Evelyn Grant clutched her milk tarts, her back covered in a nervous sweat.
'She never would have imagined that the "meal" Preston Keaton mentioned would be this kind of formal affair!'
Forcing an air of calm, she followed behind Preston Keaton and, under the watchful eyes of everyone present, meekly sat down in the seat next to him.
Only after Preston Keaton sat down did the others dare to take their seats.
But no one dared to ask who the young woman he'd brought was, or what her relationship to him was.
After sitting down, Evelyn Grant lowered her eyes, waiting with quiet obedience for the dishes to be served.
She let their conversation go in one ear and out the other. Her butter-yellow sweater stood out starkly against the crowd's dark attire, yet she remained poised. Its bright, vivid color was so striking that people couldn't help but steal a few extra glances.
Preston Keaton's posture was languid. He spoke only occasionally, but whenever he did, everyone else would instantly fall silent, listening with rapt and nervous attention.
'This was probably the first time Evelyn Grant truly understood that some people were simply born different.'
Wherever Preston Keaton went, people would automatically bow and defer to him.
He was a born ruler, a man of overwhelming power and authority.
His presence alone commanded the entire room.
Evelyn Grant pursed her lips, slowly finishing the last bite of her fish maw and chicken soup. The meal was served in individual portions, each dish just enough for a few bites, so it wasn't overwhelming.
She glanced up and around. Seeing that no one was paying attention to her, she cautiously unwrapped her milk tarts.
The person beside him made a slight movement. Preston Keaton lowered his gaze and asked nonchalantly, "What did you buy?"
'He'd seen her carrying it this whole time, unwilling to put it down.'
The young woman's hand faltered. Likely not wanting anyone else to hear, she whispered, "Milk tarts."
They were packaged so well that they were still intact, even after two or three hours.
There were exactly two.
'It wouldn't be right to offer one to Preston Keaton, but it would be rude to eat them both myself.'
After a few seconds of hesitation, she timidly held out the box toward Preston Keaton.
"Mr. Keaton, would you like one?"
Her knuckles were white with anxiety. She treated him like some terrifying beast, while she was small and fragile, as if he could crush her with the slightest pressure.
'What was the difference between her and a timid, skittish kitten?'
Preston Keaton's gaze drifted down, and he nodded. "Let me try one."
Evelyn Grant froze for a moment, not having expected him to accept. "Then... please, take one."
'It was the kind of thing young women liked—a bit rich and sweet. Sophie Keaton liked these kinds of desserts too; she often had a pastry chef come to Clearwater Bay to make them.'
'The two of them should have a lot to talk about.'
"It's not bad."
Preston Keaton said gently, "If you like them, tell Butler Shaw when you get back. She can have someone buy them for you."
Their voices weren't loud, but they weren't whispers either. The others didn't dare to listen openly, pretending to chat with their neighbors while sneaking glances out of the corners of their eyes.
Sensing she had become the center of attention, Evelyn Grant lowered her voice even further.
"Thank you, Mr. Keaton, but that's really not necessary."
'It would feel less like I'm here to work and more like I'm here on vacation.'
'The Keaton Family was very considerate, but she had to be aware of her own position and not overstep her boundaries.'
The final dessert course was served.
Preston Keaton had to take a call. After he left, the atmosphere in the private room relaxed noticeably.
A man seated across from her smiled. In a humble tone, he first asked if she was enjoying the food, then, his tone shifting, he asked speculatively...
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Keaton's...?"
"..."
Evelyn Grant replied, deadpan, "Employee."
Just then, Preston Keaton returned from his call. His placid gaze swept over the two of them as they put their heads together. After sitting down with a detached air, he suddenly spoke.
"What were you two just talking about?"
Evelyn Grant blinked, the picture of compliance. "That gentleman was asking what my relationship is to you."
Preston Keaton lowered his gaze, waiting to hear her answer.
The young woman tilted her face up, her eyes sparkling and clear, without a hint of guile. "I told him I'm your employee."
Preston Keaton: "..."
'Fine.'
—
Preston Keaton went back to Centrium; Evelyn Grant returned to The Mid-Levels.
The driver from that morning was already waiting for her. As she settled into the car, she watched the motorcade gradually drive away, a thrill of excitement bubbling up inside her.
Earlier, when Wyatt Walsh was speaking with Preston Keaton, she'd inadvertently overheard that a plane was waiting to depart for Bexley at three in the afternoon.
'Preston Keaton was going on a business trip.'
The sense of constraint that had been weighing on her heart vanished. At the same time, she received a message from Sophie Keaton.
"I'm landing in Veridia tomorrow morning!"
Evelyn Grant's lips curved into a smile. "Great, I'll be waiting for you."
Sophie Keaton arrived at The Mid-Levels at nine the next morning.
She wrapped her arms around Evelyn Grant's arm with a beaming smile, never one to hide her affection. "You have no idea how happy I was when my big brother told me he'd hired you as my Makeup Artist! You're basically my birthday present from him. A little late, sure—that old fossil has no idea how to win a girl's favor, but I guess he's improving."
Butler Shaw's face was full of fond indulgence. "The Master dotes on you the most, miss. He even arranged for a pastry chef to come to The Mid-Levels before he left, just to await your return."
Sophie Keaton's eyes lit up. "Really?"
She pulled Evelyn Grant along at a trot, and sure enough, when they reached the dining room, she saw it.
The desserts were exquisite. To accommodate their smaller appetites, each was a miniature version of a standard dessert, allowing them to sample every flavor.
Evelyn Grant's gaze locked onto the familiar milk tarts, her mouth watering a little.
Sophie Keaton's mutter reached her ears. "Big Brother has been acting pretty strange lately."
'Strange in a thoughtful way.'
But she didn't dwell on it, simply pulling Evelyn Grant along to eat with her.
With no one to watch over them and no oppressive atmosphere, the two young women were able to let loose. They had plenty to talk about and ended up chatting from morning all the way into the afternoon.
Sophie Keaton had to return to Clearwater Bay that evening for dinner with her parents. As she was leaving, she said mysteriously, "I'm taking you somewhere cool tomorrow night."
After her shower, Evelyn Grant sat on the rug, gazing out at the Veridia skyline. Suddenly, something dawned on her.
'She'd been here for two days and hadn't even opened her kit.'
'Is this even a job?'
'It feels more like I'm on vacation in Veridia.'
The Bexley skyline was no less dazzling than Veridia's—a brilliant, magnificent sprawl of light.
It was a magnificent, glittering pearl of the Orient.
Preston Keaton answered a call from Henry Sterling. Lazily toweling his hair dry, he said coolly, "What is it?"
The man on the other end of the line was bursting with excitement.
"I heard you took a girl to dinner today."
"You've got some nerve. Instead of letting me meet her first, you parade her in front of that pack of sharks."
Preston Keaton's tone was measured and calm. "If that's all, I'm hanging up."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Henry Sterling protested, then asked grudgingly, "When are you coming back to Veridia?"
His tone shifted. "Bring that girl of yours so I can get a look at her."
"..."
Henry Sterling stared at the disconnected call, the rest of his words dying in his throat.
'So protective. It's not like anyone's going to eat her.'
'Still, it would be good for Preston to experience some real feelings, to let go a little.'
'After all, for people like them, marriage was never something they could control.'