Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
Degree, muscles, zero ego.
He was practically gift-wrapped.
I cleared my throat.
“The pay’s shit. You might want to think about it.”
“I don’t need to. I can start today.” He let out a long breath.
“It’s hard to get hired right now. I need experience. Big firms feel cold and fake. I probably wouldn’t fit in anyway.”There was no performance in his voice. Just quiet, straightforward honesty.
Yvaine nodded.
I gave a quick one in return.
Prescott stayed.
He got to work fast, broom in one hand, box of microfibre cloths in the other, shadowing Priya like they were a cleaning tag team.
He bounced between floors without complaining once.
I stood by the shell of stone samples and watched his back move around the room.
His frame filled the doorway.
His trainers squeaked on the tiles.
Something about him nagged at me.
I leaned closer to Yvaine.
“Don’t you think he looks familiar?”She gave him a glance, then shrugged.
“Not to me. I’d remember a face like that. But I’ll poke around, see if there’s a rich family in Skyline with the surname Williams. Maybe he’s some heir slumming it.”
“Go for it.”I kept looking, but whoever he reminded me of stayed buried somewhere in the back of my brain.
I gave up trying to place it.
The studio, which I’d christened Elean Joie, opened quietly on a Tuesday.
Things started to fall into a rhythm.
Word got out that I’d opened my own space, and Octavia Grey messaged offering to send over clients.
I said thank you before she could change her mind.
At the same time, I was putting together my first draft submission for The Aureate Awards.
Designs, specs, technical sheets.
Everything had to be ready and clean before the deadline if I wanted to get shortlisted.
While I buried myself in CAD files and wax moulds, Yvaine threw herself into her own thing.
She’d decided her cake shop needed a full revamp.
She was planning to turn it into one of those glittery influencer spots people queue outside for selfies.
She hired a design team, met with them constantly, argued over colour palettes and flooring samples.
The more chaotic it got, the more she seemed to thrive on it.
Still, she didn’t forget my birthday.
On the day, she launched a one-woman delivery war on my studio.
Bags kept coming, handles biting into her arms, heels clicking across the floor.
“I know you don’t need anything. So by my logic, that means you need everything.”She dumped the gifts across the couch, the stools, the console table.
There were handbags, necklaces, perfume bottles, skincare sets, jumpers, caps, candles, fucking nail files.
It looked like a department store had exploded in my workspace.
“I got all the newest drops. No cake, though. You hate birthdays. So figured I’d be practical instead.”I stood by the door with my arms folded, blinking at the pile like it might start moving.
“You scare me sometimes,” I muttered.
The sheer volume of it threw me off.
Yvaine had always been generous, but this was something else entirely.
It looked like she was stocking me for the next fiscal year.
“This is fucking excessive.”She grinned and held up a box of lipstick.
“Perks of being my best friend.”Then she leaned in, dropped her voice.
“My parents heard about the cake shop. They’re thrilled I’m finally doing something. Gave me a stupid amount of spending money. I couldn’t get through it fast enough. Figured I might as well unload some of it on you. Oh-does your husband even know it’s your birthday today? Has he done anything?”
“He has. Didn’t I tell you?”
“Tell me what? What did I miss?”I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling ridiculously embarrassed.
“Nyx Collective.”
“What about it?”
“It’s, um, sort of, um, mine now.”
“What?” Yvaine’s eyes grew wide.
“Yours? What do you mean?”
“He bought the company. The shares are under my name.”
“Huh.” Yvaine slumped back. She swept a limp arm over the mountain of gift bags.
“So I lose.”
“It’s not a contest.”Yvaine glared.
“Of course it is. What else did he do? Book the Aman Suite for your birthday party? Buy you the Pink Star diamond?
“No and no, though I wouldn’t mind giving my firstborn and last and my soul and all my tomorrows for a glimpse of the Pink Star.”I drooled at the thought of touching the 59.60-carat, vivid pink, flawless diamond.
“Any plans tonight? Why do I even ask?” Yvaine waved off her own question.
“Let me guess. Candlelit dinner by the bay, live string quartet in the background. I know, I know. I won’t be the third wheel.”I said nothing.
Actually, no, I didn’t have any plans tonight.
Sebastian hadn’t said anything when I left the house this morning.
And so far, half the day had passed without a message from him.
Maybe he thought the share transfer agreement had said “happy birthday” loud and clear.
By evening, Priya and Prescott packed up and left.
Yvaine got a call and dashed off in her ridiculous boots, leaving the studio dead quiet.
I shut my laptop, stacked the loose sketch sheets, reached for the light switch-
And stopped.
Through the glass, someone appeared on the pavement outside.
Alone. Stepping out of a car.
Long black coat. Straight shoulders. No umbrella.
Streetlights flicked on behind him as he passed, one by one, as if his presence had triggered them.
Warm yellow light slid across his shoulders, caught in his hair, followed him like his personal ring light.
The street behind him buzzed with engines and shouting and crosswalk signals.
He didn’t look at any of it. His eyes stayed on me through the glass.
I didn’t move.
He pushed the door open.
The bell overhead gave a short, clear chime.
Cold air followed him in.
He walked straight to me and wrapped his gloved fingers around mine.
“Come with me.”He tugged, I followed.
Qutside, the traffic was louder, headlights sliding past, people jostling to get through.
We stopped on the edge of the pavement.
His hand stayed on mine.
He leaned down so close I felt his breath.
“Look up.”I lifted my head.