Once, my paranoid love

Minutes ago, as Mr. Huston headed for the bathroom, a surge of restlessness overcame me. I couldn’t resist the urge to see the world outside our room. The thought of Pom, the absence of anyone else, and the daring nature of my strapless dress left me with a sense of vulnerability and unease.

After hastily opening the door, I stepped out onto the threshold, peering into the hallway. It was eerily quiet, with no sign of any other occupants. A sense of isolation gripped me, and I couldn’t help but wonder where everyone had gone.

I silently questioned whether it would be appropriate to venture downstairs in my current attire. The sultry nature of the dress made me hesitant, and I feared the judgment of others if they were to see me in such a revealing state.

I bit my bottom lip, torn between the desire to explore and the fear of judgment. It was a moment of uncertainty and self-doubt, one that left me grappling with my own insecurities.

Finally, I decided to seek something more suitable to wear in the closet. With a mixture of relief and trepidation, I moved towards the wardrobe, hoping to find a garment that would allow me to venture downstairs with a greater sense of comfort and modesty.

Just as I began rummaging through the closet, the sound of running water suddenly ceased. My heart skipped a beat as I realized that Mr. Huston had finished showering. The abrupt halt of the water served as a reminder of our proximity and the need to be discreet in my actions.

Panicked, I abandoned my search for appropriate clothing and rushed back to the bed. With a sense of urgency, I wrapped myself tightly in a blanket, attempting to hide the revealing dress that had caused me so much anxiety.

As I sat on the bed, wrapped in the security of the blanket, I couldn’t help but reflect on the complexities of the situation.

As Mr. Huston returned from the bathroom, his broad shoulders draped in a towel, his eyes widened in surprise as they fell upon my wrapped form on the bed.

I met his gaze briefly before quickly averting my eyes, my cheeks flushing with a hint of shyness. His presence was commanding, and I couldn’t help but notice the undeniable allure of his physique.

He was undeniably well-built, his strong, toned physique exuding an aura of strength and confidence. It was impossible not to acknowledge that he was an attractive man. My thoughts wandered for a moment as I observed the water droplets trickling down from his wet hair and his veins standing out prominently on his hands and arms, adding to his rugged charm.

As Mr. Huston’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had noticed the fleeting appreciation in my eyes.

“Elena, are you all right?” he inquired, genuine concern etched across his features.

I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing as I grappled with what to say. I couldn’t continue to hide beneath the blanket indefinitely, and the thought of revealing the revealing dress beneath filled me with embarrassment.

“What am I supposed to say?” I thought, a hint of anxiety tugging at my thoughts. But I knew that if I continued to sit in silence, he would eventually piece together what had transpired.

Summoning a semblance of courage, I slightly bit my lower lip and looked up at him with a timid expression. “Mr. Huston, may you please call the maid?” I requested, my voice trembling with a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability.

His response was immediate, and his concern for my well-being was evident. “Do you need anything?” he asked, his tone gentle and understanding.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and replied hurriedly, “Yeah.” I knew that I couldn’t prolong the moment any further. It was time to face the situation and confront the discomfort and awkwardness that had arisen.

“You can tell me, Elena,” Mr. Huston encouraged, his voice warm and inviting as he approached me.

My heart raced as his presence drew nearer, and my thoughts raced in a whirlwind of uncertainty. “Damn it,” I cursed under my breath, my anxiety intensifying. I had been caught off guard, and I knew that I couldn’t reveal my momentary attraction to him.

“I-I mean, nooo, Mr. Huston,” I stammered, attempting to divert the conversation. “Most of my belongings are in another room,” I added hastily, hoping to steer the discussion away from the subject of my dress and the unspoken tension that had hung in the air.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

Mr. Huston, however, persisted with his line of questioning. “Didn’t they arrange your dress?” he inquired, his curiosity evident.

“No, they didn’t.” I began to respond, but before I could explain further, Mr. Huston interrupted with a probing question. “Don’t you like those dresses, Elena?” His eyes held a hint of confusion, as if he had misunderstood my discomfort.

“You misunderstood me, Mr. Houston,” I clarified, a note of frustration in my voice. I wanted to convey that it wasn’t a matter of personal preference but rather a sense of modesty and propriety that had led me to seek a change of clothing.

Derek looked at me with a furrowed brow, his curiosity evident in his expression. “Then?” he probed, wanting a further explanation for my discomfort.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to address the issue directly. It was a conversation that needed to happen, and I couldn’t continue to evade it. “Mr. Huston, those clothes aren’t appropriate for outside wear,” I began, my voice steady but filled with a sense of vulnerability. I glanced down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze as I continued, “Those are far too revealing.”

The admission hung in the air, a statement of my discomfort and unease with the wardrobe choices that had been made for me. It was a moment of candor, an acknowledgment of the mismatch between my sense of modesty and the clothing that had been provided.

As Derek absorbed my words, I couldn’t help but wonder how he would react to it.

To be continued.