"Come in."
The door opened, and Isabella peeked her head in, wearing a sweet smile. She was dressed in a pale pink cashmere dress, her makeup flawless, practically glowing.
"Such beautiful weather—don't waste it cooped up in here." She sat on the bed's edge and took my hand. "You look pale. You need some fresh air."
Isabella was staying here at Kholod's invitation. He'd said the manor was too quiet, that she could stay as long as she wanted. Ofcourse. In his mind, she was now the savior. The whole thing was absurd, but I should blame Kholod, not her.
"Come on!" Isabella pulled me to my feet without waiting for an answer. "Stop moping around—you'll make yourself sick."
"Fine." I finally got up, threw on thick clothes, and followed Isabella outside.
Light snow dusted the garden, flakes settling gently on the trimmed hedges. I pulled my coat tighter as we walked side by side down the freshly de-iced path.
"You know what? Yesterday I saw this gorgeous new Valentino gown," Isabella said excitedly. "The cut was absolutely perfect! It would look stunning on you. Should we order one?"
"No, thanks," I declined. "You know my closet's already overflowing."
"But those are all Kholod's picks, right?" She blinked at me. "A woman needs her own style. Can't just let men choose everything."
I didn't respond. She was right. But I had zero interest in those dresses.
"This manor is absolutely stunning!" Isabella looked around. "I couldn't sleep last night—I kept thinking how living here must feel like a dream!"
"It's okay. I don't find it particularly beautiful." Very typical Kholod style—cold and monotonous.
"I completely disagree." She laughed. "You can tell everything here was carefully designed. Look at how those trees are shaped! Noelle, you're so lucky!"
Just then, Kholod appeared from another path. He wore a charcoal coat with the collar turned up, making his face look even more severe.
Seeing us, he paused for a moment, then walked straight over.
"Kholod!" Isabella brightened. "You're back!"
He nodded, his gaze sweeping past my face.
"Taking a walk?"
"Yes!" Isabella smiled. "Noelle's been shut up in her room all day, so I dragged her out for some air."
"Mm-hmm." Kholod made a sound of acknowledgment, thennaturally positioned himself between us. "I was just heading to check the greenhouse. Join me."
His placement cleverly separated us. I walked on his left, Isabella on his right.
"Oh, Kholod," Isabella's voice came from his other side, "did you hear about last week's auction at the Philadelphia Museum of Art? They sold an authentic Monet for an absolutely shocking price!"
"Yes, I know." Kholod's voice sounded gentler than usual. "A Japanese collector bought it."
"My God! You know all the details!" Isabella marveled. "Are you into art?"
"I dabble. The family has some pieces—feel free to look anytime."
"I'm so jealous!" Isabella's voice filled with longing. "I've always dreamed of having my own collection room filled with art from around the world."
"Pick whatever you like and take it."
"Really? That's wonderful..."
Without realizing it, I'd fallen a step behind. Their conversation flowed so naturally, so smoothly—as if they were the couple and I was just an unnecessary observer.
