Chapter 19 Exclusive Release: Kissing the Adam's apple...
Yuan Ning ascended a magnificent and ancient spiral staircase covered with royal blue velvet cushions to reach her room.
She gently closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and let out a soft sigh. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, but her eyes remained unusually bright.
The room was more spacious and elegant than she had ever imagined, continuing the overall style of the mansion, with light gray silk wallpaper on the walls and furniture in typical Georgian style.
Just then, there were two very soft knocks on the door.
Yuan Ning straightened up, composed herself, and opened the door. Dorota stood outside, pushing an exquisitely crafted brass-edged handcart.
“Miss Wynne, excuse me. This is what Mr. Elias instructed to prepare for you.”
The items on the trolley were arranged meticulously, silently exuding luxury.
A complete "Buly 1803" toiletries set. Featuring the iconic stone jar-shaped bottle with an engraved cork stopper.
A set of silk pajamas from the "La Perla" haute couture collection, in an extremely gentle dove feather gray. The style is elegant and conservative, with long sleeves and trousers. The only decoration is the ostrich feather trim on the collar and cuffs.
Hanging beside it was a pale pink tulle skirt, its hem cascading in layers, exquisitely layered with tulle, satin, and lace. Undoubtedly, it was designed by the European classical aesthetics designer Oscar de la Renta, a tulle skirt that exuded both girlish romance and aristocratic charm.
"These are Elias's orders?" Yuan Ning found it hard to believe that the man she had just provoked would prepare these things so meticulously. Was he really that easy to bully?
Dorotha raised her chin slightly, seemingly proud of her employer: "Of course, Mr. Elias's gentlemanly manners were carefully taught by Mrs. Theodora. If he does anything wrong, he will be reminded by Mrs. Theodora."
Dorotha's voice fell steadily, precisely shattering the naive thought in Yuan Ning's mind that "he's so easy to bully," and dispelling any notion that his kindness towards her stemmed from his tolerance.
What he gave her was simply the principle ingrained in his bones, not something directed at her personally.
She took the items, and Dorotha bowed slightly. "I hope you enjoy them and have a comfortable stay. Good night, Miss Wynne."
The door closed again. Yuan Ning didn't immediately touch the items, but quietly admired them. They were beautiful, flawless.
But they also seemed like a test, a test of whether she would be ecstatic about these top-tier substances. She took a deep breath, and she was indeed ecstatic.
She first picked up her toiletries and then slowly and thoroughly took a shower in the equally luxurious bathroom, letting the rich, money-scented aroma envelop her and wash away her fatigue, as if she were born to live here and enjoy all of this.
Then she changed into the pigeon-feather gray silk nightgown, the ostrich feathers brushing against her collarbone and wrists, bringing a subtle, heart-fluttering itch.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her black hair fell to her shoulders, and her skin appeared translucent white against the backdrop of the fine silk. Yet, her eyes were as calm as a lake on a winter night.
She had just been invited by Theodora and had drunk nearly half a bottle of red wine, so she was now slightly tipsy.
But there was no doubt that she was feeling joyful at that moment, a joy that... made her want to keep everything here. This thought was naked and burning, searing her nerves, which were slightly warmed by the alcohol.
She believed she knew how to manipulate Elias; certain intimate actions with him could trigger his violence, and afterwards, he would often compensate her.
In this chain, intimacy with him and compensation from him were what Yuan Ning wanted, while his violence was completely within her tolerance.
She looked up at the mirror with pride; the red mark was long gone, not even lasting more than 48 hours on her.
Is it dangerous? A little. But she wouldn't be herself if she weren't dancing on a tightrope.
She no longer had to worry about food expenses and rent; she liked it here.
She turned, her gaze falling on the Oscar de la Renta tulle dress, a girl's dream gown. She walked over and gently pressed her cheek against the lace, the layers of sheer fabric brushing against her skin like mist.
That's great.
Clutching her dress, she slowly strolled back to the bed and sank into the soft, cloud-like mattress. The ostrich feather trim brushed against her chin, creating an indescribable, pampered illusion.
The alcohol and expensive fragrance made her thoughts slow and viscous. There's a Chinese saying, "A gentleman judges by his actions, not his intentions." She wondered, besides that damned gentlemanly manner, was it possible that he sent these things just to see how she would look in them, to pamper her?
She pulled the down comforter, which smelled faintly of lily of the valley, wrapped herself up tightly, and quickly drifted into a warm dream.
The next morning, Yuan Ning, guided by Dorota, arrived at the breakfast room. It was a smaller, more private room than the formal dining room, filled with sunlight and the aroma of coffee and toast.
