Little did she know just how intensely that gaze had been fixed upon her.
In the early morning, Shalma Hughes ran down the stairs, carrying her bag in one hand while tying her hair up with the other.
As soon as she reached the hall, she saw Miss Laura already busy in the kitchen.
A mix of Chinese and Western breakfast dishes was laid out on the dining table.
Shalma casually grabbed a piece of bread, picked up a glass of milk, and started scarfing it down.
With her mouth stuffed full, she mumbled, “Miss Laura…
I need to catch a flight right now.
I forgot to mention it yesterday, but my secretary changed my ticket to this morning.”
Hearing her garbled words through a mouthful of food, Miss Laura walked out of the kitchen with a huff and shot her a glare.
Shalma froze under Miss Laura’s sudden glare.
She wondered if she had done something wrong again so early in the morning.
“Did you two have a fight?” Miss Laura didn’t beat around the bush.
Shalma forced down the bread in her mouth.
Only then did she remember that he had stayed over here last night as well.
“Where is he?”
“He was picked up bright and early.
He said he had to catch a flight, just like you.” Miss Laura stared intently at Shalma’s face.
“Did you have a fight yesterday?
Otherwise, why would he leave all by himself this morning without waiting for you?”
“We didn’t fight!
He’s just so busy, he wouldn’t waste a single second.
Don’t you agree?” Shalma’s beautiful eyes darted to the side as she tried to sound casual.
“Miss Laura!
I really have to go, or I’ll miss my flight.”
Miss Laura watched her delicate figure leave, feeling a sudden, inexplicable tightness in her chest.
She thought, “Silly girl!
Are you still thinking about him?”
Two months had passed since she returned to Aethelgard.
During these two months, Shalma had never seen Julian Winslow.
She would only occasionally catch glimpses of him in the highly entertaining tabloid magazines that Thea Grant bought.
The headlines were always eye-catching: the eldest young master of the Winslow Family spending the night with a certain actress at a hotel, or the eldest young master of the Winslow Family frequently dining with a certain young model recently.
One magazine even risked suspension by boldly exposing the names of those women, analyzing each one to see who could successfully climb the social ladder and become the matriarch of the Winslow Family.
Right now, Shalma was wearing a white suit, her beautiful long hair casually pinned up.
Her face no longer bore the heavy, flashy makeup from before, but was instead lightly powdered.
Just standing there, her beauty was dazzling enough to make one dizzy.
As she stared at the slowly boiling coffee, her mind involuntarily recalled his handsome face enduring the pain that day.
“Ms.
Hughes!
The coffee is ready,” Thea reminded her, leaning closer to check the brew.
Shalma quickly snapped back to reality.
“Oh!
Thank you!”
“Ms.
Hughes!
Can I ask you something?” Thea shuffled over to Shalma with the coy shyness of a little girl.
Shalma turned her beautiful eyes toward her and asked with a smile, “Looking at you, have you found someone you like?
Do you want me to play matchmaker for you?
Tell me!
Who is it?
I’ll definitely help if I can.”
I don’t have anyone I like!
I just wanted to ask if you know Mr.
Winslow from Winslow Corp, Ms.
Hughes.” Thea blinked, her eyes practically overflowing with admiration.
Shalma hadn’t expected her to ask this.
Her gaze shifted slightly as she poured the brewed coffee from the pot into a mug and took a light sip.
The bitterness of black coffee spread across her palate.
It was her favorite taste…
“We have business dealings.
We’ve met a few times,” she replied indifferently, showing no emotion.
“Ms.
Hughes!
Is Mr.
Winslow even more handsome in person than he is in photos?
I heard he has a very gentle temper.
All the women in our office treat him like their dream lover!
I’d love to see him with my own eyes.
Do you know how the media describes him, Ms.
Hughes?
Gentle and refined, radiating brilliance…” Thea chattered on to herself, completely oblivious to the slight change in Shalma’s expression.