Page 59 of Goldsin

She looks puzzled as I reach into the cabinet and pull out a hair diffuser, and I grin as I plug it in and gesture for her to sit down.

“Let me handle this.”

“Wait—you have a hair diffuser? And you actually know how to use it?” Aurelia raises a brow in disbelief. “Is that curling gel?” Her eyes round as she spots the pink bottle on the counter.

“Of course,” I reply with a smirk. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Clearly,” she mutters, still looking somewhat baffled by the situation. “But really, I can do it. You don’t have to?—”

“No,” I insist, cutting her off. “I want to. I want you to keep your natural curls and not straighten them.” I meet her gaze in the mirror, my eyes softening as I add, “They’re beautiful.”

Just like you.

Aurelia hesitates for a moment but ultimately relents, allowing me to take control of the situation and dry her hair. She sits quietly, watching me in the mirror as I carefully manipulate the diffuser, coaxing her curls into a voluminous, fiery crown that seems to defy gravity itself.

My movements are precise, yet it takes me longer than I’d like to admit as I try to grab hold of her hair, making sure to dry every strand.

When I’m finished I step back to admire my handiwork, feeling a strange sense of pride swell within me.

It only took me nine or ten late nights spent watching tutorials to finally master it.

I know she hates her hair from all the meaningless, hurtful comments members of the Inferno Consortium have made. The ladies make their remarks out of jealousy, because of her youth, while their husbands do so out of pure boredom.

Aurelia’s stubborn. She’ll never style it like this. But I’m relentless, and if she won’t do it, then I’ll do it for her. I want her to love every inch of herself like I do; I want her to stop hiding behind the version of her they created.

Or maybe, just maybe, I want her to look like she did before I sent everything to shit.

“There,” I say, giving her a small smile. “Perfect.”

“Thank you.” Her voice is barely above a whisper as she reaches up to touch her hair, brushing the soft curls, lost in thought. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen it like this.”

“Then wear it like this more often,” I tell her, my voice gentle yet firm. “You should never be ashamed of who you are, Aurelia.”

She looks at me then, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and for a moment I think she might break down. But she doesn’t. Instead she nods, accepting my words as truth even if she doesn’t quite believe them herself. Not after all those years of verbal assault she went through because of her mother or her looks.

“Here.” I give her one of my shirts. “Put this on and get some rest. You’ve had a long night.”

As she slips my long-sleeve shirt on over her head, I can’t help but notice how big it is on her. The hem fallsclose to her knees, and the sleeves almost completely cover her hands. It’s strangely endearing, and I find myself fighting back a smile.

She’s mine, I lie to myself.She looks beautiful as mine.

“Shut up.” She swats at me before crossing her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t say anything.” The corner of my lips threatens to pull upward, revealing the smile I’m trying to hide.

“You didn’t have to.” She looks down at herself with a hint of amusement.

“But if I did,” I say, my voice low, “I’d say how there’s something incredibly sexy about a woman wearing nothing but a man’s shirt.”

Aurelia blushes at my words, and I allow myself to bask in the view.

“Come on.” I guide her toward the bed.

She hesitates for a moment, looking almost nervous at the prospect of sharing a bed with me. I can’t blame her, given everything that happened tonight.

“Relax,” I tell her. “I promise I won’t bite ... unless you ask me to, of course.”

Her cheeks flush pink, and I can’t help but fucking love it when she blushes like that. It makes her seem so innocent. When she really isn’t.

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