Paper Rings (English)

Chapter 19

“Go change,” her fingertips remained in his hair, making Sander gulp. Like a man trapped in a spell, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “I’ll make lunch in thirty to forty-five minutes.” 

Her mocking gaze brought a smirk to his lips. With no intention of backing down from her challenge, he opted to take an offensive stance and dared to lean closer. As their faces aligned with one another, he saw a hint of hesitation starting to stir in her visage. 

Rather than the feeling of amusement that he would often feel whenever she got flustered, the man felt helpless as his throat continued to dry up.

“You know that this is a dangerous game to play, right?” He grabbed the lady’s hand and gently removed it from the strands of his hair. “Hmm? Rosey?” 

In a snap, a flush crept across Primrose’s face. She was about to take her hand back when his grip tightened on her wrist. Her chest caved in, diminishing all signs of earlier confidence. 

“Y-you’re right. I have a meeting in a bit. I should go and get ready.” 

Despite her admission of defeat, Messi Sander Mortel didn’t let go. Their gazes remained soft but firm. Although she was obviously flustered with the very little distance they currently have, there wasn’t much resistance coming from her. 

“You are crossing the line,” she said. Her voice slightly trembled as his fingertips traveled from her sharp jawline to her reddening ear. “You’re the one who said you wouldn’t do anything not agreed upon between us.” 

He loosened his grip on her wrist, but still with eyes glossing over her. “We don’t need to make a fine print, do we?” His lips parted for some time until it formed into a small smile. “Do you have any objections?” 

“Depends on what terms we’re talking about.” 

His shirt was drenched, but there was a strange and warm sensation engulfing his body. Her breathing became music to his ears, making him lightheaded and overly aware at the same time. 

He inclined his face closer to hers, erasing all the gap between them. “This closeness? Does it bother you?”

Primrose couldn’t answer him right away. When she lowered her gaze, he gently lifted her chin to keep her within his fiery eyes. 

Her slight shivers as his mouth touched her soft lips brought the waves of pleasure his body has been aching for. 

Was he always this impatient? He knew he wasn’t—but something about all the chaos these past few weeks made him too conscious about his feelings. 

“Sir—” Tyler’s rushing voice and the footsteps emerging from the door made them turn away from each other almost immediately. “A-apologies, I just saw smoke coming out of the kitchen window, so I thought—”

Sander cleared his throat. Upon looking up at the butler’s face, he could tell in an instant what he saw. His wife, on the other hand, was palming her face in embarrassment. 

He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head in defeat. “Yes, please clean this all up. I messed up, and I think the cooking range is broken.” 

“Y-yes, sir.” 

“You should go prepare for your meeting,” he exclaimed as soon as Primrose glanced at him. “Let’s continue this conversation later.” 

Her footsteps were as fast as lightning as she strode to the bedroom. The moment the door shut behind her, she held a hand to her chest and heaved a long sigh. She squeezed her eyelids tightly, attempting to shake off the mental fuzziness in her system. 

“Let’s continue this conversation later.” Those words rang loudly at the back of her mind as her heart hammered inside her ribcage. 

“What the hell does that mean?” she mumbled with both palms cupping her flushed cheeks. Unknowingly, her fingers ran through her lips, reminding her of the unexpected exchange that happened between them. “Why didn’t you object, Primrose? Why the hell did you let him kiss you—” she paused and scratched her thick-set eyebrows. “Wait. Did I kiss him back?” 

She backed away from the door and sat at the feet of the bed. After some vigorous head shaking, the lady nodded as if convincing herself from a silent narrative. 

“Calm down, Rosey. Keep it cool. It’s just a kiss,” she clamped her hands together on her lap. “It’s not the first time you two kissed. It’s not a big deal.” 

With that chant, Primrose Dia was able to hypnotize herself into preparing for her upcoming meeting. In a few minutes, she managed to keep herself together and decided to think about it later. Besides, whether she liked it or not, there was no way she could avoid Sander. They’re living under one roof, for heaven’s sake!

An hour passed, and before she knew it, she was already on a one-on-one video conference with the Museum Director that Eliza begged her to meet. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Medea. I’m Cecilia Rach, Winter Museum’s Head Director.” 

She has a small nose—that was the first thought that crossed her mind when the image of the woman appeared on the screen. 

