrayal, and heartbreak—with brushstrokes rawer than usual and different from my usual style, as though ripping open an injury and allowing its bloody trail to flow onto canvas. Amazingly enough, what I saw made me happy; perhaps this was a new beginning.
As soon as I stepped onto the deck, I avoided everyone and sought out the quietest corner away from laughter and music—and either immersed myself in my book or painted an ocean landscape.
Days passed. I never saw Harrison or Edmund again. Perhaps they had found shelter aboard some passing yacht, or perhaps they hid out in some penthouse suite, both avoiding me equally I avoided them—either way, I wasn't bothered by their absences.
Reading, painting, and eating—occasionally when Freya prodded me—were my primary activities up until the final day of our trip.
The knock on my door was sharp and punctuated the silence. I groaned inwardly as I placed my half-packed suitcase aside before opening it to receive its owner.
Miss, this is your final bill and can be settled through either our app or at the Guest Relations Counter on the first level. "Thank you so much for sailing with us; we hope it was an unforgettable experience!"
I took out my slip and barely glanced at it; my spending had been minimal due to being cautious—all in all, not much had changed in terms of finances or spending.
My stomach lurched as the memory surfaced of that credit card my parents had sent before I left, the one without any limits or fees and that Harrison had abruptly taken from me without question.
"Surely this must be some mistake, as I barely spent any money!"
"If you would like an itemized receipt or need help disputing any charges, the Guest Relations Counter can assist." And with that, he left.
My fingers crumpled around the paper as I searched for ways out. After all, it wasn't my money, nor was I responsible for this situation.
At first, there seemed to be only one way of finding out.
When I tried to argue my case at the counter, the woman barely glanced my way as I attempted to explain that my charges were made on your account. She responded, "Ma'am, as you were told earlier, they have been removed now".
"But these bar tabs and boutique charges—I barely touched my account!" I took her closer, pushing the paper closer in her direction. There has to be security footage. You'll see it wasn't me.
She looked unconvinced. "These purchases were made using your card; according to our policy, you are liable for them."
My throat tightened as I said, "I don't have this kind of money". My words came out with difficulty, sounding raw and incoherent.
She exhaled sharply, clearly at her limit of patience. "If you would like to discuss alternative options with my supervisor," she suggested, before walking off into another back office and exiting.
As I waited patiently, my fingers drummed against the counter while my heart raced with anticipation.
"Follow me," she announced shortly thereafter. "Leave these. Come with me."
As soon as I had finished packing my bag, she led me towards a private elevator adorned with polished silver doors that mirrored back my nervous expressions.
"Take it up to the top floor—our owner would like to meet with you there!"
"Where was I?
The doors slid open, revealing one button for me to press before my hand reached over and pressed it instead.
My ears popped as the elevator rose higher until, finally, it stopped and opened with a gentle click of its doors.
The office was like something from a dream: deep walnut bookshelves lined the walls and were filled with leather-bound books and ornate sculptures; comfortable chairs sat before an enormous walnut bureau; floor-to-ceiling windows provided views over an endless stretch of sea.
Edmund was sitting behind his desk, leaning back in an ebony Chesterfield chair.
"Who?" He grinned broadly. "You seem surprised."
"I--" My mouth opened and closed multiple times, but no sound could come out.
"Come on, Eleanor." He waved his hand lazily.
Freya frowned. "This is very troubling," she declared.
"Why am I here?" was all I could ask myself as I stood stiffly before my desk.
"Why am I telling you this?" Because you owe me quite an impressive sum.
"I--" My fingers fumbled around in my bag until they found it—the ring. Gently, I set it down on the desk. "Take this. Maybe it can cover some of it."
His jaw tightened as he picked up and rolled the ring between his fingers before placing it with a soft clink back onto its pedestal.
"No," I replied shakily and asked, unsure of my next move, how much my bill was.
His laugh was gentle yet amused: "More than you can afford."
Tears stung my eyes; this was the second time in front of this man I had broken down in tears, letting my world crumble as he watched on in horror.
As I quickly wiped my face, my gaze fell upon the vast ocean beyond the window. If I jumped, would it even matter?
Edmund said in a soft yet firm voice, "Don't!" He asked them to consider their families—what would happen without you there to provide assistance?
"What, do you find this funny?" I clenched my fists tightly.
His lips twitched slightly as he answered, "No. I find it fascinating."
Before I could stop it, my throat let out a low growl that surprised him but did not make him appear offended; instead, he seemed intrigued and open-minded about my story.
He approached my desk slowly, stopping close enough that I could detect an invisible trace of his cologne. He took my hand with firm, gripping fingers, lifting my ring.
Slowly and gently, he slipped it onto my finger.
Perfect fit.
I stared at both, then asked, "What are you doing?" "Nothing."
He smiled. "Solving your problem."
"What?" His voice became soft yet menacing as he offered, "Marry me and give birth to one of my children—it will take care of your debt."
"Surely you cannot be serious," I said.
He deepened his smile. "Oh, but I am."
Freya's voice hummed low in my head. This just got interesting.
- Writer
