Chapter 54 The Stench of Fish and Ambition
The Northern Port is a literal hellhole. The stench of rotten fish stings my nostrils, making my stomach turn. The ground beneath our expensive shoes is a soggy mess of mud and seawater filth.
Gisella stopped dead in her tracks. She stared down at her cream silk dress, already splattered with mud. Her face turned ghost-white.
"Ilse," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Are you sure this is the right place? I'm going to die standing here."
"Shut up," I grabbed her arm, forcing her to keep walking between those smelly, rusty wooden crates. "You want your reputation back, right? Do it now."
Up ahead, the commotion was heating up. Julian Vance was standing on top of a stack of crates, his face bright red, screaming at a port foreman who was twice his size. But for some reason, the foreman looked like a rat cornered by a cat.
"I said, if that ship doesn't set sail within two hours, I'm burning this warehouse to the ground with everything in it!" Julian shouted. His voice was gravelly, rough it made everyone around him cower in fear.
"God, he's terrifying," I muttered, ducking behind a stack of hay. "Okay, Gisella. Your turn. Move."
Gisella took a deep breath. She looked hesitant. Disgusted. But she remembered what I said about Didier and his betrayal. She balled her fists and stepped forward.
I peeked from behind the wooden crates, my heart hammering against my ribs. Gisella walked through the filth. She looked like an angel lost in a garbage dump. Her pretty dress was a stark contrast to the slum-like vibe of the harbor.
The foreman Julian was yelling at saw Gisella first. He just stared, mouth agape. Julian sensed something was off; he stopped mid-shout and slowly turned around.
Julian's gaze was razor-sharp. He raked his eyes over her, from her shoes up to her roughly chopped hair. He went silent. Not angry, not shouting just staring with a look that was... cold. Confused.
Why the hell is she here? That had to be what was going through his head.
Gisella stopped right in front of him. She looked visibly uncomfortable with the harbor stench, but she didn't back down. She stood her ground.
"Mr. Vance," Gisella's voice cut through the noise of the ship engines.
Julian kept staring. His eyes narrowed, assessing the situation. He looked genuinely annoyed. But there was something else in his eyes curiosity. Why was a spoiled princess who usually only knew how to sip tea in the palace standing here, her shoes covered in harbor sludge?
Gisella didn't bolt. Instead, she stared right back into Julian's eyes. Challenging him.
I bit my lip in my hiding spot. Come on, Gisella. Don't screw this up. You got this.