Love By Design

Chapter 35

After the visit to the Imperial Boutique, August appeared even more affronted. I refrained from discussing it during the journey back to The Maisonette and he retreated to his room almost immediately, claiming he needed to sleep off a headache before dinner so I spent the rest of the afternoon organising the notes I took at the boutique.

By the time it was 7 PM, I assumed we’d be spending the evening in the suite so I was surprised when August quietly knocked on my door, reminding me to start getting ready for our dinner reservation at The Edelweiss.

Changing into a black slip dress and sling-back heels with a long black cardigan to match, it’s the most simple outfit I packed for the trip. All black with no glitter, no laces, no intricate fastenings or over-the-top embellishments.

There’s an almost uneasy tension in the air as we meet in the living room. He doesn’t comment on my clothes or the fact that our outfits are, once again, matching. Like me, August is dressed in all black, with his turtleneck tucked into slim-fit trousers, sleeves rolled up, and sporting black loafers.

He hardly makes conversation, seemingly deep in his own thoughts as we call a taxi and wait. The entire car journey to the restaurant was quiet. Despite my attempts to steer the conversation, his responses were curt and it was clear to me that he was in no mood to engage in any discussions.

By the time we reached The Edelweiss, it’s apparent that August’s mood isn’t going to improve. He hasn’t said more than a sentence since leaving the hotel, his eyebrows in a perpetual knot.

“If you’re not feeling well, we don’t have to stay,” I say to August as the waiters guide us through the restaurant. “We can order room service again like last night, I don’t mind.”

Our table is further out from the main dining space which I’m thankful for as the area is heavily decorated in sconces and pendant lights. The waiter seats us in a private dining space by the window on the second floor with a gorgeous view of the Cionne night sky.

“We’re already here,” He turns to me, brows furrowing. “If you didn’t want to go out for dinner, you should have said something earlier.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I explain, hastily. “I want to be out for dinner. I just thought you might still be feeling unwell after earlier.”

“I told you,” He bristles. “I’m fine.”

The dismissive tone in August’s voice makes my stomach sink. His mood is still off and I can’t help but also be affected by it.

We sit in silence, August’s eyes scanning the menu but I can tell he’s not actually reading it. His gaze is sombre as his eyes slowly dart across the list of dining options.

Under the table, I fidget with my hands nervously. It’s unsettling how sour the mood has become, especially since I may have been the inadvertent cause of it.

“August,” I clear my throat, tugging gently on his menu to get his attention.

He sighs. “What?”

I bite my lip, sensing the irritation in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

His eyebrows tug into an even deeper frown.

“What?”

“At the Imperial Boutique,” I remark. “I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

Anxiously, I continue to wring my hands on my lap, aware that my tendency to get a little more enthusiastic than the average person can cause people to feel a little harried.

“I shouldn’t have entertained the idea of trying on the dresses, I know we only came here for research on the suits,” I continue. “I’m sorry for assuming it was okay.”

My nose crinkles as a sensation of discomfort prickles my chest.

“I understand it’s a work trip and I’m here as an employee. I should have been more mindful that we were on a strict schedule so I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundaries or if my behaviour was unprofessional.” I finish, quietly.

“Mahalia, that’s not…” He trails off.

“I really didn’t mean to waste your time. I’m sorry.”

Feeling my eyes well up, I keep my gaze fixed on the menu in front of me. What I’m not going to do is cry in public.

“Mahalia, look at me.” August’s voice prompts me to meet his gaze. “You have nothing to apologise for. You worked incredibly hard this weekend, I’m really impressed.”

His praise makes my heart flutter, warmth spreading across my chest.

“I apologise for my behaviour earlier,” He sighs. “I didn’t mean to imply you were wasting my time nor did I think you were being unprofessional for wanting to sightsee. Hell, I want to sightsee around Cionne too. Tobias was just trying to get under my skin. He might be a prince but he’s still my absurdly aggravating cousin. The way he was being more vexing than average, it usually means he’s up to something.”

“Oh,” I blink, frowning. “I see.”

“If you…” He hesitates, contemplating his next words. “If you want to take the tailor up on his offer to show you Cionne tomorrow, here.”

He slides the card with Armand’s details across the table and I tilt my head to the side, confused by the sudden offer.

“The latest the jet can leave is at 8 PM so you can have the entire day with him,” He adds, an incisively distant look on his face. “But do be mindful that we have work the day after and I will not wait around if you decide to stay out late.”

“Oh, I’m okay,” I assure him.

“Mahalia,” He warns. “Losing sleep over a boy is not something that you—”

“No,” I interrupt him, shaking my head. “I mean, I’d rather go by myself.”

I slide the card back to him before looking outside the window at the Cionne skyline. Whilst the idea of sightseeing is appealing, I scrunch my nose at the thought of spending a full day with a person I’ve only just met and who’d probably end up getting tired of my company.

August blinks at me, confused.

“I like doing things at my own pace,” I explain, turning my attention back to him. “I have a feeling he’d want to show me everything in such a limited amount of time and I don’t really fancy overwhelming myself. I don’t want to underwhelm him either, I don’t think he’d enjoy my company very much.”

