Chapter 197

Ella

I watched as Logan and the mysterious man disappeared from view, my unease growing with each step they took. The whole situation left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. Despite the lively atmosphere of the party continuing around me, I couldn’t help but feel isolated and uncertain.

The whole situation was odd. First there was the networking party disguised as a “holiday party”. Then there was the mysterious kiss on the dance floor, followed by a request to meet in private at midnight.

And then, of course, there was… This.

A strange man, a secret meeting, and Logan disappearing before I even had the chance to process it all. And now I was left alone, standing in the middle of the party with an empty martini glass in my hand and a confused feeling in my heart.

Feeling dejected, I turned away from the scene and retreated to the kitchen. The familiarity of the kitchen offered some solace amidst the chaos of the party. It was quiet and comforting, a stark contrast to the flashy glamor of the main event.

With a sigh, I sank down into one of the chairs at the table. The air smelled like fresh baked bread, and it was an oddly grounding feeling. For a moment, I was reminded of my kitchen back at home—back when I was a kid, and Selina always gave me a cookie and some warm milk when I had a bad day.

But as I sat there, collecting my thoughts, a gentle voice startled me. “What are you doing here, dear?”

I turned to find the housekeeper, Mrs. Wentworth, her warm eyes taking me in as she approached. Her presence was unexpected, and I was taken aback for a moment.

“Shouldn’t you be at the party?” she asked.

“I... I just needed a moment,” I replied, my voice wavering slightly. “The party was overwhelming, and…”

Mrs. Wentworth nodded sympathetically when my voice trailed off. “I understand completely. Let me make you some tea.”

I let out a soft breath of relief as Mrs. Wentworth began preparing the tea. I was beginning to feel a bit like a burden in this house, but the kindly old housekeeper made me feel right at home.

“Did anything happen out there?” she asked as she put the kettle on. “Anything you need to talk about?”

“I…” I paused, my voice caught in my throat before I managed to swallow it. “Not really,” I said. “Just the usual. Mobsters and businessmen and appearances.”

Mrs. Wentworth chuckled. “The trinity of misery,” she said.

I nodded. “Couldn’t have set it better myself.”

A few minutes later, Mrs. Wentworth was setting a steaming hot cup of tea and a tiny plate containing a cookie on the table in front of me. My eyes widened slightly as I looked down at the scene in front of me, and for the second time that night, I felt like a little kid again, sitting in the kitchen while Selina gave me a treat to cope with my scraped knee.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “I needed this.”

“We all do sometimes,” Mrs. Wentworth said as she sat across from me.

Touched by the gesture, I took a sip of the tea and nibbled on the cookie. The warmth of the liquid and the familiar taste of the treat brought a measure of comfort.

The housekeeper sipped her own tea across from me, her eyes filled with understanding. “I can tell something else is eating at you, Ella,” she said. “You don’t seem like the type to get easily overwhelmed by mobsters and businessmen and appearances.”

I sighed, feeling a weight on my chest. “I just… I feel so confused sometimes,” I admitted. “One second I want to confess how I feel to Logan, and the next it’s like this little voice in the back of my head stops me at the last moment. Like it makes me see things that a normal person wouldn’t. Like it doesn’t want me to just be… happy.”

Mrs. Wentworth regarded me for a moment. I half expected her to be taken aback by my sudden admission. But she wasn’t. Instead, she took another sip of her tea and said, “Ella, that’s just called being young?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“People don’t know what they want when they’re young,” she said. “Adding a fated mate to the mix only makes matters worse. Your souls are intertwined, but you don’t know each other. It feels as though you’re being pulled in two different directions, no?”

I nodded slowly, her words beginning to make sense.

She sighed softly. “Ella, life is never so simple,” she said gently. “You don’t have to choose now. But you’re allowed to follow your heart.”

“Follow my heart,” I said with a wry chuckle. “How can I follow my heart when I never know whether the man my heart wants is going to get away from the mafia with his life still intact?”

Mrs. Wentworth leaned in, her eyes filled with sincerity. “You might not know everything that Logan does behind the scenes, dear. He’s been working tirelessly to make things right, to protect you. I often find him asleep at his desk in the middle of the night, trying to find a way out of this mess. Is that not enough assurance?”

I was taken aback by her revelation. I hadn’t realized the extent of Logan’s efforts because we just never talked about it. It softened my heart toward him, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for doubting him.

Looking up at the kitchen clock, I realized that I had promised to meet Logan outside, and it was almost midnight. “Thank you for the tea and the talk,” I said, standing up. “I should go and meet him.”

Mrs. Wentworth smiled warmly. “I’m always here if you need to talk,” she said. “Don’t be a stranger here.”

I nodded. “I won’t, Mrs. Wentworth. Thank you.”

As I turned to leave, something stirred inside me, and I impulsively stepped back toward the housekeeper. Without a word, I wrapped my arms around her in a hug, seeking the comfort of an embrace I hadn’t realized I had been longing for.

It was a reminder of simpler times, of the warmth and care I had known as a child. And in that moment, I was transported back to those times, back to the rainy days when Selina would give me a cookie and warm milk and put a band-aid on my knee and tell me that everything would be alright.

“I’m sorry,” I said when I finally pulled away. “It’s just… You remind me of someone.”

Mrs. Wentworth smiled. “And so do you,” she said warmly, patting my hand. “Now go and enjoy the night. And remember that you don’t always need to plan everything out; sometimes, it’s okay to be unprepared, and to let your heart do the talking.”

As she spoke, I felt tears come to my eyes. I nodded and stepped away, and as I re-emerged into the party, her words kept whirling around in my mind.

Let my heart do the talking, she had said…

And what, exactly, would my heart say tonight?