Page 78 of Filthy Dirty Dom
Despite her reassurance, his retreat was reluctant, his steps measured and unhurried. Alex paused at the doorway, throwing her one last glance, before he stepped out, his voice gradually fading into a low, unintelligible murmur as he attended to the call.
33
To Leslie’s surprise, instead of leaving the library, Bella plopped down next to Leslie on the couch. Her eyes held a touch of rebellious spark, hinting at the complex mix of emotions that adolescence often brought. She was close, closer than she needed to be, but Leslie didn't mind.
"Hey," Leslie greeted her. She didn't miss the quick glance the girl shot towards the doors Alex had exited from.
"Hi," Bella replied, her eyes trailing back to Leslie. There was curiosity there, mingled with an apparent interest that Leslie found endearing.
Bella looked around, spotted something in the bookcase, then got up to retrieve it. When she sat down beside Leslie again, she opened what appeared to be a photo album. Leslie pretended interest in the book she had on her lap even though she practically strained her eyes to look at the photos that Bella was flipping through.
She realized the photos were almost exclusively of one woman. At one point, Bella stared at a large picture of the woman long enough for Leslie to truly take her in.
The woman had dark hair and light blue eyes. She had the type of smile that drew you in and made you want to share in whatever secret joy she possessed. Her eyes weren’t just pretty, they were eyes that had seen laughter, tears, love, and loss, yet retained an undeniable sparkle that was enchanting.
Her hair, a cascade of chestnut waves, fell gently around her face, enhancing her ethereal beauty. It was effortlessly styled, with loose curls softly framing her radiant face, giving her an allure that was both sophisticated and approachable.
She was beautiful, yes, but more than that, she was vibrant, alive, and radiant in a way that was deeply compelling.
“She’s my Aunt Mia,” Bella said and Leslie’s gaze jerked up to hers.
“Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have been snooping.”
“It’s okay. I don’t care and neither would Aunt Mia.” Her eyes grew distant, lost in memories. "She's dead."
The weight of Bella's statement cast a hushed shadow over the library and Leslie immediately felt the young girl’s pain. She offered a gentle nod, an unspoken promise of understanding and silent condolences. Bella's lips parted, her mouth opening as if to let loose a torrent of words, then abruptly shut.
"Did you spend much time with your aunt?" Leslie asked tentatively, careful not to push too hard, yet driven by an instinctive need to comfort and understand.
Bella seemed to consider this, her gaze flitting around the room before landing on a photograph nestled amongst a myriad of others on a nearby shelf. She rose from her chair, crossing the room to gently pick up the picture frame. Her fingers traced the edge of the photograph lovingly as she mustered the courage to speak.
"Yeah... but I was pretty young. Grandma reminds me of the good times we had though. We used to do fashion shows in her bedroom with her clothes.” Bella let out a soft chuckle, a touch of warmth seeping back into her voice. "Grandma said I always ended up tripping over her heels. Aunt Mia would laugh and call me her little 'fashion disaster'."
There was a pause as Bella's eyes clouded over with reminiscence. A sad smile danced on her lips, a clear testament to the deep love she held for her departed aunt, or at least the spoken memories of her.
"Sounds like you two had a lot of fun together," Leslie commented, her voice gentle.
“We did. I wish…I wish I remembered more of her, but I was only eight when she died.” A mix of emotions fluttered across her face – sadness, longing, and a hint of something else... caution, perhaps? Her lips parted as if to continue, but then she seemed to reconsider, shutting her mouth firmly and casting her eyes down to the photograph she was still clutching.
Leslie watched her closely as Bella set the album down and put the frame back where she’d found it. She picked another book from the shelves. Hesitantly, she held it out to Leslie. “Have you ever read this?”
Leslie recognized the high-end fashion publication. “I have. So you do have an interest in fashion?”
Bella nodded.
Leslie smiled and opened the familiar book. “This is one of my favorite pieces in here. Look at this," she said, gesturing to an avant-garde gown with a complex silhouette. "I love how this designer isn't afraid to play with structure and form. See how this tiered ruffle skirt is asymmetrical? It breaks convention, but still maintains an exquisite balance."
Bella's eyes flickered to the page, studying the image with interest. "The colors are bold too," she said, pointing at the vibrant shades of red and gold woven into the fabric of the dress, "Not many designers could pull this off without it looking tacky."
Leslie grinned, appreciating the insightful observation. "That's true. It takes a lot of skill to use bold colors in a way that complements the design rather than overpowering it. This designer does it well."
“Cool,” Bella said. She sat down next to Leslie again.
Eager to keep the conversation flowing, Leslie continued. "When I'm working on a collection, I often find myself drawn to the textures first. I love how the right fabric can completely transform a design." As she spoke, she found herself sketching imaginary patterns in the air, her passion for her craft shining through.
“You make designing sound not just interesting but fun."
Encouraged by Bella's growing engagement, Leslie talked about her design process, recounting the joy she felt when her ideas transformed from abstract thoughts to tangible creations. Bella chipped in, sharing her own experiences with the fashion she wore.