"It's only natural," he said, not worried about her ability to adapt. It was her well-being that concerned him.
"Once you get to Falconridge, shoot me a text."
"Okay," she said with a gentle nod.
...
The next morning, Eliza was back in Falconridge. After a weekend with Brock, she was on a flight to France. One of her paintings had snagged an international award, along with a hefty cash prize, and the organizers wanted her there to accept it. Luckily, Juan was there too. Having not traveled abroad in ages, she saw this as a chance to unwind.
In a chic little boutique, Juan was draping dress after dress on Eliza. Eyeing the price tags, she felt it was overkill.
"No need to splurge on something so pricey. It's just an award ceremony—such a waste."
"This isn't just any award; it's the famous Twin Vision Award. You're the only gold medalist. Going in a T-shirt and jeans? You'd be embarrassing not just yourself but the whole country."
Juan raised the stakes so high, Eliza had no comeback. Her protests turned flimsy, "Alright, let's pick something more reasonable."
"Try this one on."
Juan handed her a simple white dress, cleverly designed to hide her slightly rounded tummy. It had an ethereal vibe, perfectly matching Eliza's cool and elegant demeanor.
Eliza had a knack for wearing clothes well. Even a dress demanding such a perfect figure looked just right on her.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: His Destructive, Toxic Love