His hair was slicked back, revealing a face of unparalleled handsomeness, radiating elegance and natural authority.
Nathaniel Fu shrugged off his coat and handed it to Secretary Song before striding toward Yara Lu.
Her eyes found him immediately, even amidst the bustling crowd. His noble bearing and calm, resolute steps made him stand out effortlessly. The regal aura surrounding him stirred every heartbeat in the room.
"Nancheng~" Yara called softly, her voice carrying a tender lilt.
Nathaniel reached her side and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Have you been waiting long?"
She looked up, her delicate demeanor reserved only for this man. "Yes, I've been waiting for you for quite some time."
"Sorry, I just came straight from a meeting," Nathaniel explained gently.
Yara's lips curved into a faint smile. "Alright, I forgive you."
With a light squeeze of her shoulders, Nathaniel gestured toward a private booth nearby. "Let's go over there."
Before following him, Yara turned and waved casually to the circle of wealthy young ladies lingering nearby. "I'll catch up with you later."
The women's eyes trailed after Nathaniel. His presence was so commanding, so untouchably refined, that they couldn't look at him directly—only sneak glances that left them blushing and breathless.
Jealousy rippled through them like sparks.
"Yaoyao, go on, be with Mr. Fu," one of them said with barely concealed envy.
Inside the private room, the two settled onto a sofa. Nathaniel studied her carefully. "I heard you weren't happy with the crystal heels you wore today?"
Yara leaned into his chest with a faint pout. "Mm, the diamonds didn't sparkle enough. I prefer them more radiant."
"Then have them adjusted until they suit you perfectly."
"And the engagement dress," she added softly, "I've been trying to get in touch with Little Buddha, the designer under CC, but they haven't replied yet."
CC—the pinnacle of international luxury—boasted three renowned creative figures: King, the genius of perfume; Little Buddha, the iconic fashion designer; and Baolier, the master of jewelry.
Perhaps only Little Buddha would dare decline Nathaniel Fu's request for an engagement gown.
But Yara was firm. She wanted no one else—only this legendary figure could design her wedding dress.
Nathaniel's sharp brows tightened ever so slightly, as if an unspoken thought crossed his mind.For the briefest instant, an image of another woman in white flickered in his mind—one with quiet eyes and a calm smile. He quickly pushed the thought away.
Yara tilted her head at him. "Nancheng, what are you thinking about?"
She had noticed that ever since his return, Nathaniel's mind sometimes drifted for the briefest moments. His distractions lasted no more than seconds, but a woman's sixth sense was too keen to miss them.
Though he still treated her with indulgent affection, there was a subtle distance she couldn't ignore. He seemed… changed.
But Nathaniel only answered with calm composure, his expression unreadable. "Nothing."
When he lowered his gaze, his sculpted, exquisite features came into the light. How could any woman not lose herself in such perfection?
Yara wrapped her arms around his neck, twisting slightly so that she could perch on his strong thighs. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his flawless cheek.
Nathaniel's large hand settled firmly on her slender waist, steadying her. "What are you doing?"
Her beauty was undeniable, but nestled in his arms like this, she looked even more enchanting.
"Nancheng," Yara whispered, her voice carrying both softness and insistence, "kiss me."
In the dim, luxurious light, the man's tall figure in a black suit exuded dignity and strength, while the woman, draped in a black rhinestone slip dress, looked stunning and ethereal. The delicate tension between restraint and desire sparked a heady collision of energy.
From outside, the wealthy youths caught a glimpse and couldn't help but whistle teasingly.
Yara's arms tightened around his neck. "Nancheng, kiss me."
This time, Nathaniel lowered his head and captured her crimson lips in a kiss.Yet even as their lips met, a faint shadow crossed his heart—an unsettling reminder that passion didn't always equal belonging.