Chapter139 Too Busy Having Dinner with Her Ex-Husband?
The next day, noon.
Miranda closed the last project proposal and raised her hand to rub her stiff neck, breathing a long sigh of relief.
Finally finished.
She picked up her coffee and took a sip. Just as she was about to stretch and relax her tense nerves, the phone on the corner of her desk vibrated.
"Bzzt..."
The screen lit up. A brief text message appeared.
Sender: Harrison.
[I'm downstairs at your company.]
Miranda's brow, which had just relaxed, furrowed slightly. The hint of a relaxed smile at the corner of her mouth faded.
She stared at that line of text, her fingertip hovering over the screen for two seconds before replying with "Okay."
Suppressing the inexplicable irritation in her heart, she gathered her things simply. Miranda stood and headed downstairs.
The moment she walked out through the revolving door, she immediately spotted Harrison by the curb.
The man leaned against the car door. Today he wasn't wearing a suit but had changed into a dark gray casual shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing smoothly lined forearms.
That face Miranda had once been infatuated with now wore a gentle smile, drawing frequent glances from passing women.
Seeing Miranda emerge, Harrison straightened and took a few quick steps forward, pulling open the passenger door with gentlemanly grace.
"All done with work?"
His tone was familiar, as if there had never been any unpleasantness between them.
Miranda didn't look at him, only staring at the door handle, her tone cool. "Let's go. I have things this afternoon."
The car smoothly merged into traffic.
Throughout the drive, Harrison tried several times to start conversation, chatting about everything from recent weather to her recovery after the mine accident. Miranda only responded with monosyllables like "mm," "oh," and "it's fine."
The atmosphere was somewhat oppressive, even carrying a suffocating awkwardness.
In less than twenty minutes, the car stopped beside a street with some history.
"We're here."
Miranda opened her eyes and turned to look out the window.
A private restaurant with tasteful decor came into view. Seeing that familiar sign, Miranda's eyes flickered.
This was an old establishment with very authentic food, but the location was somewhat out of the way.
"Let's get out."
Harrison had already unbuckled his seatbelt and got out first.
The two walked into the restaurant one after the other.
It was the lunch rush, but the dining room wasn't noisy. Soothing piano music floated through the air.
A server led them to a spot by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The view here was excellent, overlooking the sycamore trees lining the street below. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, serene and beautiful.
As soon as Miranda sat down, Harrison smoothly took the menu. Without even looking, he directly recited several dish names.
All were flavors Miranda loved, and he even remembered all her dietary restrictions.
The server noted it down and left.
Harrison poured Miranda a glass of lemon water and pushed it in front of her, his eyes holding anticipation and nostalgia.
"Miranda, do you remember this place?"
Miranda looked at the glass before her, her fingertips rubbing the glass surface. She said nothing.
Harrison continued on his own. "This is where we had our first official date. That day you wore a white dress. You looked so beautiful..."
His voice was low and tender, as if lost in some beautiful memory.
"Harrison." Miranda suddenly interrupted him.
She looked up, her gaze meeting the man across from her coolly, her brow furrowing imperceptibly.
If Harrison hadn't mentioned it, she really couldn't quite remember.
"Let's not bring up the past." Miranda's voice was flat, betraying no emotion.
...
Meanwhile, on the other side of the restaurant's second floor, in the largest private room.
The atmosphere was lively and enthusiastic.
A group of men in casual clothes but with muscular builds sat together.
"Boss, this place is incredible!"
One team member stuffed a piece of meat in his mouth and gave a thumbs up, his words muffled.
"Yeah, Boss, how'd you find this place? It's so hidden. If you hadn't led us here, we'd have circled around eight times and still not found it."
Clifton sat in the head position.
Today he wore a simple black T-shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. That inherently noble, aloof air was somewhat softened by the casual atmosphere.
Hearing his team members' praise, Clifton took a measured sip of tea, the corner of his mouth curling almost imperceptibly.
"My wife recommended it to me before."
His voice was low, his tone carrying barely concealed pride.
"Woah..."
A few of the bolder team members started teasing, winking and laughing.
"So it was Ma'am's recommendation! No wonder the taste is so good!"
"But where is Ma'am? Why didn't you bring her today?"
Clifton swept a glance at these troublemakers, a hint of warmth crossing his eyes.
"She's busy today. Next time."
The private room filled with cheerful energy.
After a few rounds of drinks, one team member got up to use the restroom.
The restaurant's restroom was at the end of the hallway, requiring passage through a semi-open corridor. Looking down from the corridor, one could see the window-side seating in the main dining area.
Coming out of the restroom, as he passed the corner of the corridor, he habitually glanced down at the dining room below.
That glance made him freeze in his tracks.
"Ma'am?"
Immediately after, he saw the man sitting across from Miranda suddenly pick up a napkin from the table, lean forward, and reach his hand directly toward Miranda's face.
The gesture carried an indescribable intimacy and suggestiveness, as if about to wipe the corner of her mouth.
The next second, though Miranda turned her head to avoid it, she didn't stand up and leave.
The team member frowned and returned to the private room.
"Boss, step outside for a moment. I need to tell you something."
Seeing his serious expression, Clifton stood and strode out of the private room, closing the door behind him.
The hallway became much quieter.
Clifton looked at his team member and asked in a deep voice, "What is it?"
The team member hesitated for a second, pointing toward the corridor, his voice very low. "Captain, I think I saw your wife. She's downstairs in the dining room having a meal with someone."
Combat boots struck the wooden floor with dull thuds. Reaching the corner, Clifton stopped and looked in the direction indicated.
Miranda was indeed sitting at a table, having a meal with someone.
And the man across from her was Harrison.
From Clifton's angle, he could clearly see the look in Harrison's eyes as he gazed at Miranda.
That look was possessive.
"Heh."
Clifton felt as if someone had stuffed a water-soaked ball of cotton in his chest, suffocating, accompanied by barely suppressible violence.
His hand on the railing suddenly clenched, veins bulging on the back of his hand, knuckles white.
So her so-called "busy" meant being busy having dinner with her ex-husband?
Clifton's eyes narrowed slightly, a dark storm churning in those deep pupils.
The team member beside him sensed the low pressure radiating from his boss. He carefully glanced at Clifton's expression, dark enough to drip water, and tried awkwardly to smooth things over.
"C-Captain, that man must be one of Miranda's business partners, right? After all, Miranda runs a company. Business discussions inevitably happen over meals."
Clifton ignored the person beside him. He simply took one long, deep look at the pair downstairs, then abruptly turned and strode back.
The team member stood in place, watching his boss's retreating back, slapping his forehead in dismay.
Wondering if he'd just caused trouble.