Evening ca.
Naomi sat quietly in her room, her golden eyes closed, as two won worked ticulously to prepare her for the evening. The first, a brunette, carefully applied Naomi’s makeup, while the second, a woman with chestnut-brown hair, focused on styling her hair.
The brunette couldn’t help but marvel at Naomi’s flawless skin. It was the smoothest she had ever encountered, a canvas so perfect that she questioned the necessity of makeup at all. She hesitated as she brushed light strokes of eyeshadow across Naomi’s lids, her hands almost trembling. Every motion felt unnecessary, as though she were painting over perfection. Naomi’s lashes caught her attention next, long and naturally curled. They put even the most expensive false lashes to sha.
The brunette glanced at the untouched package of false lashes resting on the vanity, realizing it was futile. She smiled softly to herself. Why would soone like her need false lashes? she thought.
"If I may ask, Mrs. Naomi," the brunette’s soft voice broke the serene silence, almost reverent in tone.
Naomi gave a small nod, her eyes remaining closed.
"What is your skincare routine?" the brunette asked, her curiosity slipping through despite her professional deanor.
Naomi repeated the words, "Skin care," softly, almost as if she were unfamiliar with the term. A crease ford between her brows, though her eyes remained closed. The brunette faltered slightly, realizing she might have overstepped.
"I an... face care," she corrected herself quickly, her voice trailing off in embarrassnt. But truthfully, she wanted to ask both. Naomi’s natural beauty was so striking that the brunette found it hard to believe she did anything at all.
Naomi opened her eyes and turned slightly toward the brunette, her voice as soft as a whisper. "I really don’t have one."
The response left the two won montarily stunned. They exchanged quick, wide-eyed glances, their disbelief apparent. How could soone have skin this flawless without any effort? It seed almost unnatural.
The chestnut-haired woman recovered first, clearing her throat and refocusing on her task. She gently began styling Naomi’s hair, brushing through the silken strands. Naomi’s golden-blonde locks glead under the soft light, and the woman found herself marveling at the color.
"You have such beautiful hair, Mrs. Naomi," she said, unable to hold back the complint.
"Thank you," Naomi replied quietly.
The stylist worked with skilled hands, creating a look that was both sophisticated and elegant, a style Naomi had never tried before. As Naomi glanced at the mirror, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration for the transformation.
A knock at the door interrupted the mont. The brunette went to answer it, opening the door to reveal a tall man holding a carefully wrapped box.
"Mr. Rylan," she greeted softly, her cheeks flushing slightly. The man handed her the box with a polite nod, murmured sothing in a low voice, then turned and left. The brunette quickly closed the door, her cheeks still tinted pink as she turned back to the room.
"Mrs. Naomi," she said warmly, holding up the box. "Your dress is here."
Naomi blinked, montarily caught off guard. She had been lost in her thoughts, her mind wandering as the evening preparations continued. Her heart gave an unexpected flutter, though she couldn’t place the reason. The rhythmic pounding grew louder, more pronounced, until she silently prayed no one else could hear it.
The brunette’s cheerful voice broke through her daze. "Ti to get ready."
Naomi stood, her movents graceful yet hesitant, as the brunette carefully opened the box. The three won’s eyes widened as the gown inside was revealed.
The dress was breathtaking—a long, erald-green gown crafted from the finest fabric Naomi had ever seen. It shimred faintly under the soft light, catching their gazes with its understated elegance. Beside it lay a delicate mask, perfectly matching the gown.
The brunette lifted the gown carefully, letting the luxurious fabric cascade over her arms. She looked at Naomi with a smile. "We’ll let you put it on. If you need any help, please don’t hesitate to call us."
Naomi nodded, appreciating their discretion. As the two won stepped out of the room, closing the door behind them, Naomi found herself staring at the gown. Her hands brushed over the soft fabric as she picked it up, marveling at its beauty.
Slipping into the gown, Naomi smoothed the fabric over her figure, appreciating the way it hugged her form without feeling constricting. But as she reached the back, her hands faltered. The intricate straps proved too difficult to fasten on her own.
She bit her lip in frustration, hesitating for a mont before calling out, "Um... yes, I need help."
The two won re-entered promptly, understanding her predicant without a word. They worked together to secure the gown, their hands deftly fastening the delicate straps. As the final strap was pulled into place, Naomi let out a small sigh of relief.
