Chapter 6: Elegance, Not Execution 

Isla didn't expect to enjoy the dinner date with Gareth, but he turned out to be everything Graham said he was. He didn’t judge or discriminate against her despite the things she thought would be embarrassing. At first, she found herself nervous, but by the end, she was laughing at a story Gareth told her while he drove her back to the penthouse.

"I have never enjoyed a date as much as I did today," Gareth admitted as he parked the car in her garage.

"Really?" Isla asked, finding herself blushing.

He nodded. "You are really beautiful, Isla. I love your spirit, and I’m really happy my father made this arrangement."

Isla blushed again. "Me too, I love your spirit too."

"We definitely should go out again. I can take you on a tour around this place. I can show you some properties my father owned that Graham might not have introduced you to yet," Gareth suggested, carving his brows as he stared at her, waiting for her approval.

"I'd love that," Isla nodded.

Gareth stepped down from the car, walked over to Isla’s side, and helped her out. He extended his arms to her. The redness on Isla's face never disappeared as she accepted it and slowly stepped out of the car.

"Goodnight, princess." He gave her knuckle a soft kiss.

"Goodnight." Isla smiled. She was unsure whether to move because Gareth only leaned against his car, watching her.

"You wanna come inside?" Isla asked.

"I wouldn't want to disturb you. We already had such a long night, and I bet Graham will bother you tomorrow," he replied, his hands in his pockets. "I want to make sure you get in safe before I leave."

Isla chuckled. "I am already in the penthouse. I'm safe."

"And I am not taking any chances." Gareth simply shrugged his shoulders.

Isla couldn't stop herself from blushing for the umpteenth time. She was sure her face was already redder than a tomato.

"Alright then, I'm going in," she muttered and took steps to the grand door. She turned around, and he was still there—standing, watching, and smiling. She smiled and waved before finally opening the door and entering inside.

The sound of the engine accelerating came seconds after; Gareth had already driven off. Isla's smile grew wider. She couldn't stop thinking about how much of a gentleman Gareth was. He made her forget the weight she had been carrying for the past days. Before this day, she would have fought a war if anyone ever said people like Gareth existed.

"You're smiling so much, Miss Isla. I'm guessing you enjoyed your time with Mr. Gareth," Selene said warmly, walking toward her.

Isla replied with a hum. "I did. I already had something to eat, so don’t bother with dinner."

"As you wish, miss. Goodnight." Selene waved at her.

"Goodnight." Isla went to her bedroom. She took off her clothes and washed herself up, changing into her comfortable pajamas and falling on the bed.

Maybe life here wasn’t bad after all, she thought as she let sleep consume her. A soft knock woke her up the next morning.

"Can I come in, miss?" An unfamiliar male voice echoed.

When Isla stood from the bed to get the door, she met a man dressed in a tailored dark bespoke suit. He flashed a warm smile at her.

"My apologies if I disturbed your sleep. I was sent by Mr. Graham to pick you up," he said, his voice warm.

Isla muttered slightly, confused. "Graham didn’t tell me I have anywhere to be today."

As usual, Graham was able to read her thoughts from somewhere far away, as he called her phone almost immediately.

"Good morning, Miss Isla. I hope you had a lovely night," his warm voice came through.

"Good morning, Graham, I did."

"I’m very sure someone must be standing at your door—if not this moment, then in the next few minutes…"

"He's already here," Isla mumbled.

"Right. I didn’t want to disturb your time with Mr. Gareth yesterday, that’s why I didn’t inform you. Since you have agreed to Mr Harold terms and conditions, I think it’s best you start undergoing training," Graham explained to her.

He advised her to put on something chic and comfortable and promised she was in good hands. Isla ended up going with a corporate blouse and pencil skirt, paired with simple makeup.

The car arrived at a luxurious building. There was a familiar signature on the roof. She had seen it in the company where she met Graham, so she didn’t need to be told this was another one of Harold's properties.

She was helped from the car and escorted inside the huge building. This was supposed to be a hotel, but Isla considered it a mansion. The environment was highly spacious, all employees dressed in neat navy-blue uniforms, wearing the same signature Khan badge.

"This way, please." A nice-looking female employee led her to an elevator that took her to a private room.

A soft knock on the door, and a security man opened, bowing slightly at Isla.

"Welcome, future Mrs. Khan."

Isla’s legs trembled as she stepped inside the room. Every place of Harold’s she visited kept getting better and better. The view of the room looked unreal, the floor so glassy and delicate she walked slowly, fearing she might break it.

"Hello, Isla." A tall, poised woman with sharp cheekbones said with a polished British accent.

Unlike everyone else who looked nice, she looked cold and commanding—a face that showed you were not to be messed with. But the warmth of her hazel eyes gave her away.

"I am Elise Clarke. I am your etiquette and social conduct coach," she introduced, extending her hand for a handshake.

Her hands looked skinny but strong, fingers slender and perfect, skin tone white as snow.

"I… Isla…"

"Confidence, Isla!" Elise firmly cut her through. "If you are ready to take control of an empire this mighty, then you need confidence."

The authority in her voice was something Isla would never question. She briskly nodded, agreeing with her.

Elise folded her long arms under her chest, walking around Isla, her piercing eyes actively following her, her heels clicking sharply and confidently against the floor.

"You are no longer Isla Pereira, the quiet girl everyone looked down on. You are going to be Isla Khan. Do you know what that means?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at Isla's face.

"It means I’m going to have so much…" Isla's voice trailed off, quiet and nervous as she played with the hem of her skirt. "Money?"

"Wrong, Isla," Elise cut her off. "Anyone can have money. What you are going to have is power. Do you hear me?"

Isla gulped. "Understood."

"Louder, Isla. Heiresses are always heard!"

"Understood!" Isla raised her voice.

Elise smirked and tapped her shoulder firmly but not harmfully. "Posture is very important. Back straight, chin high, and shoulders loose—but never lazy."

Isla cleared her throat and straightened her posture.

"Look at me," Elise instructed.

Isla forced her gaze to Elise’s face. She tried not to shake under the aura surrounding this woman.

"Are you lifting weights?" Elise suddenly asked, lifting one of her brows curiously.

"Huh?" Isla blinked confusedly.

"Are you in pain, or are you holding a stool? Do you wanna use the toilet?" Elise’s curious look only deepened.

"N… no." Isla’s face flushed with embarrassment.

"I’m surprised, because you look like a soldier carrying out punishment. Elegance, Isla, not execution. Try again." Elise looked displeased.

Isla inhaled shakily, forced her posture, but her ankle twisted, and she fell to the floor.

"Ouch!" she cried, seeing the small bruise on her ankle.

However, there was no look of pity in Elise's eyes. "Imagine falling in three-inch heels without walking—then how would you cope with five-inch heels?"

Isla bit her lips, forced herself to stand, straightened her posture, and looked up at Elise.

"Who are you?" Elise asked.

"My name is Isla Pereira…"

Isla knew it was a mistake, seeing the deep disapproving look on Elise's face.

"I mean, Isla Khan…"

"An heiress never stutters, Isla," Elise sighed, rubbing her temples. "We have so much to learn. Come with me," she said, moving toward an elevator in the room.

Isla released a deep breath, going after her, silently mad at Graham for not telling her this life was not as cookie-and-cream as he made it seem.