August frowns. “What do you mean? Did he say something to you?”

“No, nothing like that,” I laugh nervously. “I just… I feel like all I’d talk about is work. I don’t have much of a personality outside of making clothes, unfortunately.”

I try not to let my insecurities resurface but I’ve been on enough awkward first dates and forced social interactions to know that people get tired really quickly when all a person can talk about is work. I’ve picked up enough of those social cues to understand that.

After a pause, I turn to August questioningly.

“Are we okay?”

“We’re more than okay.” He nods. “I apologise for my mood. My migraines make me irritable.”

“Does it still hurt?” I ask, concerned.

“I slept it off and took some painkillers earlier,” August replies. “I feel a lot better now.”

“I didn’t realise camera flashes would be so triggering for you,” I comment. “Did it happen a lot when you were modelling?”

“It’s not…” He trails off, pausing momentarily before sighing. “It had nothing to do with the flashes.”

I wait for him to elaborate.

“Not entirely. My royal pain in the ass cousin and his scheming ways are triggering.”

“Scheming?”

“Tobias likes to meddle whenever women in my life are involved.” He rolls his eyes. “Especially since we’re on his turf. Full-blooded Toussaintians are territorial like that.”

“Oh,” I blink in realisation. “It must happen with all the women the Peroxide Prince brings to Toussaint, huh?”

“Seeing as you’re the only woman I’ve ever brought to Toussaint,” He starts. “He’s more than thrilled.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “I already told him it’s not like that.”

Something flickers in August’s eyes.

“I heard,” He nods. “Any chance I can change your mind?”

I blink at his question, unsure whether or not I heard him correctly.

“Change my mind?” I stare at him. “About—”

Before I can finish asking, the waiter approaches our table, my question getting lost and fading into the background.

“Ready to order, monsieur? Mademoiselle?”

August and I are well into the dinner, two courses out of the five done, as well as an entire bottle of Merlot finished when August orders another bottle. I blink at how easily he drinks wine like it’s water but then remember his party-centric days as the Peroxide Prince.

“Do you really need alcohol to tolerate my presence?” I ask.

He responds with a nod. “It blurs you.”

I gasp audibly, taken aback by his reply. “That’s so rude.”

“Well, you are kind of…” He gestures flippantly, hiding a smile as he sips into his glass of wine. “Disorienting.”

“Excuse me?” I blink, not quite sure how to react.

“Yes, visually.” He nods, a teasing glint in his grey eyes. “Painfully glaring, almost.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“That isn’t any better, August.”

He hums in mock thought.

“Blinding, then?” He turns towards me and nods, as if content in his choice of wording. “Fitting, I think. Given my condition.”

“That makes it so much worse.” I grimace, struggling to find anything complimentary about rendering someone devoid of vision.

“You’re positively blinding because you leave me in a daze,” He continues. “How about that?”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I glare at him before looking away, trying not to draw attention to the heat rising to my cheeks.

“I’m telling you a fact, dearest Hartt.” He says, modest smirk transforming into a wider smile now.

The influence of alcohol is starting to show, causing him to be more playful and less reserved.

“You’re so dazzling, it physically hurts my eyes.” He pauses, his voice lowering to a murmur. “Yet it’s impossible to look away from you. I have to force myself most of the time.”

He shakes his head, says the statement in a way that sounded like it was meant solely for his ears to hear.

“Seeing you in that dress?” He continues, speaking in such hushed tones that I almost miss it. “Blinding.”

He takes another sip of his wine.

“I think it was the tulle,” I reply quietly. “And the glitter.”

August shakes his head.

“It was you.” He looks at me sincerely, foregoing any attempt to hide his smile now. “Brilliant and beautiful and so damn blinding.”

My heart stutters in my chest.

The tips of my fingers twitch involuntarily and the overwhelming urge to reach over and kiss him surges through me. His eyes flicker down to my mouth and it almost looks like he’s going to lean over when our waiter walks over to refill our glasses.

He takes the wine bottle and pours it over August’s glass and, just as August reaches out for it, I quickly swipe it across to me.

“Uh-uh.” I shake my head. “Pace yourself.”

He lets out a low chuckle, gazing at me in a way that’s all so new yet all so familiar.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I mumble.

I sweep my hair behind my shoulder, in an effort to discreetly fan myself at the sudden rise in temperature I feel in August’s presence.

“Why?” He leans forward, continuing to openly stare at me. “Am I making you nervous?”

Yes.

“You’re so unreserved.” He smiles easily then, reaching out to take a loose curl from my face and tucking it behind my ear. “It’s refreshing.”

I frown, realising I’ve replied out loud and say nothing else, choosing to gulp down the rest of my wine.

“Tinker-Talent, pace yourself.” He mimics me this time. “No more alcohol for you.”

Sliding the empty glass towards his direction, he gives me a playful, reprimanding stare.

“Yes, well.” I huff, blinking at him. “Now I need to blur you.”

August chuckles, the sound sending my chest in a flutter. I try not to think of how the sound of his laughter seems to be the soundtrack of our trip, wanting nothing more than to keep hearing it outside of our time here in Toussaint.