Weston watched her closely, studying her every reaction. As her brow furrowed in discomfort, he instinctively eased the pressure on his hands. His movements were cautious, yet despite his efforts, he still managed to hurt her occasionally.
But he was a quick learner. After a few attempts, he adjusted his touch, ensuring he no longer caused her pain. In just a matter of minutes, he had mastered the technique, and from that moment on, he handled her with care.
The hum of the hair dryer faded as he finished. Her hair, now dry, cascaded softly over her shoulders, framing her delicate face. Weston lifted her up, carefully combing through the strands, and then paused, a thought crossing his mind.
“Your hair… it’s grown longer?” he asked, noticing the change.
Stella turned her face away slightly, not wanting to engage with him. He could tell by her subtle movement that she was uncomfortable, yet he pressed on. “It’s still early. Do you want to do something else?”
“I want to sleep,” she replied, shaking her head, her voice tinged with exhaustion.
“It’s only 9 pm,” he countered, his tone shifting to something more insistent. “You won’t be able to sleep yet. Or…” His voice carried a new, almost suggestive meaning.
Stella’s brows furrowed as she felt her frustration rising. Her fist clenched involuntarily. He always did this. When she didn’t want to comply, he wouldn’t push her directly. Instead, he’d present her with another option, one that was far from what she desired. Eventually, she’d have no choice but to agree.
With a deep breath, Stella resigned herself to his game. She knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Let’s just watch a movie,” she said, her voice resigned.
“Really?” Weston seemed surprised, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. “I thought you’d say you wanted to play the piano.”
She stiffened slightly at his words. He hadn’t forgotten about the scene in the hall. She had hoped he’d let it go, but instead, he brought it up again.
“Don’t tell me you want to cause trouble for that person,” he teased, a knowing look in his eyes.
Stella’s eyes widened in shock. “That man is a stranger to me. I don’t want him involved in our issues,” she said firmly. She didn’t want to complicate things for someone who had nothing to do with their problems, especially when it could potentially ruin Yvonne’s relationship with Lucas.
She could feel the weight of Lucas’s judgment on her. He already looked down on her, and Stella, self-conscious as she was, couldn’t bring herself to accept help from others. She wanted nothing more than to keep her personal matters away from those who could be hurt by them.
Weston, however, misinterpreted her defense. “You just met him, and you’re already protecting him?” he asked, sounding a bit incredulous.
“I’m not protecting him,” she snapped, her tone rising. “I just don’t want an innocent person dragged into this mess!”
She spoke louder now, frustration building inside her. How could Weston not understand? He was a man who had always been in control, accustomed to people bending to his will. He had never known the agony of feeling trapped, of having no good choices. His reckless behavior came from his inability to empathize with that struggle.
Weston seemed to register her words, though his expression remained unreadable. He adjusted his position, gently helping her sit more comfortably in his arms. “It seems you have a lot of opinions about me,” he said, his voice quieter, but his gaze hard.
Stella lowered her eyes, the weight of his words heavy on her. “I wouldn’t dare,” she murmured, trying to stay composed.
He tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You’re quite brave when you’re complaining about me,” he said, his voice cold but with an edge of something more. “Why don’t you dare now?” His words implied a certain possessiveness, a belief that only Stella had the audacity to challenge him like this. He wouldn’t have tolerated it from anyone else—not even Guinevere.
Stella resisted the urge to recoil, her eyes defiant as she glared at him. He noticed the shift in her demeanor, the way she was trying to fight him, and his gaze grew colder. But then he spoke, his tone softening just slightly.
“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice almost gentle. “I won’t cause trouble for that man, as long as you don’t do things that anger me. I won’t make things difficult for you, either.”
Stella clenched her fists, frustration bubbling within her. How could he make these promises, knowing full well he was the one who caused her so much pain? Yet, in this moment, she had no choice but to nod, her lips tight as she gave a reluctant agreement.
“Remember your words,” she said quietly, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing would truly change.
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