When Ice Loved Fire || An S&S Fan-fiction

Chapter 4

Ambrose's P.O.V.

The shopkeeper's eyes widened. I assumed he remembered us from our previous visit.

"Good evening, Mr. Ambrose, sir."

"You better remember what we told you last time." Karim growled.

"Yes, sir." The man said, looking intimidated.
"What would you like to purchase today, sir?"

I cleared my throat.
"What would you give a girl on her birthday?"

The man blinked a few times. Was that a wrong thing to say?

"Erm...sir...whatever you think she would like, something that would make her feel special will do, sir."

I thought for a while, and then turned around and left.

~

Karim was still at my back when I stopped the cart in front of another shop. A shop that was way more public than the previous one.

Don't do this don't do this don't do this.

There's nothing wrong.

Yes, that is exactly the problem. Everything is right.

I am not listening to you.

~

Lilly reached the office on time, as usual, the next day. She was unusually jumpy. The smile never left her face.

"What makes you so happy today, Mr. Linton?"

"Solid chocolate, sir."

Chocolate bar you mean.

"Do your work properly. You won't be coming tomorrow so make up for it today."

"Yes, sir."

Lilly's P.O.V.

"Mr. Linton."

Again? Who is wasting time talking now?

I glanced up at him.

"There is a package on your table. Take it with you when you leave."

"Oh! Yes, sir."

I have been wondering what it was when I had reached. But I knew better than to touch anything without permission.

~

I climbed back into my room with the package in my hand.

I hopped onto my bed and placed the brown cover in front of me. I began opening it from a corner. Once it was completely removed, a royal blue colored cloth that was carefully folded came into view.

And on top was a neat piece of paper. Written on it was...

'For a beautiful little ifrit.'

Wear it tomorrow, Mr. Linton.

- Rikkard Ambrose.

In Mr. Ambrose's elegant handwriting, with black ink.

My heart thumped so hard that I thought Ella could hear it from accross the room. As if on cue, she looked up from her embroidery hoop at me, and then my hand.

He called me beautiful.

But he also referred to you as a male. Like always.

Blast.

She smiled and jumped into my bed next to me, and peeked into the paper in my hand.

"If...rit? What is an ifrit??" She asked, innocently.