Stella stepped out of the car without a word, determined to ignore Weston.
He glanced at her, his patience unwavering. He wasn’t bothered by her silence or her refusal to acknowledge him.
Stella walked ahead, her eyes briefly catching sight of a familiar car. Her gaze lingered for a moment, but she pushed the thought aside and made her way into the elevator.
Weston followed behind her at his usual unhurried pace. It was as if he controlled the rhythm of everything, and no one—not even Stella—could disrupt it.
“You say no, but your actions say otherwise,” he teased, his voice light, almost amused.
Stella didn’t dignify his words with a response. Instead, she spoke flatly, “I’d rather cooperate and see what you want to do than keep struggling. I don’t have time for this, but I can’t escape either. No matter how much I resist, you’ll always find a way to make things happen. It’s better to just give in. I can’t fight you.”
Weston’s jaw tightened at the way she described their relationship. It stung, but he didn’t let it show. He wanted her back, the way she used to be, but he hadn’t expected her to use the word “fight.”
He sighed internally, reminding himself that it was only a matter of time. He had the patience to wait for her to come around.
As they entered the restaurant, Stella immediately noticed the stark contrast between the exterior and the interior. On the outside, it looked grand, but inside was something entirely different—low-key, almost secretive. The corridor they entered was lined with stone, the intricate patterns visible on the walls.
Curious, Stella reached out to touch the rough texture of the stone, her fingers tracing the patterns. Weston stood close behind her, his gaze softening as he observed her innocent curiosity. It was a side of him he rarely noticed—one that was gentle and quietly protective.
He followed her every movement, keeping a slight distance, his chest nearly brushing against her back as they walked together. The path ahead narrowed with every step, and Stella’s unease grew.
After walking for what seemed like an eternity, Stella still hadn’t seen a single waiter. “This doesn’t feel like a restaurant,” she muttered. “It’s more like a maze.”
She stopped suddenly, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Are we going the wrong way?”
Weston didn’t answer her directly. Instead, he gestured ahead with a subtle tilt of his chin. “Keep going.”
Reluctantly, Stella continued, but the further they walked, the darker the corridor became. The faint light ahead seemed distant and almost out of reach. It was as if the hallway itself was an endless, shifting void.
Stella felt a growing sense of unease, her heart beating a little faster. The light behind them, the one they had left behind, was gone. It was as if they were moving deeper into an unfamiliar world. She turned back and saw only darkness, save for Weston still following her, the only constant in the shifting shadows.
“Are you scared?” His voice came from above her, low and soothing.
Stella pressed her lips together, trying to steady her breath. “What is this place?”
Weston’s response was calm, almost detached. “Once you’re inside, you’ll know.”
They continued deeper, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation, yet Weston’s demeanor remained unaffected. He watched her, his eyes tracking every movement, noticing the slight tension in her posture as she tried to navigate the unsettling darkness. And then, without warning, a surge of instinct rushed through him. He acted without thinking, his arms wrapping around her in an unspoken offering of comfort.
“If you’re scared,” he murmured, “lean on me.”
The familiar scent of him enveloped Stella, the warmth of his embrace, and for a brief, fleeting moment, she was caught off guard. The world around her seemed to blur, and her thoughts scattered as she registered the closeness of their bodies. It was a moment of confusion, a mix of vulnerability and unease, and she stood there in his arms, lost in thought.
Skip to content