Chapter 3
This was Cecilia’s first blind date. To make a good impression, she stopped by her apartment after work–washed her hair, slipped into a soft blue dress, dabbed on just enough makeup to freshen up. With everything ready, she finally stepped out the door.
As Cecilia arrived at the café, her phone buzzed with a text from her mom, [His name is Henry Quinn, 28 years old, works in marketing at an international company with a 15K monthly salary. He’s 178cm, average build, ordinary–looking, a bit shy. He’ll be waiting with a white rose on the table. Good luck!]
Cecilia pressed her lips together to suppress a chuckle. ‘Seriously?‘ she thought. ‘A white rose as some secret signal? Why couldn’t Mom just send his photo like a normal person?‘
Cecilia walked into the café. It was not too busy for a weekday evening. Near the window, a man in a dark suit sat waiting, a fresh white rose standing in the water glass before him.
Swallowing her nerves, Cecilia straightened her shoulders and walked over. “Hi, I’m Cecilia Jordan,” she said, offering a small smile.
The man was leaning back comfortably in his chair, casually checking stock prices on his tablet. At her introduction, his fingers paused, and he slowly looked up. The moment their eyes met, Cecilia froze.
The man sitting before her wore a perfectly fitted suit that screamed expensive taste. His sharp eyes looked calm on the surface, but Cecilia could sense something hotter hiding underneath, like a banked fire waiting to flare up.
Cecilia blinked in surprise. ‘This is what Mom considers average? The guy belongs on a magazine cover. She suddenly realized she had been staring too long when he still hadn’t spoken. “Excuse me, are you my blind date?”
Simon Hall glanced up briefly, a faint smile touching his lips. “Yes. Please have a seat, Ms. Jordan.” His voice was calm and measured as he gestured toward the empty chair across from him, his movements deliberate yet effortless.
Cecilia settled into her chair, noticing a half–empty coffee cup already on the table. A quick check of her watch confirmed her punctuality.
Simon caught her glance before she could speak. “I came a bit early,” he offered casually. “What can I get you to drink, Ms. Jordan?”
Cecilia was surprised by how attentive he was. “I’ll look at the menu,” she said, settling on mocha and cake.
The silence stretched uncomfortably. ‘What do people even say on these awkward first meets?‘ she stole a glance at him, catching his shallow breaths. ‘Mom warned he’s shy. Maybe I should go first?‘
Noticing the stock market updates on his screen, Cecilia broke the silence. “I heard you recently moved back from overseas,” she began, fingers tracing her coffee cup’s rim. “How’s the reverse culture shock? And your new position? Is the workload. manageable?”
“Work’s under control,” he replied, rotating his coffee cup absently. “The time zones still have me wired, hence the late caffeine.” His posture relaxed slightly as he made steady eye contact, engaged but never intrusive. “And your line of work, Ms. Jordan?”
‘Did mom really not tell him anything about me?‘ Cecilia kept her smile polite as she reached for her bag. “I handle exhibition planning in project management,” she said, offering her business card. “Though actually, I’m leaving to start my
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own design studio.”
Simon accepted the card, his thumb tracing the embossed letters of her name. “I should apologize,” he said with a slight tilt of his head. “I didn’t bring mine today.” His tone carried genuine regret.
“No problem,” Cecilia said. Her gaze lingered on his long, elegant fingers. Then she noticed the watch on his wrist, clearly one of those rare pieces worth a small fortune. His tailored suit also spoke of serious money.
‘Mom’s average salary description seems way off. Family wealth maybe. She thought, but asking would be terribly rude.
The server arrived just then with her coffee and cake. With all the dishes, the table was getting crowded. Cecilia looked down when his hand moved toward the ashtray. “It’s fine,” she said quickly. “Feel free to smoke if you’d like.”
Simon held her gaze, unblinking. “I don’t smoke,” he said simply, pushing the ashtray away to make room. His mouth quirked at her assumption. Cecilia
gave an embarrassed little laugh, nodding.
