At the end of September, in the capital, the upscale restaurant Chocho, the old-style private dining room exuded unparalleled opulence. A strange, inexplicable atmosphere had invaded the space.
Mr. and Mrs. Miller stared fearfully at the imposing man seated opposite them. They and their daughters exchanged anxious glances but didn't show their baseness despite their nervousness. Their faces displayed an obedience that testified to their inferior status.
Though relatively young, the man exuded a staggering aura, threatening to crush anyone who dared cross him, even by accident. Anna Miller, fascinated, watched this man whose charm seemed to embody an almost naive purity. She served a tender steak from his plate, flattering him, "Mr. Wesley, please taste this!"
Alice Miller, at her parents' behest, tried to calm her anxiety. She gently nudged her sister to remind her to remain more serene.
Jason Wesley, displaying a cold distance, watched Anna with undisguised mockery. He was motionless, his attitude bearing witness to a subtle but obvious strength. His long arms rested discreetly on the armrests of his chair, his fingers pressing rhythmically, which, coming from him, evoked elegance and prestige. It would have been not nice if anyone else had done so, but not with him.
Suddenly, with a jab of his fork, he stopped. Quickly, his bodyguard approached and removed the worn plate, replacing it with a new china one. The Miller family was embarrassed by this gesture and blushed in confusion.
"I... I apologize!" "The Cutlery was... new, never used before," Anna murmured, her face turning pale and her gaze nervously fixed on the crystal glass in front of Jason.
"Mr. Wesley, my daughter didn't mean to be rude. Please excuse us," Andrew Miller added with palpable concern, almost ready to kneel. His wife Amy subtly held him upright, suppressing his tremors, and apologized, "Yes, Mr. Wesley, please forgive us!"
He passed a moment of worry over Jason's breathtakingly beautiful face. In whole light, his seductive charm burst with a particular menace, his keen, cold eyes dazzling the Miller family. That cold seemed to come out of the deepest winter's night, arousing great fear.
"Does the Miller family only have two daughters?" he asked. A flicker of panic briefly appeared on Andrew's face, but Amy quickly replied, "Yes, Monsieur Wesley, we have two daughters: the eldest is Anna, and the youngest is Alice."
"Who is this pretentious person?" Jason quickly picked up his wine glass, fiddled with it, then slowly sipped. He smiled in amusement, clearly revealing his disgust.
He found the two girls very unattractive, even ugly. His grandfather insisted he chooses a Miller girl for a wife as if the Miller family genes were worthy of them.
"What? What?" Mr. and Mrs. Miller's faces expressed confusion.
At last, he drank the wine. Anna, her heart pounding, tried to suppress her anxiety. Alice, fascinated by the man's exceptional profile, felt a little dizzy. Even the simple act of sipping a glass seemed captivating!
Why was it necessary to associate such a brilliant man with Anna, a busty idiot? She clenched her hand tightly, her nails digging into her palm, causing intense pain.
At the entrance, a commotion could be heard. "Make way, I'm Stacy, daughter of the Miller family!"
All the members of the Miller family suddenly changed their expressions. "Let her in," Jason ordered, gesturing with interest.
It has finally arrived, albeit slightly late.
Standing before the door was an attractive-looking woman with a penetrating gaze. Stacy looked up, and her deep black eyes plunged into a mysterious darkness.
The person lived up to her name: a fascinating beauty! "No wonder they don't want me here. He's a real hunk." Her eyes sparkled, and she whistled lazily, not even trying to hide her amazement at the man's appearance as she slowly entered the private room.
