Chapter 237 Eyes Met
Amelia stood a few steps behind and slightly off to the side, positioned just out of Michael's line of sight.
From her position, she couldn't see his expression. All she could make out was his posture—straight-backed in the chair, a charcoal-gray shirt paired with precisely tailored black trousers. The fabric traced the broad line of his shoulders and tapered to a narrow waist.
Even from behind, there was an understated elegance about him, a cool composure that drew the eye without effort. She noticed a few young women nearby lifting their phones, sneaking photos as if they couldn't help themselves.
It was probably the first time Amelia had seen Michael in what could be mistaken for a private moment with another woman.
But then, her gaze shifted—and she spotted Eric standing right behind him, equally crisp in a suit. The ever-loyal executive assistant hadn't even taken a seat, holding a thick stack of white documents while listening intently.
Michael was the man Amelia had chosen. By nature, she should have felt possessive. Most people, seeing someone they cared about in conversation with another woman, would feel a spark of anger, jealousy, or doubt.
Yet nothing about the scene in front of her warranted those emotions. The cafe was bustling, the conversation was in plain sight, and Eric was standing there with business files. Clearly, this was work.
If it was part of Michael's job, she was not going to interrupt. Whatever questions she had could wait until they were alone.
She was about to move away when Eric happened to glance over his shoulder—and froze.
For a split second, he thought he was mistaken. But as his eyes focused, recognition hit hard. Amelia. No doubt about it.
His gaze flicked from her to the woman seated across from Michael, a ripple of unease tightening in his chest. The woman was Emily Anderson, sister of the Silvercrest Real Estate CEO , from Border Ridge City, here to stand in for her brother in a business negotiation. But she was still a woman.
What were the odds that Amelia would walk into this cafe at that exact moment... and see Michael face-to-face with someone like Emily?
Would she misunderstand?
Eric knew this was a professional setting, and normally he would never interrupt Michael mid-meeting. But he also knew one thing with absolute certainty—no deal, no contract, no profit matters more to Michael than Amelia.
He stepped forward, leaning down to murmur, "Mr. Johnson... Ms. Martinez is behind us."
Michael's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. He turned his head.
Across half the cafe, their eyes locked.
Michael's expression remained composed, but Amelia caught the flicker of surprise in his gaze—and the sharper edge of tension, the kind that came from fearing she might misread what she saw.
Emily, perfectly madeup, followed his line of sight to Amelia. Her brows lifted slightly. "Mr. Johnson... is that young woman a friend of yours?"
"Excuse me," Michael said, rising to his feet without hesitation, his voice cool. "We'll have to end here. I have another matter to attend to."
He didn't waver. In that moment, Amelia was the only thing on his mind.
Emily blinked, startled, pushing up from her chair. "Wait, Mr. Johnson, you're leaving? What about our cooperation—"
She reached toward his sleeve, but he stepped back, avoiding her touch with a faint frown.
Her hand hovered awkwardly in the air.
Michael's tone was firm, edged with frost. "There's no need for physical contact."
"Your brother's absence could have been communicated in advance, not after I arrived.
"Partnerships are built on mutual respect and sincerity. I've shown mine. I haven't seen yours.
"If that's the case, we'll discuss cooperation another time."
The finality in his voice left no room for argument.
Emily hadn't expected the meeting to collapse so abruptly. She opened her mouth to explain, but Michael didn't give her the chance.
His eyes lifted toward Amelia, and he started forward—only to stop short.
A man had appeared from the rear of the cafe, walking straight toward her.
He was tall , lean, with the symmetry of a runway model. His hair was a muted gold, his eyes a pale green, and his profile was almost impossibly clean-cut.
In one hand he carried a takeaway coffee; in the other, a small clear box tied with a delicate ribbon. His movements were smoothand deliberate, his smile warm as he reached her. "Amelia, this is for you.
"I saw this calming aromatherapy blend at the counter while ordering. It carries a hint of coffee in the scent, and the design... well, it reminded me of you.
"I've noticed you haven't been sleeping well lately. I hope it helps you rest tonight."
Jasper's voice was gentle. But as he spoke, he realized Amelia wasn't looking at the gift—her eyes had shifted elsewhere.
He followed her gaze, landing on a tall figure only a few meters away. Confusion flickered in his expression.
Blinking once, he glanced back at her. "What is it, Amelia? Do you know that man?"