A Girl's Quiet Ambition

"I want to ask you something."

Wes pulled Mia in his arms, one hand encircling her shoulders, the other cradling her head. She let out a surprised gasp, but she remained there and leaned against him. For a moment, the soft hum of the garden draped over them. He took a whiff of her scent, which reminded him of her favorite strawberry flavor, before speaking again.

"Would you like to live here with me, Mia?”

She stilled.

Around them, leaves swayed and petals bent in the wind, as if in anticipation of her answer. He felt her fingers curl into the fabric of his suit jacket, her head nestling into his neck. The memory of her disappearance ripped through his mind, and he held her tighter. 

He tried to focus on the fragrance of flowers and the sound of rustling grass, on anything that wasn’t the maddening fear that clawed at him whenever she was out of his sight.

“Please come with me. I promise I'll give you anything, everything you ask for," he begged now.

“Wes,” she breathed out, “I know you’re worried, and I appreciate it more than I can tell, but… Um, well, living together feels like something married couples do, or at least those further along than us. So, uh, I was thinking I could move somewhere else instead.”

His mouth curved down a fraction, but it went unnoticed as she continued, “You know, that time, I… Even though I was so afraid, I didn’t let it get to me. I'd done all I could to save myself. If it's me from the past, I wouldn’t even be able to move. I guess I’ve changed, and that's why… You don’t have to worry so much, Wes.”

Something dark and primal stirred in him. The idea of her somewhere he couldn’t see or reach spun a cold thread of thought—keep her here behind locked gates and guarded walls, where she’d be safest, most protected. Nothing and nobody would touch her again.

‘Yes, I should just…’ Wes stopped short, then pulled Mia closer and hid his face in her hair.

Forcing a slow breath through his nose, he banished the notion before it could settle. That would be like trapping her in a luxurious cage, he realized. Unsure of what would come out if he spoke now, he stayed quiet until she had to step away to look at him.

“Are you angry?” Before he could respond, she reached up and tucked one of the flowers she’d plucked earlier into his hair, then another, and another. “There. Much less scary now.”

He smiled despite himself, and the tension in his chest uncoiled. “You’re ruining my image, princess.”

“Aren't you the ‘Sun Prince’?” she quipped, adding one last bloom before moving back to admire her work.

“No, I'm the ‘Lonely Prince,’ the ‘Sad Prince,’ the ‘Prince Rejected by His Princess.’”

She giggled, “You’re so dramatic. Is that your way of convincing me?”

“Are you now? I can do it with hugs and kisses, too." He smirked.

"You can't when I'm trying to get you ready for the ball. Wait, let me get more flowers."

Mia didn't see the way Wes stared at her with helpless yearning, or how the possessive edge dulled at the warmth of her smile and laughter.

She turned, meaning to reach for another cluster of flowers, but he caught her wrist. With a quick tug, he pulled her off balance and down into the ground with him. The grass and petals cushioned their fall, spilling color into the air as they landed.

“Wes!” she laughed, the sky reflected in her eyes.

He rolled onto his side, propping himself above her. “Stay with me.”

She went quiet, her gaze softening, before she laughed again, “Is that a command, my prince?”

His mouth arched up into a smile, slopsided with giddy affection at how she called him hers. Instead of answering, he claimed her lips with his, and in an instant, a restless heat seized him. She shivered for a second, then returned the kiss and tried to match his fervor.

The world narrowed to her touch and taste, to how she fit so perfectly in his arms that it made his chest ache. His hand slid from her wrist to her waist, lifting her a bit and pressing her closer against him.

Her breath hitched as he deepened the kiss, no longer hiding his fierce, aching need to keep this moment, to keep her right here with him. When he finally pulled back and looked at her, he found her cheeks flushed and her eyes glistening, every bit as vibrant as the blooms all around her.

“I’m not going anywhere, Wes,” she whispered breathlessly, as though understanding everything that went unspoken because words alone couldn’t convey them. “But soon… I can be with you soon, so please… Please wait a bit more.”

Wes owned movie sets, runways, boardrooms—the world itself.

But all that power and control lost meaning before her. He may have been the one with a kingdom, but she and she alone ruled him. This moment made that more certain than ever.

And if she asked him to wait, no matter how long or what for, he would do so with his heart and soul bare open.

---

The late afternoon light seeped through the tall, arched windows of the workshop, basking rows of mannequins and racks of fabric in red-orange hues.

Faint traces of the smell of cotton and paint hovered over a worktable full of sketches, mood boards, and pinned swatches—a small gallery of creativity in progress. There was only one week left before these designs hit the runway, yet they were still just in the cutting and assembly stage.

Mia was now rushing her preparations, having already fallen behind the other finalists of L'Atelier's fashion competition.

Each finished embellishment reminded her of time lost to unfortunate events, but she forged ahead, determined not to let such setbacks ruin the vision taking shape before her. In pursuit of dreams and promises alike, she raced against the clock and poured her all into her craft, even as the mounting pressure around her threatened to unravel both her nerves and creations.

“I know you can do it, Mia. Just don’t push yourself too hard.” Jenny’s voice came from her phone, which she remembered was still on an ongoing call.

Mia offered a smile in reassurance, though she couldn’t see it. “I-I’m okay, Jenny. It’s busy, but I still have time to rest. Thanks again for checking on me.”

“Busy’s good, I guess. Do you need any help?”

“I’ve got a lot to catch up on, but I’ll manage,” she said, and at her friend's tentative silence, she added, ”A-And I’ll be careful.”

“Tell me if you need anything. Seriously.”

Even as the call ended, the concern in Jenny’s voice lingered. It was a quiet reminder of past turbulences that weren't quite yet over. For now, though, Mia had work to do.

The competition would be a spotlighted segment of the show in summer, where every participant would present their collection to a line of renowned critics, industry insiders, and fashion enthusiasts from around the world—a collection that captured their essence as a designer.

‘To be honest, the crowd makes me more nervous than the contest itself,’ she thought, cringing. ‘But I have to do my best for that grand prize, for myself and Wes!’

“Mia, dear~” a high-pitched voice pulled her out of her frantic rhythm, and she turned to find L’Atelier's owner at the door. “It’s almost evening. Shouldn't you be packing up already?”

Liam's gaze swept from her and to the room, taking in its current state. Claire stepped in next, then smiled and waved, which she returned.

“S-Sorry, I’m behind schedule,” Mia admitted, motioning to the mess around her. “I barely have time to finish before the competition.”

Claire walked towards her to check. “I don't know much about this, but I'm sure you'll do fine. You already did it once, and as I said back then, you've got potential.”

“T-Thank you.” She smiled in gratitude, blushing. 

Liam approached her as well. “Though I can't do anything but prepare the stage your works deserve, I can give advice on other things. Just ask away~"

“Oh, um, then…” Mia glanced away, fiddling with her fingers. “C-Can you tell me how to appear confident in front of people?”