Diamond in the Rough

Wes watched from the side as Mia took charge in the dressing room.

It was such a pleasant thrill to witness her in action again. This time, it was also convenient since she’d easily dismissed how he’d changed his voice in front of Claire and Juliette earlier. It would be poor timing if they recognized who he was and exposed him.

“What are you doing, Wes?”

Maybe his act wasn't that convincing after all.

Claire strode towards him, her arms crossed and expression unamused. He kept the mask and the bouquet, yet she still saw through him despite being occupied with her wardrobe repairs. Juliette, on the other hand, appeared to be still unaware and too busy to notice.

“Even a world-class actor can’t get anything past you, I see,” he chuckled, leaning against the wall.

“You give me way too much credit. We saw each other an hour ago, so I knew what you were wearing. But those flowers weren’t with you then, weren’t they? Or that girl.”

“Found her lost backstage, so I helped her out. Speaking of, it seems like you need my assistance here more than they do back there. Care to tell me what's up?”

“Lucas is coming.”

Wes stilled at the name. Claire chose not to elaborate.

She deliberately left out the details. The mere mention of that man already explained the situation—the new bodyguard, the damaged dress, the missing staff. He figured it out simply by recalling who he was.

Lucas Kingsley was a business tycoon who amassed power through ventures both legitimate and dubious.

Anyone who caught his eye would realize that ambition was a leash, and he held the end. Whether it be through predatory contracts or exploitative deals, he turned career opportunities into traps with no escape.

Claire shared a history with him, and the remnants of their past tumultuous connection shadowed her up to the present, undermining all her hard work.

“Who invited him?” Wes grumbled under his breath.

Claire frowned and lowered her gaze. “Father.”

“What?”

“Claire! You’ve got to see this!”

At Juliette’s call, the two of them exchanged one final look that ended the conversation. Claire walked back to her manager, who had stopped fretting and was now bubbling with excitement. Wes followed behind her, deciding to store the information away for now in favor of seeing his girlfriend’s handiwork.

“Ms. Mia has outdone herself! Look!” The woman lifted a tiny bundle of flowers which, unlike the bouquet he’s holding, was made out of satin. “Ten minutes! Less, actually.”

Both of them were stunned to hear Juliette’s words. The satin flowers shimmered under the ceiling lights, their delicate folds clearly crafted by care and patience, showing no hint that they’d been thrown together in a rush. They continued staring at it in awe until Mia emerged from another room with a sewing kit.

“Ah! T-Those are for hiding whatever I can’t fix. I got the fabric from the spare dresses.”

“Shouldn’t you do the gown first to see how many of these you’ll need?” Claire questioned.

“I, um, already saw the damage. That’s enough for me to know what’s repairable and not.”

Once again, they were astonished by the girl’s ingenuity. In less than ten minutes, she managed to assess the problem, devise a solution, improvise an alternative, and prepare the outfit for mending. To anyone, that would be considered an expert’s level of work.

Wes couldn’t help but feel proud of her.

“That’s fast,” Claire breathed. “Are you really just a delivery girl?”

Mia flushed. “Um, I… I-I do commissions and practice a lot.”

“I would think you’re already a pro. You've got great potential.” At the compliment, her gaze shone while her cheeks turned redder, much to Wes's amusement.

“You think eight minutes are enough?” Juliette chimed in.

Mia nodded. “I-I’ll do my best! Let’s have her wear the gown while I sew.”

A steady momentum swept over the room as Mia and the others fell into a work rhythm. Wes had been raring to see her cast her magic with a needle, and it hadn't at all occurred to him to leave. Only when Claire turned to glare at him did he realize they needed some privacy.

‘Damn it, Claire. You owe me one for this.’

---

Long, straight blonde hair, serene eyes the color of sapphires, and fair, smooth skin—the woman named Claire Ashthorne was a beauty to behold.

Because of that, Mia had found it a bit hard to concentrate back in the dressing room. ‘She’s mesmerizing!’

But she had persevered, aware there were only a few minutes left before the curtain call. It’s a good thing that wasn’t her first time working with someone extraordinarily attractive; she had experience with Wes. After much effort and persistence, she had finished both restoring and enhancing the gown’s design.

“You’re a heavensent, Ms. Mia! It’s more beautiful now! Thank you so, so much!” Juliette had wept from sheer happiness while Claire had offered a more reserved expression of gratitude. “It is very lovely. Thank you for helping us. Let me know how to pay you back.”

They both gave her their contact information, and with it a free ticket to the piano recital.

She wanted to decline at first, having never been to any concerts before. Wes insisted she accept, however, and she did when he said he'd be there too. She planned to head straight home anyway, with the delivery being her last task for the day.

“Well done. You were incredible,” she heard Wes whisper from the seat beside her.

Through the dimness that veiled the upper box seats, she could see him staring. He had put on his mask again for some reason, not allowing her to see his expression. But from the warm and tender look in his gaze, she could tell how much he meant those words.

Saccharine music flowed across the hall. On stage, Claire performed with graceful mastery and a natural elegance that turned the piano into a companion rather than an instrument. For a moment, Mia listened to the melody as she let the unprecedented chain of events settle into her head.

Then, she took a deep breath and glanced at Wes. “E-Everything is thanks to you.”

His eyes rounded. He seemed bemused.

“Um, I… I probably wouldn't have stepped in to help if you weren't around. Your presence gives me courage, Wes. I also learned from the time I’d helped you that I could actually do it, so…” Her blushing face inched closer to his. “...T-Thank you.”

She felt him hold her hand and give it a squeeze, making her flinch in surprise.

It hadn't been long since they started going out, so she’s still not used to sudden displays of affection. But she's relieved to find that he wasn't letting go, that he didn't take her reaction as a sign of discomfort. To show she welcomed the gesture, she leaned her head on his shoulder, fingers intertwining together.

He squeezed her hand again, gentle and loving, before he placed a kiss on it.

“B-By the way,” she stammered out, now getting a tad too flustered. “Why were you talking like that earlier? Your voice kinda changed. Were you pretending to be someone else?”

He twitched slightly. “Uhhh…”

“Is it because you're supposed to be working and Ms. Ashthorne was there? Ah! And you know, I feel I've heard her last name before.” She flicked her gaze upward in thought. “But I can't recall...”

The keys hit a clear, resounding note that vibrated all around. It intensified and soon fell from its peak, bringing the show to completion. Yet somehow, a layer of intrigue still hung in the air.

Wes remained silent until a round of applause rose from the audience, and only then did he give a response that the noise ended up burying under.