Elias was already seated at the head of the long table, wearing a simple white Egyptian cotton shirt with a bow tie at the collar. He was reading a Financial Times article, with a cup of English breakfast tea beside him.
When Yuan Ning entered, he raised his head and nodded slightly to her. Dorota pulled out a chair for her and invited her to sit down.
Theodora was not present.
Yuan Ning sat down to his right, her posture elegant.
Good morning, boss.
The maid served Yuan Ning breakfast: a fried omelet, a plate of fresh fruit, and a cup of English breakfast tea.
Then, the entire space fell into an almost frozen silence, with only the occasional soft sound of silver cutlery clinking against porcelain plates.
Yuan Ning also played the role of a lady perfectly, wiping her mouth with a napkin after finishing the last sip of tea, her movements slow and deliberate.
Elias happened to look up and gracefully folded the newspaper in his hand.
“Regarding your job,” he began, as if presenting a business contract, “based on some of our previous interactions that didn’t quite conform to work standards, I think it’s necessary to clarify some additional terms.”
Yuan Ning adopted a listening posture, but inwardly she became wary, yet secretly excited... What was this old fogey up to now?
Elias took out a piece of parchment with beautiful italic writing on it and pushed it in front of her.
Supplementary Code of Conduct for Dress Consultants?
Yuan Ning tilted her head, glanced at him, and continued reading.
1. Physical Contact Restriction Clause: When providing dressing services to employers, all necessary physical contact (such as adjusting ties and straightening collars) must be performed using specialized tools (an ivory tie clip and wooden collar stay are provided). Direct contact with the employer's vital body parts by bare hands is strictly prohibited (see Appendix A for definitions).
2. Code of Conduct: Communication between consultants and employers should strictly revolve around appearance, aesthetics, and schedules. Consultants are prohibited from making any subjective comments (whether positive or negative) about the employer's appearance or physique.
3. Boundary Clause: In any workplace, without the express written permission of the employer, any attempt at intimate behavior that goes beyond the scope of professional boundaries is prohibited (see Appendix B for definitions, such as initiating a kiss).
Yuan Ning looked at the extremely meticulous supplementary agreement, especially Appendix A and Appendix B, and almost burst out laughing.
She forced herself to look up at Elias, who still wore a businesslike expression.
“Boss,” she tapped the parchment lightly with her finger, her tone innocent yet slightly provocative, “the terms are very detailed. However, I have a question.”
"Speaking."
Elias looked at her, gesturing for her to continue.
"Look, if the employer exhibits unexpected emotions or behaviors, including those prohibited in Appendix B, is the consultant entitled to compensation? Is the employer required to pay the consultant... um, emotional distress compensation for your loss of control?"
The air seemed to freeze. Appendix B prohibits behaviors including, but not limited to, forcibly kissing someone—how could Elias possibly do such a thing to an employee?
“Miss Wynne, I will not lose control.”
“Is that so?” Yuan Ning met his gaze. “But boss, the purpose of rules is to prevent all possibilities. Otherwise, it would seem like… you’re the only one who’s afraid of something. It’s unfair to only protect me and not you.”
The breakfast room was deathly silent. Elias looked at her eyes and saw the cunning, the provocation, and the expectation.
After a long silence, he leaned back in his chair and finally spoke: "As you wish, I will add a fourth clause to restrict both of us."
Yuan Ning smiled slightly and nodded elegantly: "Okay, boss."
Elias took out a pen from his pocket with one hand and wrote the fourth point on the parchment. He wrote in beautiful and elegant cursive script. In addition, he could talk eloquently about wine and classical music, but Yuan Ning had not yet been able to get any guidance from him.
After writing the last line, Elias put down his pen and pushed the parchment back toward Yuan Ning.
"Is this alright, Miss Wynne?"
Yuan Ning quickly scanned the text, finished reading, looked up, and nodded slightly: "Okay."
"Boss, your handwriting is really beautiful."
Elias's face stiffened for a moment, and Yuan Ning added, "I praised your handwriting, not your handsome face or your broad chest muscles. I didn't break any rules."
She picked up the pen and signed her name at the end.
After lunch, a sleek, understated black Bentley quietly pulled up in front of the mansion. A chauffeur in a tuxedo was already waiting nearby.
"Miss Wynne, where are you going now?"
"I need to go to school, boss."
Elias put away the newspaper and put his coat on: "I'll take you to school."
The two arrived at the mansion's gate, and the driver opened the back door for them. Yuan Ning bowed slightly, lifted the hem of her Oscar de la Renta tulle dress, and gracefully stepped into the car. The pale pink tulle spread out on the dark leather seats like a delicate flower suddenly blooming.
Elias boarded from the other side and sat with her in the back. His masculine scent, a blend of cigar and leather, subtly intertwined with the cool aroma of her Buly 1803 Scottish Moss.
