That afternoon, after finishing her video editing class, Isla Prescott was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.
She got up, packed away her laptop, and decided to head to the upstairs coffee shop for a life-saving cup of coffee.
While waiting for the elevator, she sent Annabelle Leighton an update on the day’s renovation progress. Although Annabelle wasn’t there in person, she showered Isla with a stream of "You’re the best!" stickers, giving her a much-needed emotional boost.
Isla was smiling at her phone when the elevator doors opened. She glanced up and her eyes t Shane Sterling’s.
Shane Sterling stood at the very front, dressed in a black pinstripe suit with his hands in his pockets. The light inside the car gave him an air of refined elegance, but the mont he curved his lips into a smirk, a wave of his roguish, untad charisma washed over her.
"Well, if it isn’t Ms. Prescott herself?"
Five or six people stood behind Shane, all sharply dressed corporate executives. Hearing him greet Isla, they all nodded and smiled at her one by one.
Isla suddenly felt a bit awkward, but she politely returned their smiles.
She stepped into the elevator, and Shane moved aside to make room for her.
"How are the preparations for the dance studio coming along?"
"The renovations are almost finished."
"Rember to let know when you open. I’ll co by to show my support."
"Okay."
After just a few sentences of small talk, the elevator had already stopped at Isla’s floor.
"This is my stop," she said to Shane.
"Mm."
Isla bought a coffee and went back downstairs to continue learning about social dia. They say that in the age of self-publishing, anyone can be an influencer, but in reality, every field is a world of its own. Once you actually try to understand the ins and outs, you discover just how deep the rabbit hole goes.
The renovation crew clocked out at five. Because Isla had used the studio’s address for a curtain delivery she’d ordered online, she had to stay behind and wait for the package.
Around six o’clock, the delivery man brought the curtains up.
She opened the package to check them and had a feeling the dinsions were wrong. She imdiately grabbed an A-fra ladder, climbed up, and hung one of the curtains. Sure enough, her test revealed the curtain was much shorter than the size she had ordered.
Isla took a photo and sent it to the seller, explaining the situation. The seller was very cooperative, saying they would ship a new one and cover the round-trip shipping costs. They even sent a red packet as compensation.
With the problem solved, Isla climbed the ladder again, getting ready to take down the test curtain to send it back.
"Working for yourself is quite the grind, huh? Still haven’t clocked out this late?" Shane Sterling’s voice suddenly ca from behind her.
Caught completely off guard, Isla’s foot slipped. She nearly fell right off the ladder.
"Careful!"
Shane hadn’t expected such a strong reaction from her either. He lunged forward in a single motion, his hands shooting out to steady her waist from behind.
He had always thought the classic poetic praise for a slender waist, one "small enough to encircle in a single grasp," was just an exaggerated ideal, a shackle placed on won for centuries. He never expected Isla’s waist to actually be just that narrow.
Isla felt Shane’s hands gripping her lower back. The warmth of his palms spread through the thin fabric of her shirt, the sensation like a drop of ink falling into clear water. His invasive presence and her flustered panic were both starkly vivid.
She froze, caught in a dilemma—unable to go up or down.
"Is your foot okay?"
At Shane’s question, Isla finally noticed a faint pain in her ankle. It probably wasn’t twisted, just scraped when her foot slipped.
"It’s no—"
Before she could finish, Shane swept an arm around her and lifted her into his arms, bridal style.
The sudden feeling of weightlessness made Isla cry out in surprise. She instinctively grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket—a deeply dependent gesture.
"What are you afraid of?" Shane looked down at her and smiled. "I’m not going to drop you."
Isla’s heart was pounding fast and heavy. "Put down."
Shane set her down on a chair.
"Did you twist your ankle?"
He crouched in front of her and naturally lifted the cuff of her jeans to check her ankle. The scene felt familiar, but the only difference was that, compared to her resistance back then, all Isla felt now was a flutter of anxiety and a racing heart.
"It’s not twisted, just scraped." She pulled her foot back and brushed off her pant leg. To hide her unusual reaction, she deliberately blad him, "Were you born a cat or sothing? You don’t make a sound when you walk."
"And why don’t you say you were born a bear, with ears that bad?"
"I was just focused on what I was doing, okay?"
Shane looked up at the curtain, which was clearly too short. "Do you need to take it down?"
"Yeah."
Without another word, he stepped onto the ladder and took the curtain down.
"Don’t put it on the floor, I have to return it." Isla got up, took the curtain from his hands, folded it back the way it was originally, and placed it back in the box.
"You bought it online?"
"Mhm."
"Why not get it custom-made at a local shop?"
"Because it’s expensive, of course. For a similar style, buying it online is much cheaper." ’Annabelle Leighton isn’t short on cash, but I can’t be wasteful either. I should save where I can.’
Shane frowned slightly, then looked up and asked in all seriousness, "Are the initial funds that tight? Do you want to invest so money?"
"No, no." Isla quickly waved her hands. "Thank you, Young Mr. Sterling, but no. The half-price rent is already a huge help."
He chuckled. "Don’t be so formal. You’ve helped out plenty, too."
Isla subconsciously assud he was talking about Ezra Sterling. "Actually, about that thing with Ezra..."
"I’m not talking about that," Shane interrupted. "I’m talking about the ti I was drunk and you took ho."
It had been so long that Isla had nearly forgotten about that mory. But with Shane’s sudden reminder, the intimate images from that night instantly popped back into her mind, along with his words: "Why don’t you give a kiss?"
She looked down, but she couldn’t hide the blush creeping up the tips of her ears.
"That was nothing, really. Just a small favor."
"I’m not always the best drunk. I didn’t say anything crazy that day, did I?"
"No," Isla denied quickly.
Shane looked into her eyes. "Really? Nothing?"
"Really, nothing. You passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow."
"Hearing that, it sounds like I’m a pretty decent drunk after all."
Isla wasn’t good at lying and was afraid she’d give herself away if she said any more. Not wanting to continue the topic, she pointed to the nearly-finished studio and said to Shane, "Sean, since you’re already here, would you like a tour?"
"Sure."
Isla led Shane on a tour of the entire space, explaining each area in great detail.
Shane could feel her excitent for the dance studio and her hopes for the future through her words.
From the death of her hopes at the ritopia Song and Dance Troupe to the rekindling of them now, she seed to possess an endless well of courage to start over. Even after walking through hardship, she always believed that the old flags couldn’t block out the new sun.
This was perhaps the quality that attracted him most to Isla. She was like a flower blooming from the cracks in a stone; a cruel environnt only forged her unyielding vitality, making her spirit stronger and stronger.
"Look, the view from this window is especially beautiful at night." Isla pointed to the distant skyscrapers, which had a distinct cyberpunk vibe.
Shane followed her finger with his gaze and said quietly, "The direction you’re pointing is The Lockwood Group."
Isla froze. "Is it? I thought Lockwood Tower was on East Street."
"Silas made so drastic reforms after he took over. Not only did he clean out a batch of the old guard, but he also sold the original Lockwood Tower. Didn’t he tell you?"
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