COPYRIGHT © 2017 Miu
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the Author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All pictures and multimedia used are not the author’s work and doesn’t claim any legal rights.
MATURE CONTENT and VULGAR words not suited for young readers below eighteen (18) years old.
“What’re you doing here?”
Lance frowned when he saw me sitting at a table, waiting for the seminar to start.
“Lance, you are also here?!” I said with fake surprise and added with a formal tone, “Chef Brullini works at one of our hotels and restaurants.”
With that, my underlying meaning as to why I was here was purely business and that our meeting was pure coincidence.
I may appear calm and aloof upfront, but my sweat was building on my back and palms. My legs trembled under the table as my fingers fumbled on top of my lap.
It was a good thing my voice remained even. The hours and hours of practice last night was worth it.
We were at the seminar that Lance wanted to attend. The room was spacious, but it only had twenty tables with two people per table, making it forty persons in total.
Chef Brullini was a well-known renowned chef throughout the world. Thus, it was no wonder the slots were limited.
Lance’s eyes flashed with excitement at my mention of chef Brullini’s name. My lips parted, wanting to say more when out of nowhere, a youthful voice startled us.
“Hi! Is this seat taken?” said a charming blondie. His smile was wide, showing his set of perfect white teeth. He was looking at me like Lance was invincible beside him.
I was sitting in the center front row. It was reserved for Lance and me, and I would not allow anyone to ruin that set-up. My forehead creased, and before I could even say no, Lance placed his backpack on the seat beside mine and sat down without glancing at the blonde man.
“Okaaaay . . .” Blondie was annoyed, but he did not bicker as he contented to sat behind us.
“. . .”
“. . .”
“It’s the best spot.”
Lance merely said, eyes on the stage while I stared at him with astonishment and adoration. I retracted my gaze and bit my lips, twittering in secret. My fingers were doing the happy-happy dance at the moment.
“. . .”
“. . .”
“How are yo––”
“Hi, you’re Emery Jansen, right? I’m Fred Meyer,” the blonde boy interrupted, offering his hand from behind.
I was stunned for a moment, thinking that he had guts. He must think that I was a friendly person from the way I stared at Lance and all.
“Hello.” I politely nodded my head, ignoring his extended hand.
Fred withdrew his hand with a grin on his face, not at all offended.
“I never thought I’d be seeing Miss Emery Jansen here at a seminar about cooking. I thought you majored in music? Did you change course?”
I restrained a frown when this Fred showed no sign of stopping his pestering. It was not made public that chef Brullini works for us. In short, the chef was secretly working in our company.
Was all I said and concentrate my gaze on the stage, giving off a ‘stay away, I do not want to talk to you’ kind of air.
But the man proved to be persistent that I could not help but sigh in irritation.
“Oh. Are you going to invite the chef to work for you? I heard he already turned down countless offers.”
I ignored him, but he kept continuing until I breathed a mouthful of air, ready to give him a piece of my mind.
As I opened my mouth, right then and there, Lance’s arm flew around the backrest of my seat. It was a simple gesture. He did not even glance at me as he fixated his attention in front.
Nonetheless, it felt like his arm was around my shoulders, which made my whole body burned while I watched him with wide eyes.
Fred frowned and shot Lance a pointed glare. His jaws tightened, and his head snapped forward as he stopped bothering me altogether. He probably thought Lance was my boyfriend.
Lance was so casual about it, placing his arm around the backrest of my seat. I never dared let my imagination get the best of me. I knew Lance only did it out of politeness or who knows –– he just really wanted to stretch his arm.
For a minute, I gave Lance a sidelong glance with sparkling eyes, but he refused to return my gaze.
But I thought I saw a hint of a smile on his face, but it disappeared as it came.
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