Chapter 42: "D'Ace Is Dead"
1500 Words
Chapter 42: “D'Ace Is Dead"
STELLA
It's been a day since graduation.
I woke up early as usual, but the only difference between today and every other day was that I was a fashion academy graduate. With a degree from one of the most prestigious fashion academies.
I was still processing every next move, and the last two months, I'd spent them on thorough thinking and finalizing the next steps to take.
My plans included one thing I never thought would actually happen—moving out.
I'd left Rhys at the ceremony last night, but as I'd predicted, he didn't come after me.
I was done with the mixed signals. Unclear feelings. Whatever it was that had happened between us.
Maybe a fresh start was all I needed to feel like the woman I'd actually become again. It was hard… but I knew I could do it.
I stepped outside the guesthouse, a large duffel bag hung over my shoulder—it had his three dresses inside. The purple one I'd worn last night. The Red. And the white one.
My phone rang again before I left the guesthouse, but I ignored it.
Rebekah, my little sister.
My peace—it was the only thing that mattered even though everything seemed unclear.
I didn't want any sort of connection back with her or my parents. I was done and no matter how many times I'd said it without actually being done, this time was different.
I was headed to Rhys's office—A.D Group of Businesses.
I couldn't afford to walk into his house. I didn't want any form of contact with Sophia—while he was away, I'd had enough of her questions and silly mind tricks.
I eventually got to know who took that video of Dylan and me.
It was her—Sophia Niles.
Sophia Niles, the b***h-ass daughter of Niles Matt, and the ‘fiancée’ of the man I couldn't even tell if I actually hated or not.
***
I boarded a bus and this time, I was a bit worried I couldn't feel eyes on me like I used to.
Before now, whenever I took the public transport, I used to catch a few people staring at me or gossiping about me to my hearing.
Today was different. These freaking Londoners didn't seem to care anymore. And I was so pleased because I'd stopped caring, long before now.
I got to the company and I walked in.
Fuck—
I'd barely taken three steps towards the receptionist when I bumped into someone.
“Oh! I'm so sorry," I blurted, bowing my head as low as I could.
“It's okay. It's okay" He bent, picking his files from the ground.
I bent to help him pick up his files from the floor.
He didn't look mad. “What's your name?" He asked, his lips tucking to the corner as if he'd seen me before.
It was out of the blue.
My lashes fluttered.
“Uh…” Why did I forget my name at such a serious moment?
“Stella." I accompanied my abrupt answer with a small smile pulling on my lips. “Stella Rosa Scott"
He didn't smile. Didn't flinch. Didn't give a reaction.
“Why are you here?" He asked considerately. If his tone went higher than it was, I would have honestly thought otherwise.
“Um…I'm here to see the CEO. Rhy—” I bit his name back.
This guy was probably a worker here, so I needed to add some respect to the CEO’s f*****g name.
"Mr. Rhys Adrian. I have something to give him”
The words fell from my lips and my chest tightened.
I was probably going to get kicked out, so I prepared myself for whatever.
"Follow me, Miss”
My eyes lit. Follow?
Just like that?
No protocols? No ‘come back later’? Nothing?
I followed him and he actually took me to Rhys's office.
Damn!
I was at the door when he turned, stretching forward for a handshake.
“I'm Lewis, Mr. Rhys's personal assistant and it's nice to meet you in person, Miss Stella"
He smiled at each word like he was happy to talk to me.
I walked into the office.
It wasn't a wrong room—it was the exact kind I'd imagined he would own.
Rhys was in it. Owning it like he owned every other thing he had ever come across.
In the exact dark colors, he would never trade for anything.
His chair at the other side of his executive table, was turned towards the wall behind him.
From his posture, he was taking a nap—I could tell.
“What, Lewis?" His voice dragged out of his chest.
I waited, observing the whole room before I moved closer—close enough to be intoxicated by the ridiculously addictive scent of his cologne.
“I stopped by to drop the dresses like I said I would…” I hadn't finished my sentence when he turned abruptly.
"Stella,” My name, leaving his lips too suddenly, was the fastest thing I'd ever seen him do. Too sudden.
"Here, Mr. Rhys Adrian.” I dropped the duffel bag on the table before him.
“Enjoy your sleep, Rhys"
“I wasn't sleeping, Stella. And I wasn't ignoring you—" He cared to explain, probably because he thought I got the wrong idea.
“Oh! I see," I said, backing away.
He probably noticed I was about to leave. “Don't go,” He called out. "Stay with me. I'm begging" He added.
How could he not acknowledge the dresses I returned?
I stopped, eyes on him.
“Sit, Blaze." His eyes pierced through me—dark, restrained. “Please,"
I sat. I wasn't breaking my own rules for him, right?
He stood from his chair, turning around the table till he was at the other side—the chair reserved for visitors or guests.
The tension thickened. My belly rumbled with a beat, at each inch he consumed.
“I heard you're moving out, Blaze." I wasn't looking at him, but he was—and he wasn't looking at my damn face. I could swear it.
“Blaze," His rough voice always crawled its way up my spine.
“Don't touch me," I yanked my face away from his touch—cold, ruining, addictive.
He said nothing, his hands still hung mid-air. He f*****g ran his tongue over his lips.
Why did he look so freaking goo—?
Bang.
A knock on the door.
My eyes shot out.
“Who's there?" I mouthed, my eyes glaring like I didn't know an office like this would definitely be soundproof.
‘Boss,’ I heard the knock on the door.
“They're my boys. Should I let them in?"
God. I'd flung up from my seat. What did he mean by ‘boys’?
“Your friends are here?"
He looked undisturbed. The next knock sounded impatient and I knew they'd walk in anytime.
The door opened but, it I’d slipped beneath his wide mahogany desk, knees pressing against the polished wood, the scent of leather and his cologne trapping me in a dangerous little pocket of secrecy.
He was sitting before me, in his executive chair, pretending like nothing happened.
I could see his face having a small amused smile like I was a freaking comedian!!
God. This space was bone-shrinking. Sweat formed beads on my forehead despite the room-level air conditioner.
I didn't know why I hid, but what would his friends think when they saw me in his office?
Did they know about me?
What would the narrative be?
“D’Ace," One of them started, and I heard him correct them.
"It's Rhys, Mario” God. Why did he sound so authoritative? Like they were his actual ‘boys’?
"There's something you must see, D’’A—”
They passed something on to the top of the table, and he drew closer to the table as someone leaned over.
They had coded conversations and I could grab nothing.
Why was Rhys talking off point? Was it that he didn't want them to talk about it?
He adjusted in his seat, his hand reaching to me underneath the table.
It felt like a basic instinct when I grabbed it and he brushed his tongue over the back of my palm.
God. I couldn't keep panting panting for air under his stupid executive table.
“You can leave, Hardy"Thankfully, he noticed how uncomfortable I was.
There were two, not one. Hardy. Mario.
But D’Ace?
He glared at them slightly, not in the obvious way but they seemed to understand almost immediately.
D’Ace.
I could sense the secrecy in the atmosphere, how he didn't want to talk about something that involved them calling him “D’Ace".
Was it because of me?
Or did it have something personal to do with him?
It rang in my head until they excused the room.
- Writer
