Chapter 9

In the end, I confessed everything to Lana.

Starting from our first encounter when she saved me to the moment she kissed me at her house. But I didn't tell everything at the restaurant; I shared some when we were already home.

Lana helped me dry my hair as I applied makeup. There was still half an hour left before Mr. Shaw picked me up.

"I swear, Nicholas Shaw really likes you, Ella," Lana looked at me through the mirror while drying my hair.

"He already has a girlfriend, Lana," I muttered with a hint of annoyance. Her name is Alice, and she's stunningly beautiful. Thinking about how they spoke that afternoon made me slightly jealous.

"Maybe that woman isn't his girlfriend. Why don't you ask him directly?"

"Because am I not crazy enough? Mr. Shaw is just—" What, Ella? I thought to myself with frustration. "Just a client."

"Oh really? Do you kiss all your clients?"

My face reddened a bit at her question. "Lana!"

Lana turned off her hairdryer when my hair was dry. "What will you wear tonight?" she asked, scanning my room, her eyes stopping at my bed.

"You'll wear that?" she pointed, wrinkling her nose.

I had already prepared my outfit on my bed: a black pencil skirt and a green chiffon blouse.

"We're just going to have dinner," I replied, shrugging.

She responded by rolling her eyes, "Do you think Nicholas Shaw invites all his employees to dinner whenever he wants to show gratitude? I have something in my closet that suits you." She grabbed my hand, pulling me to her room.

Our rooms were equally spacious, but Lana's was messier than mine. She stood in front of her large wardrobe and opened it. Rows of dresses hung throughout most of her closet.

"Lana... this really isn't necessary," I protested as I dropped onto her bed.

"It's absolutely necessary, Ella. For a man like Nicholas Shaw, you have to prepare your best ammunition." She replied without looking at me, her hands busy sorting through her dresses.

I just snorted at her response.

"This! I think this dress suits you; I've only worn it once." Lana took out a maroon velvet dress. The dress was knee-length, and Lana was right—I inexplicably liked it. Maybe because of its simple yet elegant design. I tried the dress in front of the mirror, admiring my silhouette.

"Your time is only 20 minutes left, Ella. And you're not finished with your makeup yet." She grumbled, walking to her makeup table. "Sit here."

"Okay, okay..." I stood up from her bed and walked to the chair in front of her dressing table.

Lana was more experienced with makeup than I was; she finished my makeup in just 10 minutes. Well, I had to admit she did it better than me. The lipstick I wore was a few shades brighter than the maroon dress, the rest leaning towards a natural look. Lana applied a natural brown eyeshadow that made my amber eyes stand out.

"Whoa... my face looks different," I mumbled in front of the mirror.

Lana folded her hands across her chest, looking at my face proudly. "You look equally beautiful with or without makeup, Ella." She closed her makeup box and handed me the dress. "I'll be on guard, and you change. Don't take too long, okay?"

"Yes, Ma'am." But Lana had already left her room before hearing my answer. I changed into Lana's dress while looking at my reflection in the mirror. My size and Lana's were almost the same; I was just a bit fuller than her. Luckily, the dress hugged my body perfectly. My hands traced the soft velvet from my waist to my hips. I was still fascinated, gazing at my reflection in the mirror. Tonight, I let my slightly wavy auburn hair fall over my exposed shoulders.

I faintly heard Lana talking to someone. Is he here?

I checked the clock in Lana's room, showing exactly 7 o'clock. It seemed like Nicholas Shaw was never late.

I put on my heels and grabbed the small bag Lana had placed near the door earlier. I took a deep breath before opening Lana's door, then walked out.

Nicholas was still standing near our open apartment door, chatting with Lana, occasionally smiling at her. His jaw, which was slightly stubbled in the afternoon, was now cleanly shaved. He wore a white shirt and jeans—this was the first time I saw him in jeans. One of his hands held his black suit.

This was also the first time I saw his dark brown hair not perfectly combed back but falling naturally and slightly messy. I preferred it this way—more casual and not as rigid as usual.

Uh-oh. I glanced down at the dress I was wearing and looked back at him. Was I overdressed?

For a moment, I considered going back to Lana's room and changing into jeans and a blouse. But my plan failed when Mr. Shaw turned to look at me, freezing in his place.

"Hey..." I greeted him, a bit shy. Nicholas didn't respond; his dark blue eyes kept staring at me without blinking. Next to him, Lana was smiling broadly.

"Do I look overdressed? I can change my clothes—"

Finally, he blinked slowly. "No need. You look... perfect."

"Oh... okay." I nodded slightly, and we continued to gaze at each other until Lana finally cleared her throat to break the silence.

"Have a great time," Lana said with her wide smile.

I walked towards them, and Mr. Shaw suddenly extended his hand to me. "Are you ready?" he asked with his deep baritone voice. His voice made my knees slightly weak.

I just nodded at him before taking his hand. "I'll return Miss Heather in three hours, Miss Morrel."

