Selena's POV

My delight was still unwavering as I woke up the next day, the dawning peace amid bird chirpings, and the bask of warm sunlight from out the window caressing my face promising an even more eventful day.

That is at least what I thought—until I realized…

“Oh, my freaking…!” I jerked up from the sheets, my body reverberating with alarm as my feet hastily found the ground, and my hands my alarm clock. It was reading 9 am, meaning I had slept in. The morning had come so quickly and I had been giddy even in my tired slumber to remember I had to be at the studio by 8.

My phone was neither a soothing reliever as it beeped incessantly on the table, and reaching for it snapped my panic into a tremendous tremor.

10 missed calls from David.

18 missed calls from Jacqueline.

1 missed call from some unknown number.

2 missed calls from Arthur.

With hasty movements, I set my pace ablaze, running through my morning routine in minutes, getting ready to leave the flat, and phoning a call to Jacques.

And she answered within a millisecond.

“Where the heck are you, Selena?” Her tone pitched a bitten-back anxiety and obvious trepidation. “I almost thought you died—”

“Did we get any requests?” I rushed to ask as I filed my feet into one of my flat shoes, careful not to mix the two different pairs lying by my feet and look like some maniac all in the name of getting ready for work.

“Mr. Jackson’s secretary called,” she said, worsening my heart's stutter as my hands found their way to my hair, holding it up in a messy pony. “He said he wanted to speak to you; schedule a meeting.”

“And?” I was scurrying across every corner of my apartment, phone held to my ear, haphazardly fixing myself up before I left.

“Sir David stopped by,” she replied almost immediately. “He, I quote, ‘wanted to check up on you after you answered none of his calls.’”

An ‘ah’ left as a crack from my throat as I bobbed my head, fished my handbag, and snuck myself out through the door. I didn't want to think it was odd of David to want to check up on me on the flimsy excuse of not answering his calls.

If I allowed myself to believe, he could care.

Or maybe, he just wanted to meet up for business and the sorts. Nothing is linked to any emotions whatsoever.

Drowning out the ridiculously sour feeling going down in the pit of my stomach, as well as the discomfort in my chest at the thought, I punched the elevator’s open button and waited for it to stop on my floor.

“Is he still at the office?” I asked, merely just to satisfy the gnawing feeling brushing my ego.

“He left some minutes ago,” she replied. “You should have seen his panicking expression —”

“I'll be at the office soon enough,” I told her, slicing through her words like they were a tomato plum I had out for. I didn't want any hopes that my former imagination could be given any thought, in as much as I was still sailing on the moving ship. I ended the call as the elevator dinged open, and I began another as I stepped into it.

It was weird how I ached with anticipation on whether he would respond to my call or not, but I waited, with every beep of the line, as the elevator began to move.

“Selena,” his raspy, breathless voice hit my ears, sending a tingling sensation down my spine. There was something close to longing blooming inside me as my heart rapped; alongside the curiosity as to why he sounded like he'd run a mile.

“David,” I called, his name like soft cotton candy on my tongue I wanted to relish. “I saw your calls, and I heard you visited the studio.”

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with an urgency that made my insides cradle. “Are you in your apartment?”

“I'm heading out to the studio,” I replied, watching the number of floors on the elevator’s panel lighting up every minute.

“Good,” Relief washed over his voice. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

My curiosity spiked, my brows furrowing into puzzlement. Was he…?

“Are you —”

“I'm on the ground floor,” he stated, muddling my curiosity into a wave of surprise. How did he know where I lived? “And I'm waiting. Don't take eternity to come down so we can grab brunch before heading to the studio.”

I didn't know what it was; nervousness, maybe, that made me glance at the descending countdown every second with impatience from when the call ended. Something bubbled inside me at the thought that he was the first person I would be seeing first thing in the morning.

Something I quickly stuffed under the grandeur of politeness and reserved the moment the elevator doors dinged open, and he was waiting in front of it. But it almost melted away with one glance over at him; from the perfectness of his ruffled-up, curled, jet-black hair that kissed his forehead with a soft, silky adorn, to the exquisite slight glitter of his patent loafers.

He was simply breathtaking under the bathing of morning sunlight.

“I didn't think you would come to my apartment to look for me, David,” I said, stepping out of the elevator and towards him.

“Oh! She's down!” Frank's elated remark grasped my attention to his excited flushed face from where he sat beside the elevator. “This young man”—he gestured with a head nod at David—“had incessantly asked about you as if you were missing and he had to desperately find you as his life depended on it.”

Something along the lines of embarrassment flushed over David's face, appalling me.

Did everything he does have to be so appealing?

“Was that how it seemed?” His lips curled into a small, heavily attractive smile as his eyes met mine. “I was only just concerned, but thank you”—he glanced back at Frank—“for your assistance, nonetheless.”

“You're welcome,” Frank nodded, before casting me that old man-knowing grin I chose to ignore.

Simply because what he was thinking, wasn't what was.

“We should head out, David,” I suggested, and with a slight glance at Frank, I said, “Have a nice day, Frank.”

“Be sure to make that a mental note as well, Selena,” he called from behind as we had already started to move towards the exit. “He's a fine man, I must admit!”

I fought the urge to turn and shoot the old man a scowl for his outright bluntness as we approached the glass doors, my nerves getting worked up at the fact that he was seeing potential in David and had indirectly voiced it like it was his concern.

David was a fine man, but I wasn't ready to hop onto another man yet.

“You stand on friendly grounds with him?” David’s voice reeled me out of my head and hooked my attention.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Practically everyone in the building stands on friendly grounds with him since he's the matron.”

“Ah,” David uttered, his voice soft with ponder. I liked the way his eyes got lost for a moment; and the enthralling cloud of intrigue basking around him. “So…, brunch?” His eyes met mine, almost catching me off guard and with the embarrassment of him stumbling on my ogling expression.

And for the thought, why was I ogling him?

“Yeah,” I slid a strand of hair behind my ear, abashed to meet his gaze as I clutched on my bag. “I don't think there is anything much important to attend to at the studio, and I might need the coffee rush too.”

There were probably two to three things I had to attend to at the studio, plus getting back to Mr. Johnson, but I was letting it fall aside over a brief moment of brunch with David.

Another smile kissed his lips as he pulled open the car door for me to enter. “Get in,” he stated. “I happen to know the best place for coffee and breakfast.”

And I did without a second thought. I hopped into his flashy blue Audi and allowed myself to heap with the curiosity of where this place was.

And what it had in store for us.