Chapter 49🌜 Cufflink Deliema
William's POV
"Open the door!" He slams his fist on the door, which now seems like his hourly ritual.
"He's back." I blink when Zane and I say in unison.
Whereas I can't meet his eyes, "I'll get the door," I can tell a cocky smirk when I hear one.
Especially his.
"Oh my god, even after I told you the time?!" He rushes inside but before Zane can finish his nonchalant motion of shutting the door-
A lady steps across our threshold. With piercing eyes judging us from behind her Gucci frames, and her YSLs trampling the carpet, she instantly signals pure business. She is wearing a ribbed knit bodycon midi topped with a heavy floor-sweeping faux fur coat.
A curvy brunette stops behind the East Asian woman. One look, and it's clear-she's Indian.
Where the designer has her hair up in a chic bun with perfect curtain bangs, this one's hair is thrown into a messy, rushed ponytail with loose strands escaping around her face.
A buttoned-up leopard print shirt beneath an oversized blazer, a wide-ass tie and dangling hoop earrings framing a scowling face look more like her aesthetic.
She grips the metal bar of a rolling clothing rack, loaded down with an endless stream of outfits.
"Here she is..." Enzo moves forward and they blow some air kisses. Formal and all the ugly that I hate. "So, I don't think she needs an introduction, I mean-it's her." He shifts his weight from one leg to the other while gushing about her greatness.
"Well I don't..." I whisper under my breath-or so I think-everyone turns their head in my direction as if I just said out loud that the Mona Lisa is overrated.
I guess I just did.
Out of all the moments, this is the moment she considers me. She pulls down her frames, her eyes shredding me piece by piece as they take my snuggly hoodie with a 'I love pineapples RaW' on it; paired with baggy trousers in.
What? Now I'm not even allowed to be cozy?
I pull the bottom hem of my hoodie down, as if it wasn't oversized enough already.
"Damn, you really don't know her? Must live under a rock," Enzo answers his own question, looking at me like a rat in a lab experiment. His brother isn't any better either, chuckling under his breath.
"William, this is Chloe, a renowned celebrity stylist and fashion designer and a close family friend," Zane finally puts a name on this figure. "And Chloe, this is my darling husband, William Oberoi-Maxwell."
There is a sense of quiet possessiveness in the way he says my name. A subtle sense of pride, and an annoying amount of sweetness in that slur he used.
I just know he's looking straight at my face, relaxed as ever. The creases of his pants crisp as ever. But there's one more pair of eyes focused on me that straightens up my spine to perfection.
None other than the wannabe Miranda Priestly.
"Anyway, now as the introductions are done, we can jump onto the cool part. Or like the strategy part. So the plan is simple. You both would arrive at the Gala by 8, meet and greet the boring people there in one of these three piece suits."
He points to one half of the rack packed with some blazers, trouser pants and ironed white shirts.
"And then the fun part will start. We all will leave those oldies by 9:30. Yeah-you have to bear them for one hour and thirty minutes. Painful, right? Anywayssss,
You will leave from there and come back to your suites and get ready in these sexy-ass-" A sharp clearing of throat pauses the rollercoaster ride of his blabbering.
"Sorry. Where was I? Yeah, so you will get ready here, our sick team will be waiting in our rooms. Stylists? Check. Hair Makeup artists? Check. These people work at runways, man, so we gotta be ready around ten. Then you will come to the West Wing, i.e. Hell. And we all will paint the town red.
"So...? Where's my huge round of applause?" A silence so thick that it could break a knife spreads after he stops.
No one says a word, although, I am sure Zane has some really colorful words to say, seeing the way he is firing soundless bullets on Enzo with his eyes.
"Well... Now, I will take my leave. My assistant, Meera, will help you with your outfits." Her eyes linger on my pineapple hoodie for one final, devastating second before she puts her shades back on and steps toward the hall. "Let's just hope Meera can work miracles with what she has to work with."
She won't even be down the elevator before Zane steps forward to crush Enzo's skull-figuratively, at least. "Would you like to explain yourself, Lorenzo or should I come straight to the conclusion?" He cracks his knuckles.
"Woah... what did I do this time, big bruh?"
"Does he know?" From the looks of it, it feels like a crack in a dam waiting to burst. Even Meera is looking frightened, clutching the buttons of her top for emotional support.
"He, who? You know, you have to be a bit clearer than that." He scratches his chin thoughtfully.
"Don't. Test. Me. Enzo." Every word is a boundary waiting to be crossed.
