waking

Chapter 40 

Naomi had just wrapped up her photoshoot and was now in the backseat of Shawn’s Rolls–Royce Phantom. Leaning back, she took a much–needed sip of water and glanced at the man beside her. Shawn had his eyes closed, oozing an almost chilling yet captivating vibe. 

Pulling out her phone. Naomi checked her notifications, Her eyes went wide. Both she and Monique were trending on Twitter. She tapped a link and saw the official promo image from Elaine Jewelry. There she was, in a stunning red evening gown, her lips a fiery red and her skin flawlessly pale. The makeup artist had done wonders; her eye makeup made her gaze mesmerizing. Her slender neck adorned with exquisite jewelry made her look both graceful and regal. The red gown made the gems sparkle even brighter, and she almost outshone the jewelry 

In her previous life, Naomi had never looked this stunning or turned heads like this. For a moment, she felt like a radiant princess. 

A burst of pride had her saving the image. Back in the day, she’d been the unseen Cinderella, buying into the fantasy that Freddy was her Prince Charming. Not anymore, 

Snapping back to reality, she scrolled through the trending topics about Monique. In just hours, the woman had taken a nosedive from the top. As her eyes shifted back to Shawn, she realized just how quickly someone could fall from favor. Shown was a man whose mere influence determined one’s fate. Monique’s downfall was a lesson; real power came from within, not from others. 

Firmly holding her phone, Naomi knew that Shawn could be an ally or a threat with just a word. She was determined to take advantage of this opportunity and stay on top. 

The sleek Rolls–Royce Phantom glided to a halt in front of the Fischer Group’s imposing skyscraper. Chandler, Shawn’s right–hand man, stepped out swiftly, followed by Shawn’s chauffeur. Just as Naomi reached for the door handle to exit the luxe car, Shawn caught her wrist in a firm grip. 

“Where’s my thank you?” Shawn’s gravelly voice filled the space, his eyes suddenly snapping open and fixing her with an intense stare. “You’re not someone who forgets her manners, are you, Naomi?” 

Quick to acknowledge the debt she owed; Naomi nodded, “Of course, Mr. Fischer. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me.” 

Shawn’s expression barely changed, but the hint of a smile played at the edge of his lips. His fingers defily tilted her chin upwards. “Just remember, don’t try to play me. Got it?” 

“Crystal clear,” she affirmed, meeting his gaze with a mix of determination and sincerity. There wasn’t a trace of duplicity in her eyes. 

Shawn’s next command came curtly. “Wipe off that makeup.” 

“Right away,” Naomi complied, reaching for the makeup remover. 

With Shawn remaining seated within the plush confines of the car, Naomi began to erase the layers of glam–her striking look for the photoshoot now a memory. Once finished, she revealed her natural beauty, a stark contrast to the fierce, polished persons she’d just shed. 

He said coldly. “Come out now.” 

“Sure, sir,” she replied 

She stepped out of the vehicle into the late afternoon sun, her red gown catching the light as Chandler held the door. Shawn maneuvered himself into his wheelchair, asserting a quiet power even in silence. Naomi walked around the car to take over from Chandler 

“We’re going to make a quick stop at the company’s cafeteria Shawn directed without looking at her. 

Naomi pushed the wheelchair forward, her response automatic, “Yes, Mr. Fischer.” In this world of power dynamics and unwritten rules, her role was simple: to listen and obey. 

As Naomi wheeled Shawn into the bustling company cafeteria, he silently gestured for her to grab meals for two. Despite the inviting aromas, he remained a stoic observer, creating an invisible barrier that left Naomi hesitating to eat. She eyed the food on her tray with growing hunger. 

“Ear,” Shawn finally broke the silence, his voice as cool as the steel of the wheelchair he occupied. 

Naomi didn’t hesitate any longer. She picked up a fork and dove into her meal with relish. After experiencing tough times, a full plate meant the world to her, and Fischer Group catered to all the right notes–healthy, delicious, and perfect harmony of proteins and greens. She thought, half- seriously, that she could stay at this job forever if only for the food. She savored each mouthful, cheeks bulging slightly in her quiet enjoyment. 

Shawn observed her with a hint of a smile–he was reminded of a pet hamster from his childhood, always intent on its food, cute in its earnestness. When Naomi finished her last bite and sipped her tomato soup, she glanced up to find Shawn’s gaze on her, intrigued. Surprised, she quickly reached for a napkin to dab at her lips. 

Without a word, Shawn slid his untouched meal across the table. “Keep going” 

Locking eyes with him briefly, Naomi understood the unspoken rule and resumed eating. Her stomach demanded more, and with recent memories of Monique’s fall from favor looming, she knew better than to decline his generosity. She valued the security and relative comfort of 

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being in Shawn’s good graces much more than any pride in independence. 

Content after the extra helping, her eyes crinkled in satisfaction. She flashed Shawn a grateful smile. Thanks, that hit the spot, I’ll cook for you when we head up to the office on the sixty–third floor 

The sight of Naomi’s genuine happiness drew out an almost imperceptible upturn of Shawn’s lips–a rare sign of warmth that she caught instantly. 

*No need. You can head out, Shawn said dismissively and then called Chandler’s name. 

Chandler appeared at once. “Yeah, boss?” 

Chandler turned to Naomi, offering a courteous out. “Need an escort back, Ms. Edwards!” 

She blinked, thrown off balance. “But I’m your assistant, Mr. Fischer. Is it cool if I take off now?” 

Shawn glanced at her, an unreadable look in his eyes. “Just take care of my meds first. Then you can head out” 

“Got it. Mr. Fischer, Naomi replied, all business. 

She washed her hands like it was a ritual. Shawn didn’t budge from the cafeteria, so she made do with it as her makeshift clinic. Standing in her crimson dress, Naomi leaned in, her delicate fingers applying the medicinal cream to his face with a gentleness that belied her confusion–why weren’t the scars healing? Her touch was light, careful over the rough, raised marks, and filled with a strange, empathetic tenderness, Shawn, his face a mask, kept his eyes on her the whole time. 

With the ointment in place, Naomi looked up, catching the enigmatic pull of Shawn’s gaze–enough to give her a nervous flutter. Did she mess up? 

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