The gown fit perfectly, cinching at her waist and highlighting her hourglass figure. Naomi frowned slightly, wondering how they had known her exact asurents. No one had co to asure her.
She turned to the mirror and froze, her breath catching in her throat. The erald-green gown shimred against her golden hair and eyes, creating an image so striking that she hardly recognized herself.
The brunette handed Naomi the mask. "Mrs. Naomi, your mask."
Naomi took it carefully, placing it over her face. When she looked up again, she saw the two won staring at her in awe.
"My goodness," the brunette murmured, her voice filled with admiration. "You look absolutely stunning."
Her colleague nodded in agreent. "Mrs. Naomi, your hair is so beautiful. The color is just perfect with this dress."
Naomi’s cheeks flushed pink at their words, a warm feeling blooming in her chest. It had been so long since soone spoke to her like this.
"Thank you," she said softly, her voice full of genuine gratitude.
The brunette glanced at the clock and laughed lightly. "We’ve spent so much ti here. Co on, Mrs. Naomi. You have to leave now—Mr. Zylan is probably waiting for you!"
The ntion of Zylan’s na sent a jolt through Naomi, deepening the blush on her cheeks. The two won exchanged knowing smiles, their playful teasing making her blush even harder.
"Alright, alright," the brunette said, still smiling. "Mrs. Naomi, it’s ti to go."
Naomi descended the grand staircase with deliberate care, her see-through heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She focused intently on each step, her heart racing with every movent.
Halfway down the staircase, a deep voice broke the silence.
"My Eaglet is finally ready," Zylan said, his tone warm but teasing, the faint smirk on his lips unmistakable.
Naomi’s breath caught in her chest, her heart hamring wildly against her ribcage. Slowly, she glanced down, her golden eyes widening slightly as she caught sight of Zylan at the base of the grand staircase. His gaze was unwavering, piercing, and intense as if he could see through every inch of her. The slight curl of his lips sent an unexplainable shiver down her spine, leaving her cheeks flushed with a delicate shade of pink.
Zylan’s eyes swept over her figure, lingering on the erald-green gown she wore. It fit her so perfectly, almost as though it had been crafted by soone who knew every curve of her body. That soone, of course, was him. Unknown to Naomi, Zylan had personally ensured her asurents were precise, refusing to let anyone else near her. His protectiveness over her was sothing he would never openly admit, but it was clear in the effort he had poured into ensuring her gown was nothing less than perfect.
The truth was, when the ti had co for soone to asure her, Zylan hadn’t been present. The very thought of another person—man or woman—touching her, even for such a trivial task, had been intolerable to him. Instead, he had sent specific instructions, trusting only himself to oversee the details.
And now, here she was—a vision of elegance and grace.
The square neckline of the gown revealed just a subtle hint of her cleavage, a detail that brought a faint frown to Zylan’s otherwise stoic face. He detested the idea of anyone else catching even the smallest glimpse of her. Yet, despite his silent disapproval, he couldn’t deny the gown’s breathtaking beauty.
The dress hugged her figure flawlessly, highlighting her slim waist and the soft, curvaceous lines of her body. The luxurious erald fabric shimred under the golden light of the chandeliers, and the intricate diamonds adorning the waistline sparkled with every step she took. Dual slits on either side of the skirt added a teasingly alluring touch, though they made Zylan’s possessive nature stir uneasily.
The square neckline was accented by a delicate diamond design, glowing softly as it caught the chandelier’s light. It wasn’t just a gown—it was a masterpiece, crafted to perfection. And perfection, Zylan realized, was exactly what Naomi embodied at that mont.
Naomi, however, could hardly process her own appearance. Her heart raced as she descended the staircase, her golden-blonde hair cascading down her back in soft waves. The blush on her cheeks deepened under the intensity of Zylan’s gaze, which remained locked on her with an almost overwhelming admiration.
As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she hesitated for a brief mont, her flushed face tilted slightly downward. The silence between them was palpable, filled only by the rhythmic sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor.
Zylan’s expression softened as he took a step closer to her, his towering fra exuding quiet authority and undeniable presence. He gazed at her with a mixture of pride and awe before his lips parted, his deep voice breaking the silence.
"So, so gorgeous," he murmured, his tone sincere and laced with sothing deeper—sothing he wasn’t quite ready to admit aloud.
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