“Is everything okay, ma’am? Are you feeling sick? Should I get my master?”
“No, no, no, I’m fine. I just… I’m just not ready to have breakfast yet.”
Clinton furrowed his brow as he watched Clarisse nervously clenching her fist around her nightgown. He put on a smile.
“Would you mind if I bring it here then?”
“Huh? You can do that? Won’t they be angry?”
“They? I’m not sure who you’re referring to, but I can do that,” he said, bowing before walking away.
Clarisse sighed, looking worried. She wondered if she had made the right decision by not just following the man. She wished she could reverse time.
“Will they barge in yelling at me? Will they throw me out or lock me somewhere?” she kept asking herself.
She began to say goodbye to the soft, large bed she had fallen in love with. The bed was so soft that she didn’t feel any pain in her body, unlike what she was used to.
Christian watched Clinton return without Clarisse. He looked up, hoping she would come out, but she didn’t.
“What’s wrong? Why is she not coming out?”
“Maybe your face is scaring her.”
Christian glared at the man in response.
“She wants to have her breakfast in her room,” Clinton said simply.
“Why?”
“Isn’t your face scary?”
“And how’s my face looking scary?” Christian glared up at him.
“Maybe if you look in the mirror, sir.”
Christian scoffed. He knew Clinton well and how he could get under his skin with respect, but he ignored him and returned to his food without saying another word.
Clinton went to the maids to arrange for the meals to be taken to Clarisse’s room. Before leaving, he took another look at Christian and sighed.
He knew Christian well. He wasn’t a man who talked much-cold and indifferent, a person of authority who didn’t take no for an answer. Christian was someone who didn’t share his feelings or open his heart to let people in, maybe because of the secret of his identity. One thing you’d never hear Christian say was “thank you” or “I’m sorry.” Clinton had only heard him say it twice in his lifetime.
He was a cold, dominant man, even as a child. But the only person he had ever shown any softness to was his grandfather, with whom he shared jokes. Christian loved his family, but it took him a while to accept them.
Aside from his grandfather, another person who has pushed him out of his shell is Clinton. They were never on good terms, but Christian still considers him an uncle. His grandfather was concerned that Clinton’s domineering attitude might interfere with his marriage, which is why he sent him over.
The maid followed him as they went to Clarisse’s room. She jumped when the door opened, and the room was soon filled with the mouth-watering aroma of freshly prepared meals. They placed the food down, and Clinton dismissed them.
“Here’s the meal, ma’am.”
Clarisse gasped. “This isn’t a meal; it’s a feast!”
Clinton smiled. “If it’s my lord who offends you, and that’s why you chose not to join him for breakfast, I apologize on his behalf. I know he’s not the type to say sorry, but I hope you can see this as him apologizing.” He bowed slightly.
“He didn’t offend me, and he said sorry,” she said, not paying much attention to Clinton. Her eyes were on the feast before her. This would probably be the best meal of her life, and she was trying to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Was all of this really for her?
“Eh?” Clinton was unsure if he had heard her right, and this was when she had his full attention. “My lord has apologized to you?”
“Hm,” she nodded.
“My lord? Christian Charles?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Countless times. Even on our wedding day when he arrived late.”
Clinton stood frozen, as though he had just heard a bizarre story. After a few seconds, he laughed. She must have misheard or misunderstood. Maybe he had expressed an apology in another way-perhaps with a sentence, but definitely not “I’m sorry” or even a simple “sorry.” There was no way he believed what she was saying. No way. Maybe he would see it for himself someday.
“Is she okay? Did she avoid seeing me because of yesterday?” Christian asked himself as he stood in front of her door, contemplating whether to go in or not. Ultimately, he decided to leave for work instead.
Meanwhile, Clarisse was having a moment to herself. She aggressively tore into the roasted chicken, stuffing it into her mouth, reaching for the sausages, and then the fluffy mashed potatoes.
“Mm…uhh,” she moaned in delight as she kept enjoying her meal. At one point, her eyes filled with tears as she chewed. In her right hand was a chicken wing, and in her left, a spoon. She became emotional.
“This is the best meal ever,” she chuckled, tears rolling down her cheeks. “And I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts,” she added before resuming her fast eating, as though afraid it would be taken from her soon.
“He’s not that hardworking or righteous, he just likes being in the limelight,” Worker A said with disdain.
“You forgot to add that he’s also an attention seeker,” Worker B added.
“I know, right?” Worker C agreed.
“Slacking off and gossiping about your coworker-don’t you feel ashamed?” Karine, Christian’s secretary, said, looking at the gossipers with disgust.
Worker A cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s not like we’re telling lies.”
“Oh, so you’re telling the truth while you’re supposed to be working?” Karine raised an eyebrow.
“But there’s not much work to do,” Worker B replied, trying not to meet her eyes. “And there’s no need to be so uptight. The boss is on his honeymoon.”
“Oh, really? I hope you can say the same thing when the director returns,” Karine warned, eyeing them before walking away.
Just then, some workers rushed in. “He’s back! He’s back!”
“Who’s back?” Some of them asked, panicking, but seeing everyone quickly get back to work, pretending to focus on their tasks, only one thing could be certain: Christian Charles was back.
No one dared to look up from their computers as he passed by, the fear of meeting his eyes palpable. They could only bow their heads, greeting him as he walked past with his statuesque figure, intimidating them with his cold, authoritative aura.
He went straight to his office. His secretary glanced at the other workers, who looked surprised, but she didn’t allow the surprise to settle in. She immediately knew that her tight schedule and workload had begun. She quickly began packing files and checking emails as fast as she could before he called for her. And, of course, she succeeded. Having worked for him for years, she was used to his authoritative and domineering attitude.
She knocked gently on the door, and he permitted her to enter.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Morning,” he replied without sparing her a glance. “Anything?”
“Congratulations on your wedding, sir.”
“Mm.”
“Um, there are some meetings on hold and-“
“Postpone them,” he answered as his head was buried in the system.
“You heard me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And also, sir, the Nand Corporation sent an email about investment and looking forward to a meeting, and also-“
“Put it on hold.”
“On hold.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.