She absolutely hated cigarette smoke. That stale smell soaked into everything. Back when she was with Gavin, she had come home every night smelling like an ashtray. It was exhausting to wash her hair at midnight just to get the stink out before bed.
The topic shifted to Cecilia’s vision for her future studio. Surprisingly, the conversation flowed easily. Though initially quiet, Simon gradually opened up, guiding their discussion with considerate questions that showed genuine interest in her work.
During their conversation, Simon’s phone vibrated on the table, it’s sudden glow making him frown. Realizing he needed to leave, they quickly exchanged WhatsApp contacts.
Cecilia nearly smiled when she saw his profile a cute cat and just the initial “H,” surprisingly casual for such a formal man. She saved his contact as [Henry Quinn (Peninsula Café)], using the location as her private reminder.
Rising from his seat, Simon smoothly extended his hand across the table. “Ms. Jordan, it was a pleasure meeting you. I’ll treat you to dinner next time,” he said, his voice warm yet professional.
Cecilia held his gaze as their hands met, noticing his fingers tightened slightly before releasing. “Sure. Next time.” She returned the pleasantry while knowing how these things went. Polite words exchanged, vague plans made, most never followed through.
A black Rolls–Royce waited at the curb as Simon walked out. “Trouble inside, sir?” his driver asked, holding the door open.
“Just someone I knew before,” Simon said, tucking Cecilia’s card carefully into his wallet as he got in. The soft leather seats welcomed him with familiar comfort.
*****
At Foster Group’s executive floor, Frank couldn’t help but notice the change. For several straight days now, his boss had shown up tie–less, his usual sharp demeanor replaced by visible irritation. After a meeting, Gavin called the secretary’s desk. “Bring me coffee.”
Stella entered wearing a tight skirt suit that showed off her figure, Gavin sat at his desk, looking polished as he studied some papers, completely unaware of her presence.
Stella moved closer and leaned down with calculated grace, her top button strategically undone. But Gavin continued ignoring her. To draw his attention, Stella pretended to stumble, spilling the coffee out.
Gavin reacted instantly, yanking his documents to safety. Then he looked up, his expression icy. “Stella, being my secretary
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requires competence, not just a pretty face. Don’t make amateur mistakes like this.”
His mind flashed to Cecilia, always efficient, strictly professional, never letting personal matters interfere. She was definitely his right–hand woman at work.
Stella’s flirtatious smile stiffened. This wasn’t how things usually went. Gavin had always played along with her little acts before. His sudden coldness confused her. “I’m sorry,” she stammered, dropping her gaze to the floor.
“I’m not trying to scold you,” Gavin said, his voice losing its edge. “Just focus on doing your job well, okay?” He gestured toward her undone button. “Fix your shirt and get me a fresh coffee.” Stella nodded quickly, her cheeks flushing as she hurried out.
After a while, Stella returned carefully balancing a new coffee cup and a plate of cookies. “Mr. Foster, I got those premium Azure Mountain beans,” she said, placing them on his desk. “Freshly ground this morning. And these cookies should complement the flavor nicely.”
The rich coffee aroma filled the air as Gavin lifted the cup. But after one sip, his face soured and he set it down abruptly. “Doesn’t taste right,” he muttered, unconsciously comparing it to Cecilia’s perfect brews. “Don’t we have any proper beans left in the pantry?”
“No, sir,” Stella replied, her fingers nervously twisting the tray edge. “How could this fail? I bought the most expensive beans
in town.‘
Gavin waved Stella away, massaging his throbbing temples. ‘Damn it, he thought, ‘why do I miss her coffee so much? Is there something wrong with me?‘ These past afternoons without that perfect caffeine kick had left him dragging through meetings in a foul mood.
Gavin finally dialed Cecilia’s number. When she answered, he cut straight to the point, “Stella’s sick. I need temporary help from someone who knows the job.” His voice carried that old assurance, certain she would jump at this offer. “Just cover the desk for a few days. You know how things work here.”
