“I just want to give this a try, that’s all,” Stella murmured, her eyes locked on Weston’s.
There was a shimmer in her gaze, a deliberate gloss of innocence that made her look heartbreakingly vulnerable. Weston knew she was doing it on purpose—softening her tone, lowering her lashes—but knowing didn’t make it any easier to resist. His heart still softened at the sight.
“So, you really want to be an actress that badly?” he asked quietly.
“Mm-hmm,” she nodded. “Besides… once the training center closes, I’ll have nothing else to do.”
“You could stay with me,” he offered. “Be my companion.”
“But you’re not around all day, are you?” she countered, gently but firmly.
Oddly, her response pleased him. The ice in his expression melted, and he eased his grip around her waist. His fingertips brushed her cheek with the gentleness of a caress.
“Still,” he said softly, “every moment that I’m not working, I spend with you. Isn’t that enough?”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s not enough.”
She nestled her head against his shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, she felt like she held all the power in the world. She suddenly realized she knew exactly how to reach him—how to break through his defenses. It was all about reminding him of the past, of what they once had.
That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? For her to return to the woman she was when they were married?
“Back then,” she said with a hint of bitterness, “I waited for you to come home every day. I was all alone in that big, empty house… staring at the walls for hours. It was awful.”
Weston stiffened. Her words pierced him, dragging his mind back to a past he didn’t want to revisit. Her tone, the way she looked at him—it blurred the lines between the defiant Ella Steele and the sweet, devoted Stella Sealey.
“You… really waited for me?” he asked, lifting her chin, searching her eyes.
“Every day,” she said without hesitation. “And on the nights you didn’t come home, I stayed up until morning… just in case. Didn’t you ever notice? The lights were always on.”
Weston’s heart ached. He pulled her tightly into his arms, burying his face in her hair, as if that could undo the past. Then he kissed her—gently at first, on her eyes, then slowly along the curve of her face, until his lips found her chin.
The emotion in the moment almost overwhelmed her.
“…Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.
“I didn’t want to disturb your work,” she answered with a wry smile. “You were the one who told me not to call unless it was an emergency.”
He closed his eyes, recalling the very words he once said—words that now filled him with regret.
“From now on,” he declared, his tone firm, “you can come to me anytime. For any reason. But one thing—stay away from Justin Hall. Do you understand?”
Stella nodded without hesitation.
“I really enjoy acting,” she added. “And I promise, if you let me do this, I’ll never give you any trouble. Most filming happens during the day anyway, so I’ll still be home by the time you get back. Please, let me have this.”
Her gaze, her voice, even her posture—all of it reminded Weston of the Stella he used to love, the one he still couldn’t forget.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
A whirlwind of conflicting emotions surged inside him. Love, guilt, frustration, desire—they tangled together until he felt like he could barely breathe.
She had always held this power over him. Always.
With a hand gently pressing the nape of her neck, Weston leaned in and kissed her deeply. It wasn’t gentle—there was a fire behind it, a rawness that made Stella tremble. He bit her lower lip as if to taste the truth in her promises, the pain behind her patience.
They kissed for a long time. And when he finally pulled away, breathless, his mouth brushed against her ear.
“…You always get your way, don’t you?” he whispered, defeated.
Stella could only smile faintly. Because Weston had always been this way—treating her like she ruled not just his heart, but every part of him.
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