"Okay, you can return her anytime," Lana replied, but her eyes were on our hands before finally looking at me with a gaze that seemed to say, 'I told you... he likes you!' Lana only escorted us to the front door of the apartment.

Silence engulfed us as we walked out of the apartment. I never realized how large Mr. Shaw's hands were; he held my hand effortlessly. His warmth spread through my body, making my stomach feel like it was filled with fluttering butterflies. Damn butterflies.

The scent of his expensive aftershave and perfume lingered faintly. I didn't know much about men's cologne, but I liked the scent of Mr. Shaw's perfume. It was unlike Oliver's or other men's scents that were usually a bit sharp.

We walked towards my apartment's basement. For a moment, I thought Eric and his SUV were waiting for us, but my assumption was wrong when Mr. Shaw led me to a black sedan parked there. I thought he might have flown to San Francisco. Did he drive from Manhattan?

One of my hands glided over the soft seat as I sat down; I was willing to bet that the car's interior was genuine leather. Mr. Shaw got in next to me and started the car. It was the first time I saw him driving.

"Did you drive from Manhattan?" I couldn't help asking. He glanced at me and then back to the road. "No, I flew. This is Greg's car."

Oh.

"Is he here in San Francisco too?"

"Yeah, he arrived a couple of days ago." Mr. Shaw replied while looking at me through the rearview mirror. I hadn't noticed that we were heading towards the western part of San Francisco. As far as I knew, this area was a luxurious residential area atop hills and a small forest, Forest Hill.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at a house or rather a villa located at the top of Forest Hill. This house was the only building here; the nearest neighbor was a kilometer away. Like the other houses we passed, this place was exceptionally luxurious. Modern architecture defined every inch of this house, with dominating large glass windows. I wondered how many people and how much time it took to clean those glass windows.

Mr. Shaw parked the car in the spacious yard. Two other cars were parked next to us. One was a black Porsche with white stripes in the middle, and the other was a red Bugatti. If the three of them were side by side like this, anyone passing by might think this was a luxury car showroom.

I thought he invited me for a private dinner, but it seemed we would be dining with others. Mr. Shaw turned off the engine, but his hands still gripped the steering wheel. Although it was a bit dark, the garden lights illuminated the car, and I could still see him clearly.

His gaze was fixed straight ahead, no expression on his face. Seeing him up close, my hand itched to touch his slightly messy hair.

"Eleanor, there's something I want to ask you directly." He muttered suddenly.

I turned to him automatically. "Oh... What is it?"

"Do you like Greg?" His voice slightly changed from before. "I just want to make sure."

Make sure? I looked at him with a bit of surprise. "I... don't know Mr. Gregory Shaw well. Although he feels somewhat familiar, maybe I've seen him somewhere. But no, I don't like him—I mean, I don't like him in that way. I just consider him as a client. A former client." I trailed off as my words started to get jumbled.

The expression on his face softened a bit. "What about me?" his baritone voice whispered, making my stomach feel like jelly. His dark blue eyes locked onto mine. He tilted one corner of his mouth upward after seeing my nervous expression. Suddenly, I wanted to trace his arrogant jawline with my fingers.

"Well, you are..." I could feel the atmosphere between us changing dramatically, as if there were invisible electric vibrations between us right now. His eyes were still locking onto mine.

"You are..." Without realizing it, my voice became slightly husky. I didn't need to continue my sentence because the next second, Mr. Shaw leaned towards me, his right hand sliding through my hair before cupping the back of my neck. Our faces were now only inches apart, and his mint-scented breath fanned my cheek.

"I would do anything right now to be able to kiss you." He whispered with a slightly restrained voice. For a moment, he just looked at my face, and there was something in his eyes that made it impossible for me to look away and made my heart beat irregularly in my chest.

In that moment, I realized I had fallen in love with Nicholas Shaw.

Before I could deny my own thoughts, his face got closer to mine, and he kissed me slowly.

His soft and slightly wet lips turned my brain into jelly. I couldn't think of anything after that; I couldn't even remember my own name.

I could feel his erratic heartbeat through my hands placed on his chest. One of Mr. Shaw's hands cupped my face, while his other hand rested on the back of my neck. His thumb gently stroked my cheekbone as he kissed me, making every place his fingers touched on my skin more sensitive than before. Slowly, my breathing became heavier.

"Dangerous," he whispered in my ear, his warm breath tickling me after I pulled away to take a breath.

"What's wrong?" I asked a bit confused with my slightly breathless state. I could feel him smiling as he listened to me.

"You are very, very dangerous for me." Nicholas kissed me again, this time not as long as before. He pulled away and looked at me with his shining eyes in the darkness. His right hand slid a strand of my hair behind my ear gently. "You look incredibly beautiful tonight, Eleanor. I want to take you home and hide you from everyone. Keep you for myself."

I closed my eyes as his fingers traced my face slowly, then down to my jaw. He sighed before pulling his hand away from me, as if regretting having to stop. "I think we've been waited for."