The vehicle smoothly drove out of Willow Street and merged into the morning traffic of New York.
The back seats are separated from the front by an opaque black velvet curtain, creating a private space for the rear passengers.
Yuan Ning sat quietly, all her senses focused on the man beside her.
She could feel the heat emanating from his body, hear his steady breathing, and even imagine the contours of his chest rising and falling beneath his suit.
The car smoothly crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Manhattan skyline slowly unfolded outside the window. Inside the car, silence permeated the air, but it was not an empty silence.
Elias picked up the newspaper again, his usual cold demeanor returning, as if the person sitting next to him was not a little girl in a gauze dress, but an item that needed to be transported to a designated location.
There is a clear boundary between employers and employees at this point.
Yuan Ning didn't try to break down this wall. She simply turned her head slightly, her gaze falling on the car window, admiring the street scene while looking at the blurry reflection of his clearly defined profile.
The view of New York City from inside a Bentley is entirely different. She quietly enjoyed her time in the car, and the class divide seemed so distinct, yet so... alluring, in the tranquil cabin at that moment.
She suddenly remembered the feel of ostrich feathers brushing against her skin last night, and the cool, silky smoothness of the La Perla pajamas. The pleasure brought by these luxurious materials was real, and her fingertips unconsciously curled up, gently scraping against the soft leather seat beneath her.
Just then, the car swerved to avoid a taxi that suddenly changed lanes and lightly applied the brakes.
The inertia caused Yuan Ning's body to lean forward slightly uncontrollably. Almost simultaneously, a slender hand wearing a platinum watch firmly pressed down on her forearm, preventing her from potentially crashing into the back of the seat.
The girl was too light; even a little inertia was enough to make her lean forward.
Yuan Ning heard Elias lightly reprimand the driver.
The touch lasted less than two seconds before the car regained its balance, and the hand was quickly and restrainedly withdrawn, his entire body once again creating an insurmountable barrier between him and Yuan Ning.
Yuan Ning lowered her eyes and looked at the spot where he had just pressed down, where the warmth of his fingertips still lingered, faintly burning.
But for her, this touch accelerated her process of crossing that insurmountable barrier.
"Thank you." Her voice was very soft, like a feather brushing against the skin.
A barely audible, nasal-like response came from behind the newspaper.
The divide remains, class barriers remain formidable, and the employer-employee relationship remains insurmountable.
But Yuan Ning sensed a subtle current of energy, a primal and dangerous attraction suppressed by rules.
This is not the first time the boundaries have been blurred, and it certainly won't be the last.
As the vehicle slowly entered the neighborhood where Parsons School of Design is located, more young faces carrying drawing boards and dressed in avant-garde styles began to appear outside the window.
The outside world and the car, his private sanctuary, are like two separate worlds.
The view outside the window instantly came to life, so vibrant it was almost blinding.
In 2000, young girls liked to wear sexy tank tops and hot shorts, but since it was winter, they would wear fur coats over them.
Their hair is dyed in all sorts of colors, they carry huge painting tubes or fabric samples on their backs, and they talk loudly about Deleuze or the next underground show.
The rich aroma of coffee wafts from the independent coffee shop on the street corner, mingling with the rhythm of a street performer's hand drum, while the walls are covered with brightly colored graffiti.
This is a world full of creativity, chaos, vitality, and even a bit of recklessness.
Inside the car, the temperature was kept constant at 22 degrees Celsius, and the air was filled only with the scents of high-quality leather, cigar cigar fumes, and Elias van der Berg himself.
He seemed to despise the outside world. He had never liked the popular street style or hip-hop style, which he considered to be the style of vagrants.
He sat there as steady as a rock, finally putting down his newspaper and looking at her calmly: "You've arrived, Miss Wynne."
Yuan Ning suddenly turned her head: "Thank you for giving me a ride, boss." Her gaze fell directly on Elias's face.
"You're welcome."
Sunlight streamed through the car window, casting a shimmering glow on his golden hair, making him look absolutely captivating.
“Boss,” she said softly, her expression very focused, “your bow tie seems a little crooked.”
Elias, upon hearing this, hesitated for a moment, but still reflexively raised the hand with the platinum watch on it.
Just as he was about to touch the silk bow tie, Yuan Ning suddenly leaned closer and put her hands on his collar.
She looks incredibly professional.
Her breath sprayed onto his Adam's apple, warm and moist. Her gaze was focused almost piously. She adjusted him with her hands, carefully adhering to the agreement, her fingertips never touching the skin of his neck.
Such subtle, almost imperceptible touches are more unbearable than direct caresses.
Elias froze, unsure how to stop her from doing something that wasn't against the rules.