"Okay-okay. Calm down. I-ahem-he doesn't know. But I'm sure I mentioned that this morning..."
"No. You didn't. Don't try to fool me because you know, you can't." Zane pulls the chair and sits down on it, now looking calmer. "The truth, Enzo. You have one minute."
"Okay, so see, whatever I just said is the actual plan all of us are gonna follow.
Though, there's just a teeny tiny problem here, the rest of us can leave, 'cus duh, our parents won't give a shit.
But as for you both, we will have to do something to get out of there.
See, I have talked to Vance and he did say he would talk to dad so that we can all celebrate the New Year separately this year.
But the only hurdle is, it's kinda your first appearance after the marriage, so it's kinda a big deal."
"Kinda? And what happened to all that 'I am the youngest Belladonna, I don't take approvals, I give them'?"
"Well...aura farming is a thing, y'know?"
Again, Zane falls silent as if he has taken something in deep consideration. "Vance agreed?"
"Yeah."
"But what if dad doesn't agree? You do know how dangerous it can be right? With all the crackheads present in the ballroom tonight, one wrong decision could cost millions. Both dollars and lives."
"Then we just won't leave. Simple." Zane buries his face in hand, rubbing his forehead. "Now stop stressing otherwise you will get greys in your twenties. It's never that deep.
"See you at 8 then." He fumbles on the stand of the wrack, his face dumping between some shirts. "Damn, these things are nasty."
"Careful! Don't mess up the iron!" Meera squeals. Bending down to pick up the shirt which got flying outside.
"My bad," he helps her with the shirt. But I turn to Zane, I don't know, I just want to say something to him.
But what?
And most importantly, why?
??
Zane's POV
"Are you ready?" I ask him after declining my conference call. I turn around, and from the looks of it, he surely isn't.
He's staring intently at the cuff of his right hand.
"Uh-yeah. Almost." Holding his breath, he pinches the double folded linen of his right sleeve between two left fingers.
He tries to guide the torpedo through the four assigned holes, but his thumb slips on the polished metal.
The cufflink pops free, bounces off his wrist and vanishes into the thick bedroom rug with a mocking clink.
He swears something under his breath, already dropping to his knees.
He stands up after he finally finds it, and immediately goes back to pointing its end to the hole. "Are you trying to dress yourself or wrestle with the cufflink?"
Before he can snap a reply, the cool of my fingers brushes the heated clumsiness of his as I take it from him, securing it in my pocket.
He startles as my voice cuts through the silence.
Just the faint scent of rain falling on an ember surrounding us.
He doesn't deny the permission I don't wait for, but his fingers stay where they are.
"You are sweating," I remark without looking up, he drops his hand in a swift motion.
The loss of his fingertips leaves my hand cold.
"I can do it," he mutters, his voice breaking as he faces outside the window. He can hide his face from me, but the heart thumping loudly can't lie.
"Clearly," I bend my head to pull the crumpled cuff.
With a practiced pinch of my fingers and thumb I smoothen out the distorted layers, aligning the rebellious holes instantly.
Without looking up, I can feel him staring at the crown of dark hair on my head from the corner of his eyes. Not so sneaky, are you, gattino?
A soft metallic click blends with our racing breaths as the silver bar locks into place. I don't immediately pull back, my gaze lingering a half of a second too long at the smoothness of his slender wrist, before I finally look up, my eyes locking with William's.
My lips part but I clip them shut, my mouth suddenly feeling too dry. For a second, his eyes drop onto my lips before he steps back. "We should leave now," he feigns a smirk, "don't want to be late at our own reception, now, do we?"
I shake my head, "After you." He walks outside the door and I stare at the ceiling for a second, my hands going back into my pocket as I walk behind him.
??
Unknown POV
"He agreed?"
"Of course he did. I just had to play the right pawns and-"
I lean low over the table, eyes locked on the target. The cue slides forward-one clean, clinical strike echoing in the quiet, "Checkmate."
"But what did you say?"
"That's none of your business," without giving her a glance, I pull out a handkerchief from my pocket, still glaring at the pool table, I wipe the cue.
"So, tonight?"
"Tonight."
A/N????
Tonight.
What do you think is gonna happen tonight?
Who is this unknown POV?
Hmm...Chloe and Meera were introduced, thoughts on the Asian baddies?
How was the chapter? ??
Comments? ??
Votes? ??
I promise I will whip a chapter quicker, and boy... as we are reaching the half-century, I promise after two to three chapters, we are gonna step into a completely new arc of the story.
Cus... tonight;)