Skylar, who had been peeking over Elliott's shoulder, almost burst out laughing when he caught sight of the gift. It took every ounce of his self-control to press his lips together and smother the sound, because if Elliott even suspected he was laughing, the man's wrath would be swift and merciless. Skylar had no desire to be on the receiving end of Elliott Ross's infamous temper.
Elliott Ross was, in every sense, a devil dressed as a man. The trouble was that no one would ever believe it. He had been born with the face of an angel—serene, striking, and impossibly innocent. It was a cruel trick of nature. Skylar often thought that if Elliott ever decided to commit murder, even the victim might rise from the grave to testify that Ross was blameless. Such was the power of that face.
But right now, that angelic mask was cracked, and the expression it revealed was priceless. Shock, disbelief, and the faintest hint of betrayal lingered in Elliott's features, and Skylar could not resist. Casually, he slipped a hand into his pocket, tugged out his phone, and snapped a quick picture before Elliott could notice. A keepsake, something to savor later when he needed a laugh.
To be honest, Skylar had also expected something very different inside the neatly wrapped box. Flowers, perhaps—a tasteful bouquet. He had even prepared himself to quietly confiscate them and take them home to his wife, since Elliott would never tolerate them. Flowers made Elliott break out in violent sneezes, a fact the man guarded more carefully than state secrets. Very few people knew he was allergic, and Elliott intended to keep it that way. But now… now this was something else entirely.
Skylar's eyes narrowed as curiosity sparked within him. He stepped forward, still holding the box with the peculiar contents. "Elliott," he said lightly, his voice deliberately casual, "leave it to me. I'll get rid of the cactus for you. No need for you to deal with it."
He half-expected Elliott to snap at him, to snatch the box back or at least make a cutting remark. Instead, Elliott said nothing. He didn't even move. Skylar's heart sank with an odd pang of disappointment. What was the point of such a unique, thoughtful, and—admittedly-hilarious gift if the recipient couldn't appreciate it? Poor sender, he thought to himself. Whoever had gone through the trouble of choosing something so unconventional deserved better than indifference. Shaking his head with mock pity, Skylar prepared to walk out of the room, gift in hand.
But just as he reached the doorway, Elliott's voice sounded," Keep it by the mirror lights."
Slylar almost stumbled over his own feet. Did he hear it right? Wide eyed, he turned back and stared at Elliott for a moment, before asking slowly," Did you say you want me to put it by the mirror?"
He winced when Elliott gave him an irritated look and pointed out," Look there. That plant is almost dead. It is unlucky to have a dead plant. Just replace it with the cactus. And take out the script for the next scene."
Skylar nodded hurriedly and quickly carried out the task. But even as he threw the old plant outside, he could not help but glance at the cactus again. It was seemingly nothing much... but he knew it.. Everything in this vanity bus had been personally chosen or placed by Elliott himself. The man was so finicky... And so, allowing the cactus a small spot in the vanity was a big deal.
Elliott Ross glanced at the cactus again and again-each time he returned to the vanity after a scene, and later in the evening as he wiped away his makeup. But his gaze was not fond, not amused, not even curious as one might expect.
Despite the calmness etched across his angelic features, beneath the surface he was seething. Vanessa Grant-she really was something. He had already turned down her offer, made his stance clear, and yet she persisted with this brazen gesture. The cactus stood there as her challenge. She was much more powerful than him. He looked at the cactus, not as a gift or as a token, but as a warning. A reminder to himself that the only way to keep that woman at bay was to make sure his thorns stayed sharp.
Just as he was about to leave, Skylar returned to the vanity with that 'constipated' look on his face. Even though he knew exactly what it meant, he asked "What is it?"
"Clara wants to see you. There is a party tonight on the cruise. She wants you there. Alone."
Elliott stilled. "And what did you say?"
Skylar looked away guiltily and gulped," I tried to tell her that you were not feeling well but... she insisted." Skylar paused and then in a small voice said," I'm sorry."
Elliott clenched his hands. It seemed... Clara was intent on pushing her into an abyss...