NovelEnglish“If I refuse, you’ll make things difficult, won’t you?” she challenged, her tone subdued.
“Absolutely,” Mark confessed without evasion.
Expecting outrage, he was met instead with acquiescence.
“Fine, I’ll dine with you, Mr. Evans,” she conceded, her usage of “Mr. Evans” laced with sarcasm.
Mark detected the derision but remained unfazed. His primary concern was his longing for her.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtAngela’s Library
He suggested picking her up, but she preferred to drive independently.
Ultimately, they agreed to meet at their familiar haunt, reserving the usual private dining area.
Mark arrived early, selecting a few dishes, each a favorite of Cecilia’s.
Ten minutes later, Cecilia appeared, her assistant in tow. Mark eyed the assistant, subtly dismissing her.
As the door closed behind the departing assistant, Cecilia remained silent. She sat beside Mark, picking up her fork, and murmured, “I’m famished.”
It was seven in the evening, and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Mark served her, a rare quiet between them.
The mood was surprisingly pleasant.
Cecilia was sparing with words.
Mark, eating little, studied her profile, and then ventured, “Where’s your new beau?”
“He wasn’t the one. We’ve stopped seeing each other,” Cecilia responded evenly.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmA silent sigh of relief escaped Mark.
He poured her a cup of fine green tea. A kind she didn’t mind.
She accepted without objection.
Once she finished eating, Cecilia cut to the chase, saying, “Mr. Evans, our dinner is done. Time for your investment, yes?”
No desire for a spat, Mark handed her the check. Cecilia glanced at it. 8@ million dollars.
She expressed her thanks and made to leave, but Mark caught her hand.
Beneath the crystalline luminescence, he gazed into her eyes, his voice earnest.
“Cecilia, how long will you stay mad at me?”
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