"She wants nothing to do with him... He would be miserable without her."
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Meet Sophie Franklin, a fiercely independent fashion designer who lives in New York, and then there's Marcus Beadoux, a dashing prince with...
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Playlist. Those Eyes by New West Enjoy reading!
I wake up to the gentle light streaming through the curtains, the soft warmth of morning enveloping me. A dull ache pulsates in my head, and for a while, my mind is strangely empty as I find myself wondering where the hell I am. Then suddenly, it hits me. The memories flood back, threatening to overwhelm me, and I catch myself groaning, burying my face in my hands. Marcus's presence was in this room last night, and all the tender moments shared in the dimly lit room flood back, weighing heavily on my mind.
Sitting up slowly, I rub my temples, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Marcus had stayed with me until I was calm enough, and only left when he was sure they would be beginning to look for him, with a promise to see me soon enough. A small smile starts to blossom on my face, but I immediately stamp it out, running a hand through my disheveled hair as I stifle a groan.
I'd agreed to his proposal. That was an impulsive, reckless thing to do. And now, I have no idea if I can go back on my word. But dwelling on it won't change anything. Besides, what difference would it make? Shaking my head, I try to dissuade all thoughts of Marcus from my mind. I really don't want to be thinking about it first thing in the morning.
With a sigh, I push myself out of bed and begin my morning routine. I head straight to the bathroom, splashing some water on my face and proceeding to brush my teeth. Unbiddenly, my mind goes to the kiss we shared, and I find a blush staining my cheeks. I pause slightly, a wave of different emotions crashing on top of me. I resist the urge to touch my lips and continue with my morning routine. There's no room for distractions, especially when there's work to be done.
I finish bathing, and by the time I'm back to my room, the maids have brought in my breakfast. I immediately throw on a dress, settling into a quick breakfast of pancake and waffles before heading out to the room and straight to my workplace. The palace seems quiet, and I guess that all of the guests must have returned or are still sleeping. I get to my studio, gazing upon the wedding dress upon the mannequin.
At first, I enjoyed creating this masterpiece, but every time I remember what's it for, my heart breaks. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot. I shake my head, take a deep breath, and immediately get to work. I stitch up loose ends, smooth out and add laces and embroideries wherever necessary. By mid-afternoon, I'm done with most of the stitches, and the dress is already taking shape. At this rate, I'll be done a lot quicker. All that's left now is beading the dress and adding extra finishing details. That's usually my least favorite part of making dresses as it's the most time-consuming.
Stretching my stiff muscles, I let out a yawn, rubbing my eyes. I need a break; I'm already tired. My phone dings, and when I pick it up, my heart skips a beat when I see it's a message from Marcus. We had exchanged numbers last night just before he climbed out the window of my room. Despite how wrong this feels, I can't help the excitement that courses through my veins as I click open the message and read it.