“Same here, Ms. Cecilia. And please, just call me Primrose or Rosey. I don’t feel natural conversing with my painter pseudonym.” 

“Ah, I see.” A smile spread through her bow-like lips. “Thank you for making time to talk with me, Primrose. I know this whole pandemic situation has been tiring everyone out, but I heard so much about you from Eliza and Pollen. It made me eager to connect with you.” 

“Oh, no. It’s my pleasure that you took an interest in my works.” She put her hair behind an ear and bit her lower lip. “However, I believe I already gave Eliza an answer about the offer that Winter Galleria wants to give me.” 

“Yes,” Cecilia sighed and intertwined her fingers under her chin. “I also heard that you got married and you’re planning to move to another country. Actually, it was all over the news last week. So, congratulations.”

"T-thanks."

She nodded her head and managed to fake a smile. The past week was a bit stressful for her because of that. Due to the pandemic outbreak, she and Sander decided to delay the news of their wedding as they have no means to get out of the country. 

While the Mortel Malls President ensured that the photos from the media present on their wedding day wouldn’t be released, it didn’t go according to plan. 

Her phone rang every minute with interview invitations and messages from her relatives and friends. It was a whole kind of mess if you ask her. 

“How was married life? I’m sure you’re over the moon right now.” 

The light sarcasm in the voice of the Winter Galleria’s director made her brows furrowed. She wasn't quite sure, but there was a slight grim in her visage as well. 

“Over the moon?” she repeated her words. 

“Ah, no. I mean,” the clouding in Cecilia’s gaze disappeared and was replaced by a smile. “I’m sure you’re having a great time. You’re a new bride, after all. It’s just a shame you couldn’t go anywhere for your honeymoon with your husband.” 

“Y-yeah,” she managed to say. "We can always rebook our migration, anyway."

“Speaking of that," the woman paused as if hesitating to speak again. "Considering what has been going on with the pandemic, the travel restrictions could take a year. Don't you have any change of heart about our resident artist job offer?"

It was a query she already expected, and she couldn't say that it didn't cross her mind. While in deep thoughts, she jutted her chin and pressed her lips into a thin line. 

"It's hard for me to answer that question now. I'm sorry."

Cecilia shook her head and waved her hand mid-air. "No, it's fine. I understand. After all, you'll need to discuss this with Sander. I'm sure he wouldn't like it if you decide rashly."

Her casual mention of her husband's name put a sour taste in her mouth. Despite her eyebrows gathering in, the lady on her screen didn't give a response to the obvious curiosity contained in her pensive expression. 

"Anyhow, I have another proposal to offer. That’s why I asked Eliza to set me a meeting with you," Cecilia tried to change the topic to dispel the awkwardness in the air. 

"Oh, sure. I'm all ears."

"You see—" the following words became incomprehensible as the connection of the call got disrupted. Even the image of the Winter Galleria's director on the laptop screen became blurred. 

"Give me a minute. I think I have a bad reception here."

With that, she unplugged the laptop and brought it with her as she stepped out of the room. The quality of the video call only got better as she reached the living room. 

"Hello? Can you hear me?" Cecilia asked. 

"Yes, yes. My apologies." She sat down on the sofa and sighed. "The internet reception was bad inside the room, so I moved to the living room."

“Ah, it still looks the same.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“N-nothing,” the Museum Director exclaimed. “As I was saying, I would like to invite you to our virtual fundraising. Many of our events have been canceled, but we wanted to keep the industry alive. All the proceeds of the fundraiser will go to struggling artists due to the recent pandemic.” 

“Oh, that’s a great initiative. How can I help?” Primrose inquired. 

“It’ll be an auction of new art pieces from known personalities,” Cecilia licked her lips. “So I was wondering if you and your husband can participate in this?” 

“My husband?” Her thoughts freeze as she felt a slight tightening in her stomach. “You want my husband to participate in this, too?” 

“Only if you want to. As you know, you two are a hot topic nowadays. The fundraising auction will gain more attention if—” The words from Cecilia’s mouth halted, and her eyes twinkled a hint of delight. “Ah, perfect timing.” 

Primrose turned her head behind, where the woman’s gaze was pinned. Emerging from the study was her husband, Messi Sander Mortel. He stood frozen while staring at her laptop screen. From his parted lips up to his narrowing eyes, she could tell something was not right. 

“Long time no see, Waddles.”