Chapter Three

***Ella's POV***

His words echoed in my mind, leaving me in a state of disbelief. Did I truly hear what I thought I heard? I strained to comprehend the gravity of his proposal. "Marry me, Ella." His voice was steadier this time, more resolute, as though he could sense the turmoil swirling within me. I suddenly realized this was not a figment of my imagination; it was all too real.

He reached for my hand, an earnest gesture meant to bridge the chasm that had opened between us. But the weight of his words was too much to bear. With a surge of panic, I pulled away, feeling as though I were suffocating under the enormity of his request. My heart raced as I fled his office, each step driven by an overwhelming sense of confusion and urgency.

I hardly registered with the world around me; all that lingered was the intensity of his gaze and the echo of his declaration, leaving me utterly speechless and shaken to my core.

As if he sensed my momentary shock, his voice resonated once more, piercing through the haze of my disbelief. "Marry me, Ella," he declared, and this time, his tone was resolute, leaving no room for misinterpretation. I wasn't imagining it; the intensity in his voice was unmistakable.

Panic surged through me, and I bolted from his office, my heart racing. I dashed straight to the restroom, desperate for a moment alone to gather my thoughts. His expression lingered in my mind—serious, almost grave. I had never witnessed him so stern, his brow deeply furrowed, a clear reflection of the concern etched on his face. I was utterly bewildered: what did this mean?

Standing in front of the mirror, I scrutinized my reflection, anxiously trying to make sense of his unexpected proposal. Why had he chosen me? I wasn't the glamorous, affluent type he might usually gravitate towards. I worked tirelessly, just scraping by, hardly affording the luxury of a proper meal. Likewise, I mean… What did he see in me?

The restroom door swung open abruptly, and in walked Kate, a striking member of my team. She exuded an effortless beauty, her features perfectly sculpted, with high cheekbones that framed her face elegantly. Her captivating blue eyes moved gracefully, accentuated by thick, dark lashes that fluttered like delicate wings. I couldn't help but admire her, and I sensed she was aware of my gaze.

With a relaxed yet graceful demeanor, she turned her gaze toward me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Ella, is there a problem?" she inquired, her voice smooth and melodious. As she reached into her elegant purse, the subtle scent of floral notes wafted through the air, mingling with the anticipation of the moment.

She carefully retrieved a tube of lipstick, the soft pink hue gliding onto her lips with perfect precision, accentuating her radiant complexion. I shook my head, an instinctive gesture to convey that all was well, but the warmth of her presence lingered like a gentle embrace, leaving me momentarily at a loss for words, captivated by her effortless charm.

She exited the restroom, leaving behind a lingering sense of tension that filled the air like a toxic cloud. It felt as though we had just crossed some unspoken boundary. I quickly adjusted my clothing, trying to regain my composure, and stepped out into the office, hoping that the bustling environment would help me shake off the unsettling feelings.

However, my thoughts kept drifting back to the earlier encounter. Images of the scene replayed in my mind, each one more vivid than the last. He kept materializing in my thoughts, his gaze unsettling, and it sent waves of discomfort coursing through me. I struggled to concentrate on my tasks, but every time I attempted to focus, the memory would intrude, leaving me feeling anxious and out of sorts for the rest of the day.

As the clock struck the hour marking the end of my shift, I gathered my belongings, ready to escape the confines of the office. Just as I was about to step outside, a messenger approached me, presenting an envelope that seemed to pulse with significance. My heart raced as I took the letter, my fingers trembling slightly as I tore it open.

To my surprise, the note inside read, "Miss Ella, you are cordially invited to join the President at his exclusive after-party." The words swirled in my mind, blending excitement with a sense of disbelief. The thought of mingling with influential figures sent a thrill through me, but I quickly realized I was utterly unprepared for such an event.

As I lingered at the threshold, a wave of uncertainty washed over me, tempting me to retreat and forsake the gathering entirely. My team, however, formed a vibrant circle of support around me, their expressions brimming with zeal and encouragement. "You can't miss this opportunity!" one of them exclaimed, eyes sparkling with excitement, while another enthusiastically added, "Imagine the invaluable connections you could forge!"

The passion in their voices began to stir something within me, pushing my reluctance aside like a fleeting shadow. Before I could muster the courage to voice my hesitations, their infectious enthusiasm enveloped me, and I found myself nodding in reluctant agreement. With a final, lingering glance back at the familiar confines of the office—a haven now feeling oddly constricting—I stepped into the bustling world outside, ready to embrace the unexpected adventure that awaited me.

I followed up on the invitation because the party kicked off with an electric atmosphere. As we settled into our seats, laughter, and chatter filled the room, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and the inviting aroma of delicious food. We indulged in a delightful spread, savoring each dish while engaging in various games that sparked a competitive spirit among us.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar figure weaving through the lively crowd. The mere sight of him sent a wave of nerves and shyness washing over me, and I couldn't quite understand why I felt this way.

"MR. THOMPSON!" the entire team exclaimed in unison, rising to our feet as a sign of respect and excitement. All eyes turned to him as he made his way to an empty chair—unfortunately, the only available seat was directly beside mine. My heart raced at the thought of sitting so close to him, amplifying my anxiety as I struggled to process the situation. How could I possibly contain my overwhelming feelings in such proximity?