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28. Get A Taste Of Isolation!
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2025-12-30 23:21:52
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Dear Ex, You Missed a Fashion Icon 45. Burst Of Passion and Sin
MARISSABy midnight, I felt as though the glass walls of the North Suite were closing in on me. Dante lay on the far side of the king-sized bed, his breathing deep and rhythmic, but my own skin felt like it was on fire.I slipped out, my bare feet silent on the cold marble floors as I navigated the dark toward the kitchen. I needed water to wash away the lingering taste of the morning's fear, but mostly, I needed to escape the suffocating weight of being watched.The kitchen was a cavern of silver and shadows, illuminated only by the ghostly glow of the moon. I reached for the refrigerator door, but a low rasp from the darkness made me freeze."You always did seek out the cold when your mind was racing."Tristan was sitting at the island, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He wasn't the polished CEO now. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, his hair Mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it for hours. He looked raw. He looked like the man I had married before
Dear Ex, You Missed a Fashion Icon 44. Accident At Breakfast
MARISSAThe next day, during breakfast, another wave of tension brewed on the terrace of the Vance estate.There was a symphony of clinking silver and the rhythmic roar of the Pacific. The air was crisp, smelling of pine and sea salt, but the atmosphere around the long mahogany table was suffocating. I sat at the head of the table, flanked by Dante, while Tristan sat directly opposite me with Tina anchored to his side like a gilded weight.I felt Tristan’s eyes on me. I didn't look up from my coffee, but I could feel the heat of his gaze. He was watching the way Dante leaned toward me, the way Dante’s hand hovered near mine. It was a silent, agonizing pressure. Across from me, Tina was making a show of buttering Tristan’s toast, her movements exaggerated and performative."You haven't eaten a thing, Marissa," Dante murmured, his voice a low velvet. He was playing the part of the doting lover to perfection—perhaps too well. He reached for a small, elegant ceramic bowl in the center o
Dear Ex, You Missed a Fashion Icon 43. Love Triangle In Malibu
MARISSAHe didn't just watch; he threw the sliding door open with such force it nearly jumped its tracks. Tina was right behind him, clutching a silk robe, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and calculated excitement.The four of us stood in a frozen tableau. A long, agonizing silence stretched through the room, broken only by the sound of Tristan’s ragged breathing and the distant roar of the Pacific. It was the kind of silence that precedes a landslide—heavy, suffocating, and loaded with three years of unsaid things."What the hell gives you the right to barge in here?" Dante’s voice broke the silence, but it wasn't a shout. It was a low, dangerous growl. He didn't let go of me; if anything, he pulled me tighter against his chest, making sure Tristan saw every inch of the intimacy he had interrupted.Tristan’s gaze darted from Dante’s hands to my flushed face. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He looked like a man who had forgotten how to breathe. His eyes were
Dear Ex, You Missed a Fashion Icon 42. Heart Rhythm In Malibu
MARISSAThe drive to Malibu was a silent war of nerves. Dante insisted on driving me himself in his black obsidian Ferrari, leaving the corporate shuttles and Tristan’s silver Bentley trailing in our wake. Every time I glanced in the rearview mirror, I could see Tristan’s car—constant, looming, and suffocatingly close.When we pulled into the driveway of the Vance Beach Estate, the air changed. The scent of salt and expensive cedarwood filled the car. The estate was a sprawling masterpiece of glass and bleached wood, perched precariously on a cliff overlooking the Pacific. It was a place built for romance, for transparency, for the kind of intimacy that could either heal a soul or dismantle it.As the staff began unloading luggage, Tristan and Tina pulled up. Tina stepped out, looking like she was heading to a photoshoot rather than a creative retreat, her hand immediately finding Tristan’s forearm."Welcome," Tristan said, though his eyes never left mine. He looked weary, the bravado
Dear Ex, You Missed a Fashion Icon 41. The Sudden Retreat
MARISSAThe next day, I sat in the executive lounge, watching the steam rise from my tea, when Tristan walked in. He wasn't alone. Tina was draped over his arm, her fingers dug into his blazer with a ferocity that screamed of a woman marking territory.What the hell is going on?Has he suddenly come back to his senses and now feels like he doesn’t care about me anymore?Tristan looked at me, and for a second, the mask of indifference he was trying to wear slipped. He looked like he wanted to fall at my feet, but then he glanced at Tina and his jaw set into a hard, stubborn line.“Oh…I know what this is all about.” I thought aloud. “Dante’s presence must have hit him hard. How pathetic.” I thought grimly. "The board has approved a creative retreat," Tristan announced, his voice projecting to the few designers gathered in the room. "The Silver Silk Collection is under too much pressure. We’re heading to the Vance Beach Estate in Malibu for the weekend. Mandatory for all senior staff."
Dear Ex, You Missed a Fashion Icon 40. You Can’t Win Like That, Marissa
TRISTANThe office no longer felt like my sanctuary. It felt like a stage where I was the only actor who hadn't been given the script.For three days, Dante Virelli had made himself a permanent fixture in the Vance headquarters. He didn't just stay in the boardroom; he drifted through the halls as if he owned the air we breathed. Every time I looked up from my desk, I saw him. He was in the design studio, leaning over Marissa’s shoulder as she sketched. He was in the breakroom, making the interns laugh while he waited for her coffee.How could a multi billionaire be so accessible?I would grit my teeth in rage as I watched his every movement. I stood by my window, my fingers dug into the edge of the mahogany sill. Below, in the courtyard, I watched them. Dante was handing her a bouquet of white lilies—not the cheap kind you find at a florist, but rare, exotic blooms that probably cost more than my first car."He’s doing it again," I whispered, the glass fogging with my breath.I watc
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