That kind of look made me feel like I was the sort of woman people wanted to sin over. My features had never been the "pure and innocent" type to begin with; now, with makeup on, I felt like I'd been painted into some sort of seductive consort.
"Come here and change your shoes."
Just when I was busy stressing over the fact that I looked like a temptress, Captian's low voice suddenly sounded.
I turned around and glanced at the glass shoes in his hand. The crystal heels shimmered under the lights, so beautiful they almost dazzled me. Were these specially prepared for me? I lowered my eyes to the flat leather shoes I was wearing. With this gown, they suddenly looked ridiculously plain.
I walked over to Captian, intending to take the crystal shoe from him, but caught his cool gaze and heard him say, "Go sit over there."
I pouted but could only obediently sit down to the side.
And then…
Captian held the glass shoe and suddenly knelt in front of me. My eyes flew wide, my heart almost leaping into my throat. What was he doing? Putting my shoes on for me? Impossible. A man as noble as Captian would never lower himself to change my shoes. Absolutely never!
The second I finished swearing that in my head, reality slapped me in the face—hard. Captian really was helping me put my shoes on.
His slender fingers first slipped off my small, flat shoes. My round, pale pink toes were exposed, delicate and fragile like a tiny piece of art, instantly catching his full attention. He stared at them, his Adam's apple bobbing, and his eyes heated up in a way that made my scalp tingle.
I immediately sensed something was off. The heat in his gaze felt like it could devour me whole.
"President Anderson, maybe I should just put them on myself." I shifted my foot in discomfort. My round toes curled together, making my feet look even whiter.
That tiny movement only made the fire in his eyes burn hotter. He looked at me like a wolf that had locked onto its prey, and my whole body tensed. I felt exactly like a little white rabbit being stared at by a predator, as if I could be swallowed at any moment. I swallowed nervously, my whole body trembling uncontrollably.
Ignoring the fear in my eyes, Captian suddenly reached out and slowly caressed my bare foot, from my toes all the way across the arch to the top, not missing a single spot. His movements were so gentle it felt like he was touching the most fragile artwork in the world.
But my spine went rigid, and a chill crept all over my skin. I lowered my eyes and, the moment I did, crashed straight into his gaze—sick and crazy, like he'd found some fascinating new toy, even more twisted than when he'd stared at the beauty mark under my eye.
Don't tell me he'd actually developed some addiction over this.
My eyes widened. It was so hard to breathe I almost wanted to kick this psychopath away. He was terrifying.
I had no idea how long it took before he finally slid the glass shoe onto my foot. Once my round, pretty toes were wrapped up inside, I actually saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
But I was thrilled. Only heaven knew how scared I'd just been.
Compared to my fear, everyone in the salon—and Ronan outside leaning on the car—looked absolutely stunned.
God, what had they just witnessed? Their President Anderson actually kneeling down to put shoes on a woman. Even if that woman was his wife, it was still enough to blow their minds.
Normally, everyone had to bow their heads respectfully in front of him, but the same powerful, untouchable man was now bending down, on one knee, to fasten a shoe for a woman.
If that wasn't love, then what was?
In that instant, all their gazes on me changed. Even President Anderson treated me this well—if they could win the favor of this "apex female of the food chain," wouldn't that mean an extra layer of protection for them too?
The very next second, I became the absolute center of attention. Their eyes were like rows of thousand-watt spotlights pointing straight at me. My mood was… complicated, to say the least.
This salon was way too enthusiastic.
I rubbed my nose awkwardly and casually changed the subject. "Wow, these glass shoes are really beautiful, and they fit perfectly. Did you choose them for me, President Anderson?"
Captian said nothing, but the stylists around us immediately exploded into a flurry of chatter, all of it pure praise, and it actually sounded pretty sincere.
"Mrs. Anderson is so beautiful she'd look good in anything. This gown looks perfect with the crystal heels."
"Mr. and Mrs. Anderson standing together are truly a match made in heaven. I'm so jealous."
"Mrs. Anderson's face is more gorgeous than any actress in the entertainment industry. Just seeing her sparks my inspiration. I designed so many hairstyles just for you—I hope you'll like them."
Hearing their compliments, my face slowly heated up, and I started to feel a little dizzy. I knew they were probably talking like that because Captian was here, but I still couldn't help feeling happy.
"Thank you, everyone," I said politely. "I really like the hairstyle you designed. It suits me and matches the gown perfectly."
The designers all visibly relaxed when they heard that. They stole careful glances at Captian. He didn't show any particular expression, but they could sense he was in a good mood—especially when they'd called us a perfect couple.
So President Anderson liked hearing that kind of thing, huh. In that case, they'd just say it more often in the future. Maybe they'd even get a raise.
I stared at myself in the mirror for a while longer before noticing it was already past ten. Just getting to the Anderson family estate would take us until after eleven. That was way too late—basically lunchtime. Letting the elders of the Anderson family wait would be incredibly disrespectful.
I immediately lifted my skirt and ran over to Captian, tugging gently at his sleeve. "President Anderson, it's already past ten. We should get going, or we'll keep the Andersons waiting too long."
"Then let them wait."
He curled his thin lips, his voice cold.
I paused. Why did I get the feeling Captian didn't have much affection for the Anderson family? Whenever he mentioned them, his face went cold, and his tone turned even colder.
Clearly sensing I'd better not say anything stupid before I understood what was going on, I shut my mouth right away.
"Let's go."
He lowered his eyes, and his gaze happened to fall on the pigeon-blood diamond ring on my ring finger, gleaming under the lights. His features seemed to soften instantly.
So I really had worn the ring.
His brows lifted slightly, and in those dark, icy eyes, something seemed to quietly melt away, leaving behind a trace of warmth that was almost impossible to spot.
I didn't notice any of that. I just lifted my skirt and followed him out, quickly getting into the car.
The old Anderson estate was in the suburbs of Alchimie, quiet and lush, with incredibly fresh air. The building itself carried an ancient aura, it was a centuries-old mansion. Time hadn't managed to make it feel dusty at all; instead, it gave off a kind of solemn, mysterious pressure that made people instinctively wonder what stories had unfolded there.
I stared at the old house in front of us: red wooden gates, vermilion walls, green-tiled roofs, and stone lions guarding the entrance. Everything looked ancient, exactly like something I'd seen in dramas.
"President Anderson, your family home is really impressive," I said, eyes wide in genuine awe.