Chapter 320
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Chapter 320:
“A gift from Mr. Collins, for Ms. Bella,” the secretary announced with a crisp bow, then turned and left.
Bella shrieked — a sound that could have shattered glass. She threw herself at the box, hands trembling visibly as she untied the ribbon and pulled off the lid.
Inside, nestled on a bed of tissue paper, was a Himalayan Crocodile Birkin bag. One of the rarest and most expensive handbags on the planet.
Bella looked as though she might faint. She clutched the bag to her chest and rushed back to the phone.
“Gaston!” she yelled, genuine tears in her eyes. “I am your loyal soldier! If Jocelyn even looks at another man, I will tackle her to the ground and call you immediately p>
Jocelyn dropped her face into her hands. Completely mortified. Her best friend had just been bought off with a handbag.
Gaston’s deep laughter filled the room once more.
“Make sure you leave work early today, Jocelyn,” Gaston said, his tone shifting to something far more intimate. “I will be home early p>
The call disconnected.
Yo𝘶𝘳 𝘥a𝘪𝗹𝘺 𝗱𝗈ѕе о𝗳 𝗇o𝘷el𝗌 𝘰𝘯 𝗴𝖺𝗅ո𝘰𝘷е𝗹𝘴.c𝘰𝘮
Jocelyn looked over at Bella, who was currently pressing her lips to the crocodile leather.
Despite the absurdity of it all, a profound sense of security settled deep into Jocelyn’s bones. Gaston wasn’t simply using his wealth to dismantle her enemies. He was using it to build a fortress of loyalty around her — aggressively, shamelessly, and without apology.
She was terrifyingly close to surrendering to it completely.
By late afternoon, the autumn sun had begun to dip below the Manhattan skyline, casting long golden shadows across the city.
Jocelyn left the hotel early. She had received a text from Grandma Wolfe saying that she and Elbert Collins were attending the Met Gala charity dinner that evening. The massive penthouse would be completely empty — Gaston had even given the private chef and housekeeping staff the night off.
Jocelyn felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to do something normal. Something domestic.
She wanted to thank Gaston. Not just for the insane billboard, but for the heavy, unyielding shield he had placed between her and the rest of the world.
She stopped at the Whole Foods in Columbus Circle and bought two prime-cut Tomahawk steaks, fresh truffles, and organic asparagus. When she returned to the penthouse, the silence of the empty apartment felt intimate rather than lonely.
She changed out of her stiff corporate suit and into a soft, oversized cashmere sweater and leggings. She tied her hair into a messy bun, wrapped a pristine white apron around her waist, and stood at the vast marble kitchen island, humming softly as she seasoned the meat.
At exactly seven o’clock, the private elevator chimed.
Gaston stepped into the entryway, exhausted from a brutal day of corporate warfare. He reached up and loosened his silk tie as he moved toward the living room — and then stopped.
Sizzling butter. Seared garlic. Roasted meat.
He followed the smell silently to the kitchen doorway and froze.