We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Cedar’s POV

“Are you enjoying the view? I finally snapped, my embarrassment manifesting as anger. “This is highly inappropriate.”

His expression shuttered immediately. There’s nothing particularly remarkable to see, Ms. Wright.”

The casual dismissal stung more than it should have. I opened my mouth to retort, but Ridley had already moved behind me.

“Your hair is caught in the zipper,‘ he stated matter–of–factly. ‘Hold still.”

1 froze as his fingers worked at the tangled strands with surprising dexterity. Each accidental brush against my skin sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I focused on the carpet pattern, willing my heart to stop racing.

“You have unusually fine hair, he commented, his voice closer to my ear than I expected. “It tangles easily.”

I didn’t trust myself to respond.

After what felt like an eternity, I felt the zipper glide smoothly upward, securing the dress in place. His hands lingered at the top of the zipper for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

“There,” he said, his voice oddly softer. “Turn around.”

I complied reluctantly, keeping my eyes fixed somewhere near his collar.

“It fits you well,” Ridley observed after a moment of silence. “Better than I anticipated.”

The unexpected compliment drew my gaze up to his face. His expression had changed subtly–the cold assessment replaced by something I couldn’t quite identify.

“Thank you,” I managed, unsure how to respond to this sudden shift. “I appreciate the loan of the dress.”

He nodded once, then checked his watch. “We have ninety minutes. My styling team is waiting in the other room to finish your preparation.” He started toward the door, then paused. “The dress is yours to keep, by the way. Consider it a welcome gift from Sterling Design Group.”

Before I could fully process what was happening, my mind raced. Wait–this dress was a gift from him? This puzzling boss of mine who seemed to delight in mocking me at my most awkward moments, yet somehow appeared with a helping hand when I needed it most. How had I become so entangled with him? And now, accepting expensive dresses?

“I thought this was company–provided attire,” I said, feeling my resolve strengthen. “If it’s personal, I can’t accept it, Mr. Sterling.

His expression didn’t change. ‘It’s not for you specifically. It’s to ensure my companion for the evening looks appropriate for someone of my position. Consider it something I purchased for myself. Is that acceptable?”

So that was it–just appropriate window dressing for whoever happened to be on his arm tonight. It happened to be me, but it could have been anyone. A strange mix of relief and unexpected disappointment washed over me, I met his gaze, nodding with a distant expression.

I still felt sorry for not being able to wear the dress from Oliver, and the shoes and accessories from Aiden. It was true that this outfit was more suitable for the gala. But their gestures meant the world to me.

1/2

Chapter 47

I watched as Ridley’s perfectly sculpted lips parted, his words coming out with cool detachment. ‘Let’s go. You need to get styled.”

I knew tonight’s charity gala was crucial for the Sterling Design Group, so I didn’t dare protest further. I quietly followed Ridley toward a styling studio.

‘Well, well! What cosmic event brought the great Ridley Sterling to my humble domain?”

A tall man with an expertly tailored suit approached us, his perpetual smirk firmly in place. When he noticed me standing beside Ridley, his eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise.

“Has hell frozen over? The notorious bachelor Ridley Sterling actually brought a woman to an event?”

Ridley fixed him with an icy stare. “Your commentary isn’t required, Jack.”

Jack Carter, the notorious wealthy playboy whose family had long–standing ties with the Sterlings, seemed completely unfazed by Ridley’s coldness. His

styling studio was more of a passion project and social diversion than any real business venture, catering exclusively to the city’s elite.

He sidled up to me with practiced charm. “And who might you be, connecting with our untouchable design mogul?‘

I had attended enough high–society events during my years with Elara to recognize Jack immediately. He was a fixture in Gold Coast social circles, known as

much for his womanizing as for his styling expertise. I recalled how Elara had once attempted to “introduce me to Jack at a gala, clearly hoping to gain his patronage through my companionship.

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