Chapter 43
43
~Elara’s POV
The discussion about the designs started almost immediately. Lira and Ronan pulled out the folders, flipping through pages, pointing out seams, colors, and fabrics. Darlon sat back, watching quietly, while I remained still, holding my own notebook and pen.
As they talked, I realized the designs they were presenting were… substandard. Not even close to what I would consider professional or modern. I didn’t say anything at first, just listened, letting the room fill with their chatter. I stayed quiet, my mind racing with ideas, sketches, and corrections.
At one point, I got up. “Would anyone like something to drink?” I asked softly.
Darlon looked at me, his eyes warm and approving. “My wife, always thinking of others,” he said, giving me a small smile. He caught the attention of Lira and Ronan with that one word, and I felt my heart flutter, the way he said it, like it wasn’t just a title, it was real.
I poured water, arranged glasses, and handed them out carefully. Darlon took his glass, gave me a nod. “Thank you, my wife,” he said again, and I almost melted right there.
Then he leaned back, tilting his head toward me. “What do you think about these designs p>
I hesitated, unsure. “Can I… speak my mind?” I asked quietly.
“Of course,” he replied, his voice soft but steady. “Tell me what you really think p>
I cleared my throat, gripping my notebook tighter. “Honestly… these designs,” I began, glancing down at the sketches laid out on the table, “they’re… not that great.” My words felt heavier as I continued, “The cuts aren’t clean, some fabrics don’t match the intended style, and a few patterns feel outdated p>
Darlon’s eyes stayed locked on mine, encouraging me without saying a word. “Go on,” he murmured.
I hesitated for a second, then added, “I think I can make some sketches that might improve them, if you want p>
He smiled, that confident, proud smile that made my heart flutter. “I want that. Show me p>
I quickly grabbed my sketchpad and began redrawing, my hands moving faster as ideas flowed. When I finished, I handed the sketches to him, trying not to fidget.
He leaned over, studying each line, each detail. His smile widened with every page he turned. “These… these are incredible,” he said, looking up at me. “My wife is brilliant p>
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I couldn’t meet his eyes for a second. I murmured a quiet “thank you,” unsure what else to say.
Darlon didn’t stop there. He turned toward Lira and Ronan, his expression suddenly firm. “My wife will be part of the design team. I expect you both to accord her the same respect you give me p>
Lira froze, her eyes snapping to me, her jaw tightening. Ronan blinked a few times, looking like he’d swallowed a lemon. After a moment, both of them bowed slightly, murmuring, “Yes, Alpha Darlon p>
Darlon straightened his jacket, giving me a small nod. “The meeting is over. Let’s go p>
I followed him toward the door, still clutching my sketchpad. Just as we reached it, I heard Ronan’s voice, hesitant but insistent. “Elara… can we talk for a few minutes p>
Darlon stopped instantly, turning on him like a hawk. His jaw tightened, and I felt the intensity of his glare even from a few feet away. “Talk to my wife behind my back?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Do you have any idea how disrespectful that is p>
His face darkened, jaw clenched, and I could hear the growl in his voice. “How dare you want to talk to my wife behind me? Do you want to get yourself killed p>
Ronan’s face went pale. “I…I just wanted to discuss something for business, nothing more, I swear p>
I placed a hand on Darlon’s arm. “It’s fine, Darlon. It’s just about work,” I said softly, trying to calm him.
He gave me a sharp glance, then softened slightly. “Are you really okay with this?” he asked quietly, his voice low, careful, like he was testing the waters.
I nodded, trying to steady the quick beating of my heart. “Yes. I’ll be fine,” I murmured, forcing myself to meet his eyes for a brief second before looking down at my hands.
He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against my forehead. The touch was light, gentle, and electric all at once. My chest went numb, my thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm, and for a moment I forgot where I was, what I was doing, everything except the warmth of him and the strange safety it brought. Then he straightened, his expression shifting back to that calm, commanding presence, and without another word, he turned and left the room.
The moment he was gone, I exhaled, relief washing over me like a wave breaking at the shore. I leaned back slightly, letting my shoulders drop for the first time in what felt like hours. But there was no time to linger in that relief. I could feel eyes on me, waiting, judging, and I forced myself to focus again.
Ronan shifted awkwardly across the room, his hands fidgeting with the edge of a folder. “So… what did you want to discuss?” I asked gently, keeping my voice even.
Before he could answer, a sudden movement drew my attention. Lira stormed toward me, her face flushed, her eyes sharp like knives. “Elara! Leave my man alone! Or I won’t hesitate to fight you p>
I opened my mouth, wanting to respond, to say something, anything that would diffuse the situation, but she didn’t give me the chance. Her words hung in the air like a storm cloud, then she spun on her heel and left, the sharp echo of her heels on the floor leaving a ringing tension in the room.
I blinked, stunned, and let out a quiet breath. My chest was still tight, my heart hammering from the confrontation, and I had to remind myself that I hadn’t done anything wrong. Not really.
Ronan shifted again, this time closer, his expression uncertain. “Elara… are you…are you okay?” His voice was soft, hesitant, almost gentle, and I could hear the worry there.
I cleared my throat, straightening in my chair, and let my voice carry the firmness I wanted to feel. “If it’s not about work, I need to get back to my tasks.” There was no anger, no malice, just steady resolve, though my hands still trembled slightly against the notebook.
He hesitated, staring at me for what felt like an eternity, like he was trying to read my mind, my heart, my intentions. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping just slightly, a quiet acknowledgment. “I’ll text you, then,” he said softly, his tone carrying a mix of frustration and resignation. Then he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
I finally let myself breathe, deep and slow. The sudden quiet felt heavy, but it was a calm kind of heavy, the type that makes your muscles relax, and your mind start to clear. Alone in the room, I sank back into my chair, my fingers brushing lightly over the edges of my notebook.
The pages stared back at me, a jumble of designs, sketches, and notes. But my mind was elsewhere, spinning through the events of the day.