Uncrowned Princess

17

The hotel's wine cellar was dimly lit, its cool air filled with the rich aroma of aged vintages. Isabella stood among the racks, meticulously arranging bottles of wine. Her movements were precise, but there was an underlying tension in her posture, a tightness around her eyes that betrayed her irritation.

The sound of footsteps echoed off the stone walls. Isabella's back stiffened as she recognized the steady, measured pace. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Ethan. The memory of the conversation she'd overheard between him and Selena earlier that day flashed through her mind, fueling her anger.

"Miss Harrington," Ethan's voice was calm, professional. "I was hoping we could talk. There's been a misunderstanding—"

Isabella continued her work, deliberately ignoring his presence. She picked up another bottle, inspecting its label with exaggerated care, fighting to keep her face neutral despite the jealousy churning inside her.

Ethan took a step closer, his tone remaining even. "Please, Isabella. What you heard between Selena and me, it wasn't what it seemed."

Finally, Isabella whirled around, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt she was desperate to conceal. "Oh? And what exactly did it seem like, Mr. Andrews? Because from where I was standing, it sounded pretty clear."

Ethan's expression remained composed, a stark contrast to Isabella's flushed cheeks and clenched jaw. "If you'd just let me explain—"

"Explain what?" Isabella cut him off, her voice sharp. "How you and Selena are so close? How you confide in her about everything? Don't bother. It's none of my business anyway."

"Isabella, please," Ethan said, a note of urgency creeping into his usually calm voice. "Selena and I are just friends. She was helping me with—"

"I don't want to hear it," Isabella snapped, turning back to the wine racks. Her hands trembled slightly as she rearranged the bottles, betraying her emotional state. "Your personal life is your own, Mr. Andrews. Just keep it out of the workplace."

Ethan took a deep breath, maintaining his composure. "This isn't about my personal life. It's about us, about our working relationship. I value your opinion, Isabella, and I don't want there to be any misunderstandings between us."

Isabella let out a bitter laugh, still not facing him. "Our working relationship? Is that what you call it? Well, let me make it clear then. You do your job, I'll do mine. That's all the relationship we need."

"Isabella," Ethan said softly, the hurt evident in his voice. "I know you're upset, but—"

"Upset?" Isabella turned, her eyes blazing. "Don't flatter yourself, Ethan. I couldn't care less about your little chats with Selena or anyone else. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. Work that doesn't involve listening to your explanations."

With that, Isabella brushed past him, heading for the cellar door. Her steps were quick, almost hurried, as if she couldn't bear to be in his presence a moment longer.

Ethan stood there, his calm demeanor cracking slightly to reveal a mix of frustration and sadness. "Isabella, wait—"

But she was already gone, the sound of her heels echoing down the corridor. Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked around the wine cellar, at the bottles Isabella had been so carefully arranging, and shook his head.

"This isn't over," he muttered to himself, determination setting in his jaw. "I'll make her understand, somehow."

As Ethan left the cellar, the air seemed heavy with unspoken words and misunderstood intentions, setting the stage for the complex journey that lay ahead for both of them.