Chapter 958: Besse's Doubt

Theodore was speechless, believing Oscar disdained his attraction to female beauty. He didn't expect everyone to share Oscar's apparent indifference to beautiful women.

Theodore continued to gaze at the model approaching him, a sense of familiarity washing over him. "Have I seen her before?" he wondered, furrowing his brow, yet unable to recall.

Little Bunny gracefully strutted down the runway, her performance flawless. The darkened audience area concealed Theodore from her view; she doubted he'd attend such an event anyway.

After her walk, Little Bunny stepped offstage, taking a deep breath. Linda rushed over, exclaiming, "Little Bunny, you were amazing! You're incredible on that runway! You had so many eyes on you—you were perfect!"

Little Bunny smiled, satisfied with her performance. "Let's go back to our dressing room and wait for the event to end," Linda said, helping her with her dress train.

Walking down the hallway, they bumped into a familiar face. Closer inspection revealed it wasn't who they'd initially thought, although the woman resembled someone they knew. The woman noticed Little Bunny's scrutiny and paused. "Miss Little Bunny, your show today was fantastic," she said.

Little Bunny composed herself, bowing politely. "Thank you."

The woman smiled briefly and departed, leaving Little Bunny wondering if two people could be so alike.

"Who is that? She seems perfect for showbiz!" Linda exclaimed.

"Don't even think about it," Little Bunny dismissed. "Anyone who can freely roam here must be rich or powerful."

Linda laughed, realizing the absurdity of her own thought. They left, but Besse paused behind them, glancing back, wondering if the girls recognized her. She wasn't certain.

"Miss!" A male voice called urgently, interrupting her thoughts.

"What's going on?" Besse asked.

"Where have you been? If you don't show up soon, the house will be demolished! You know how scary he gets when he's angry. Please hurry!" the man urged.

In a second, she vanished. He expected her disappearance, recalling her behavior at press conferences.

"Where's Doyle?" Besse inquired.

"He's throwing a tantrum in your dressing room!" the man replied urgently.

Besse pursed her lips. "Let's go."

The man quickly led her to a high-end lounge. The sound of shattering objects greeted them. Besse noted a shattered table lamp before her eyes, then focused on the furious man before her.

He was strikingly handsome, a compelling blend of Western and Eastern features. His deep blue eyes were sharp, his angular face exceptionally beautiful. His mixed heritage was rare.

"Don't smash worthless things! Try smashing that crown!" Besse remained calm amidst the chaos.

The terrified staff dared not breathe loudly. Doyle glared, believing she'd run away again.

"I just went to the bathroom," Besse stated calmly.

Doyle's thin lips tightened, suppressing his anger. He could be impolite to others, but his anger toward her subsided quickly.

"How do I know you won't disappear again?" he asked, his emotions evident.

"If I disappear, won't I come back?" she countered.

"You've stood me up three times!" he exploded. "Can't I have some emotions?"

Ignoring his rage, Besse commanded, "Clean up this room."

Doyle hesitated, tempted to delegate the task, but stopped himself.

"You'll clean up. Whoever made the mess cleans it," Besse reiterated.

Doyle stared, a silent standoff. Then, unexpectedly, he crouched down, shocking the staff. Karami's usually volatile chief designer was obeying Besse.

"Ouch!"

Besse frowned with concern.

"I'm bleeding," Doyle said, showing a cut finger.

"Is that so hard?" she responded.

He felt unappreciated, expecting comfort.

"Stand up," she said, then turning to the staff, "Please clean this up."

"Yes, Lady Besse," they responded.

She sat by the dresser, gazing in the mirror. Doyle approached, unacknowledged.

"You won't stand me up today, will you?" he asked.

"I'm still here," she replied.

Doyle smiled peacefully, a stark contrast to his recent fury. His sunny smile sometimes disarmed Besse.

"Besse," he said, reaching for her hand.

Seeing his wound, Besse found a Band-Aid. Doyle grinned, accepting her help.

"Besse, I know you love me."

His words spurred her to remove the Band-Aid.

"When will we get married?" he asked.

Besse was taken aback by his sudden proposal.

"How about starting to prepare our wedding after today?" he suggested expectantly.

"Doyle, I don't remember the past. I don't know how much we loved each other, so I don't want to rush into a wedding. It's unfair to both of us," she replied, unwilling to discourage him.

"Is the past that important? The present and future are more important, aren't they?"

Besse agreed, yet remained hesitant. She felt a lack of deep feelings for Doyle, an unsettling unfamiliarity.

"Besse..." he began.

"Doyle, please give me more time," she pleaded.

"How long?"

Besse didn't know. A sense of repulsion and unfamiliarity persisted.