bChapter /bb195 /b

bChapter /bb195 /b

ISADORA’S POV

My shift felt like it would never end. I kept ncing at the small wall clock above the cash register, the seconds ticking away slower than usual, taunting me. The auction was probably wrapping up by now, and here I was, stuck behind the counter serving people who couldn’t even bother to say bthank /bbyou/b.

Every polite smile I forced felt heavy on my face. Every cup I handed over felt like it was draining my time, my patience, my sanity. My mind wasn’t hereb. /bbIt /bwas already at the auction center, already thinking about what I’d say to Adrian if–no, when I saw him.

“Large cappino with an extra shot, please,” a woman with too much perfume demanded, barely ncing at me.

I punched the order into the register harder than I should have. “That’ll be $5.80,” I said tly.

She gave me a look, that look rich people give when they think someone like me should worship the ground they walk on. i“/iCould you hurry? I’mte.”

I bit my tongue, jaw tightening. So am I,dy, I wanted to scream. Instead, I turned to make her drink, mming the portafilter into the machine hard enough that it rattled.

Another customer, some suited guy scrolling on his phone, mumbled his order without even meeting my eyes. My patience cracked a little more with every passing minute. I checked the time again. The auction was almost over.

Come on, Adrian, just stay there a little longer… talk to those arrogant men you always hang around with… don’t leave yet.

By the time the lunch rush thinned out, my forced politeness had disappearedpletely. A man asked for almond milk, and I snapped, “We’re out,” even though we weren’t. Another woman asked if I could make her drink ‘extra hot‘ and I practically rolled my eyes right in front of her.

It wasn’t professional, I knew that. But my nerves were stretched thin, and all I could think of was Adrian walking out of the auction hall, leaving me with nothing but regret.

As soon as the line cleared, my boss–a heavyset woman with sharp eyes and hair pulled into a tight bun–stormed over.

“Isadora,” she hissed, “you need to fix your attitude. I don’t care what’s bothering you, but you don’t bring it behind my counter. Got it?”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to argue. “Yes, ma’am.”

She stared at me for another moment, then shook her head and stomped back into her office. I let out a shaky breath, my heart pounding. Great. Just great. First day, and I’d already ruined it. But I didn’t have time to think about that now.

When my shift finally ended, I ripped off the apron, grabbed my bag, and bolted out the back door before anyone could say another word to me. I rushed down the cracked sidewalk, my chest tight with panic.

The sun was starting to sink, painting everything in orange. My legs felt heavy, and sweat trickled down my back. I didn’t care about the cheap dress I wore–it wasn’t even ironed properly. None of it mattered.

I just needed to get there before Adrian left. I gged down the first taxi I saw, nearly tripping over my own feet as I yanked the door open.

“Auction center, please. As fast as you can,” I blurted out, barely catching my breath.

The driver raised an eyebrow but nodded. The engine growled to life, and we lurched into traffic.

I tapped my phone nervously, trying to distract myselfb, /bbut every minute felt like an hour. What if I’m toote? My thoughts spiraled. What if he’s already

gone?

The driver finally pulled up to the wide front steps of the auction center, its white pirs towering above the crowd. My heart sank the moment I saw people already leaving, some carrying brochures, some chatting excitedly.

bI /bbthrust /bba /bfew crumpled bills at the driver, barely waiting for my change before pushing the door open and running bup /bthe steps.

I scanned every bface/b–men in tailored suits, women in sparkling gowns, security guards in dark uniforms–but none of them bwas /bhim.

bI /bapproached ba /bstaff member in a ck zer. “Excuse me, did Adrian Westwood already leaveb?/bb” /bI asked, my voice shaky.

bShe /bchecked something on her tablet and nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am. He left about ten minutes ago.”

Ten minutes. The word’s echoed in my head like a cruel joke. Just ten minutes. If I hadn’t snapped at those customersb, /bif I’d left just a little earlier

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails bit into my palms. My chest burned, frustration bubbling up like acid. All this running, all this worrying, and I still

missed him.

I turned away, my eyes stinging, and made my way through the thinning crowd. My head throbbed, and my throat felt tight. I needed a moment to calm down before I did something stupid.

The women’s bathroom was near the side hallway, quieter than the rest of the building. I pushed the door open, my reflection greeting me from the mirror–messy hair, red cheeks, and eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Get it together, Isadora, I told myself. It’s not over. There’ll be another chance.

I stepped closer to the sink, turning on the tap. The cold water stung against my warm skin, grounding me for a moment. I took a slow breath, trying bto /bsteady my racing heart.

Then, as I turned to head toward the paper towels, someone brushed past me, their shoulder hitting mine though it felt like it was just a brush.

I stopped, the sting of the impact snapping what little patience I had left. I turned sharply, the words spilling out before I could stop them. b“/bbHey/b, bwatch /bwhere you’re going!”

The woman paused, her head turning toward me. And for a heartbeat, I blinked in confusion.

She wore a mask. An actual, elegant mask covering the top half of her face. Deep red, with a faint sparkle that matched her stunning gown.

I couldn’t see her full expression, but her posture was confident, almost dismissive. The air around her felt charged, as if she wasn’t someone used bto /bapologizing.

My breath caught. “What’s with the mask?” I blurted out, my voice low, edged with irritation and curiosity.

She didn’t answer right away, and the silence stretched between us, thick and tense. My heart pounded louder than before, part anger, part intrigue.

She tilted her head, and though I couldn’t see her eyes clearly, I felt the weight of her gaze.

In that quiet, marble–tiled bathroom, something shifted. I had ino /iidea who she wasb, /bor why she wore a mask