Just as he was about to tell her to step back, Yuan Ning stopped.
She raised her eyes, and his face was clearly reflected in her dark pupils, which held only naked, undisguised ambition.
Just before Elias was about to stop her from doing anything, she simply tilted her head slightly and, with a speed that left no room for refusal, pressed her lips precisely and heavily onto his Adam's apple.
It wasn't a gentle touch, but a kiss with a clear sense of possession.
Her lips were soft and warm, giving him a distinct sucking sensation.
She even let out a long, contented "Mmm~".
The voice was soft yet possessed a girlish charm, like a feather tickling the tip of her heart, revealing an almost obsessive infatuation.
Elias's eyes narrowed sharply in an instant, as if cracks were bursting in the polar ice.
After the initial shock, an unbelievable rage surged in his eyes.
He stared intently at the face so close to his, trying to find mockery or provocation so he could unleash a severe punishment.
Yuan Ning closed her eyes, her eyelashes glistening with physiological tears of excitement, and her cheeks flushed an unnatural red, as if she had just tasted some rare delicacy.
She seemed to be worshipping the territory she had long coveted with her lips, and then let out a satisfied, soft sigh.
This is a desire so pure it's almost naive.
He could feel her warm breath and hear her satisfied moans. He had already pushed her shoulders away, and she slowly opened her hazy eyes, meeting his icy blue eyes, where the storm was still raging. Clearly, he was furious.
Yuan Ning looked up at him, stuck out her tongue, and licked her upper lip, like a young girl licking off ice cream stuck to her lips, as if savoring the memory.
"Boss, you smell so good..."
Elias's face instantly turned extremely ugly. He shoved her away violently, breathing heavily, and raised his hand to wipe his Adam's apple, as if that could erase the mark left by the young girl.
In the blink of an eye, she had gotten out of the car, carrying a schoolbag and wearing a gauze dress. She stood outside the window waving at him, smiling brightly and innocently: "Boss, I'm going to class now, or the professor will deduct points from my grades if I'm late."
The treaty they had signed together on the parchment that morning seemed like a joke. The parchment was sacred; those agreements shouldn't be treated so carelessly. She was untrustworthy, he thought.
Elias leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and tried his best to suppress the restlessness rising within him.
If she hadn't looked at him like that, he would have pushed her away by grabbing her by the neck. Thankfully, he didn't; he couldn't allow himself to lose control again.
Outside the car, Wynne was walking briskly toward Parsons' red-brick teaching building.
She wore a coat over her shoulders, the hem of her tulle skirt fluttering in the sunlight, and wore 10-centimeter high heels. Carrying a handbag, she walked with a cat-like gait, looking as if she was filled with joy.
She exuded innocence and carefree joy, while Elias, hiding in the car, felt that he was the one in the dark, even though she had molested him.
“Drive, Charles,” he commanded the driver, and the Bentley slowly drove out of the campus street.
Yuan Ning spent the entire morning listening to the professor lecture on "Luxury Brand Strategy," a case study of how the LVMH Group built a fashion empire through acquisitions, marketing, and channel control. The content was dry and boring, lacking any creativity.
But Yuan Ning listened very attentively, which was unusual for her, and she began to become interested in the capital behind fashion.
Regarding her choice of majoring in Fashion Management in college, she thought that she didn't just want to be like Emily and what she is doing now, simply learning how to serve wealthy women and top clients, nor just creating new ideas and concepts in fashion magazines. If possible, she wanted to have a greater voice and stand at the top of the fashion industry.
In that case, perhaps she could barely be on par with Van der Berg in terms of social class.
After a long and tedious morning of classes, Yuan Ning opened her iBook to check her emails. Marjorie Winters' email was quietly sitting at the top of her inbox.
The title was: "Congratulations on your article being published in V".
Yuan Ning suppressed her overwhelming joy and almost held her breath as she opened the email.
Marjorie's language is as concise and rigorous as ever, but the content is enough to drive any college girl crazy.
Wynne Meng,
Your feature article, "How Classic Items Regain Their Glory in the Unrestricted Year of 2000," has been accepted by the editorial team and will be published on page 34 of this issue of V magazine.
The viewpoints are acceptable, but the writing style needs improvement. Keep up the good work.
The payment is $100, which will be deposited into your account at the end of the month.
Marjorie Winters
The attachment contains scanned copies of the magazine's interior pages.
Yuan Ning opened the attachment and looked at the lead lettering printed on the smooth coated paper: "By Wynne Meng".
At that moment, even the air seemed to change.
An unprecedented sense of confidence flowed into her body like a warm current.
Williamsburg cubicles, Balthazar's chicory salad... Screw them, I'll never live like that again!
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