Chapter 177 How to Handle Him
[EVE]
Cole leaned closer, his eyes intense. "Me," he said simply. "I'd do anything for you, Eve."
The room felt too quiet, too charged with tension. I could only gape at him as he reached for my hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. He raised it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. His eyes locked onto mine, and the intensity of his emotions hit me like a storm.
"Are you crazy?" I could only say.
"Yes, I'm crazy," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Completely, madly, irreversibly insane. Falling in love with you did that to me."
My breath hitched. His confession was so raw, so sincere, that I couldn't find a single word to say.
When Cole's lips brushed against my knuckles again, it sent a shiver down my spine, and my entire body betrayed me. Every tiny hair stood on end, and—to my horror—my core decided to warm up as if I'd just stepped into a sauna.
I panicked, and yanked my hand back so fast it was a miracle I didn't sprain something. Turning away, I desperately searched for a safe topic. Anything to steer this conversation out of dangerous territory.
"Anyway," I said, a little too loudly, "this magazine isn't that important. You don't need to do all this stuff for me."
Cole leaned back in his chair, casual as ever, like he hadn't just short-circuited my entire nervous system. "It is to me. Anyone who dares to feature your face should do a perfect job."
I didn't have a clever comeback to that—mostly because I was too busy gaping at the magazine. My face was
everywhere
. Not just on the cover but splashed across every single page like I was the next big thing in Hollywood.
"This is supposed to be a Rosette family feature," I said, flipping through the pages at lightning speed. "Why is my face all over this? I'm just adopted!"
Cole shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'll make the entire magazine about you, so you don't have to worry."
My jaw dropped. "I—what?!"
Unfazed, he continued, "If you don't like these pictures, I have thousands more. We can go through them one by one if you want."
I choked. "W-what? What pictures?!"
"In fact," Cole said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "there are so many good angles of you that it's a shame not to publish them. I might have to do another volume."
I stared at him, horrified. "Another . . .
volume
?"
He nodded, dead serious. "Yes. Maybe a whole series. Volume one to ten, at least."
My brow twitched. Was he seriously planning a
magazine series
about me?
"Are you nuts?!" I slammed my hands on the table, but he didn't even flinch.
"You're right." Cole nodded, like I'd just given him the best idea of the century. "Ten volumes aren't enough. There's too much potential—good pictures, costumes, poses. The company should dedicate itself entirely to you. That way, your name will spread far and wide. It'll help your businesses too."
"Don't you dare . . ." I trailed off, voice shaking, fully aware that arguing with him was pointless. If anyone could make this ridiculous idea a reality, it was Cole. I needed a smarter approach than this.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I eased back into my seat and put on my most angelic smile. "Are you
sure
you want an entire magazine out there with just my face?"
Cole paused, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean?"
For a genius, he was sometimes gloriously clueless. Perfect. Time to turn the tables.
"Well . . ." I leaned forward slightly, feigning innocence. "If my pictures are out there,
everyone
might see them."
"I know," he said, still not catching on.
"Including . . . boys."
I picked up a stack of papers, pretending to reorganize them, and watched as the realization slowly dawned on him. His hand froze mid-air. His face darkened. If steam could come out of ears, I'd have grabbed some dimsum by now.
"You're right," he said, his voice low and menacing. "You're far too pretty. Men will swarm around you like flies. Buzzing. Annoyingly."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
But Cole was already pulling out his phone, his jaw set like he was about to declare war. "Stop all editing for the holiday issue," he barked into the phone. "I want everything changed. Scrap the whole thing."
Even from across the table, I could practically hear the collective groan of despair from his staff on the other end of the line.
I could only shake my head, silently apologizing to his poor staff for the chaos he was about to unleash. Still, at least my pictures wouldn't be plastered across every coffee table in the country.
For now, at least.
=== 🤍 ===
The next day, I made my way to Hyun's studio, eager to check on his progress with the winter collection. With all the orders piling up and deadlines looming, I needed to ensure everything was running smoothly.
Sure, launching a winter collection this late in the season wasn't ideal, but January was still icy, and there was plenty of demand for chic, cold-weather fashion.
Plus, with our runway show planned just before Christmas, it was essential that everything went off without a hitch.
As I stepped into the studio's spacious, pristine white lobby, the soft hum of activity greeted me. A small crowd of elegantly dressed women sat waiting, flipping through magazines or scrolling through their phones. Enjoy new adventures from empiren/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
Hyun was notoriously selective, only working by appointment—no walk-ins allowed. That's what I had instructed, at least. Yet even with his exclusivity, there was a steady flow of clients.
I took a moment to admire the polished atmosphere: sleek furnishings, abstract art on the walls, and the faint scent of lavender wafting through the air. It all exuded the effortless sophistication I had envisioned for Hyun.
But my sense of calm was short-lived.
As my gaze shifted to the seating area near the corner, I froze.
There, lounging on one of the cream-colored couches like they owned the place, were
Sophia and Sophie.
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