CHAPTER 117: "THE AFTERNOON SOIRÉE"

"Now... will you do me the honor?" Roman’s voice was low, warm, almost teasing, but there was a tenderness in it that wrapped around Julie like a velvet ribbon.

His dark eyes—steady and unflinching—looked down at her, brimming with something unguarded, something that made the air between them feel softer.

Julie’s breath caught. The way he was looking at her—it wasn’t just affection, it was the kind of love that seemed to pull at her very chest.

A small, shy smile curved her lips, her lashes lowering as though the intensity of his gaze was too much to hold.

Her cheeks warmed, turning the faintest pink, and she found herself tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Without a word, she lifted her hand, almost instinctively, and placed it gently over his.

Her skin met the warmth of his palm, and that simple gesture drew a reaction she hadn’t expected—a sudden, boyish smile broke across his usually composed face, rare and unrestrained.

Roman’s fingers tightened around hers, and in one smooth motion, he laced them together, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of her hand as if committing the moment to memory.

Hand in hand, they began to walk toward the door of the salon’s private room.

The faint scent of jasmine hair oil and fresh-cut roses from the salon’s decorative vases lingered in the air.

The polished floor reflected the soft glow of crystal lights above them, and their joined hands seemed to stand out, almost as if the room itself were highlighting them.

As the pair stepped out, all eyes followed them.

The women inside—the stylists, the assistants, the curious clients—paused in their work to watch the quiet yet unmistakable display of affection.

It was the kind of scene that didn’t need words to be understood.

From behind, Lisa’s smile spread slowly, and before she could stop herself, it turned almost foolishly wide.

There was pride there, yes, but also a light, almost playful amusement at how effortlessly Roman and Julie seemed to fall into step together.

"No wonder you’re happy," came a soft, knowing voice from the side.

It belonged to the salon owner, an elegantly dressed woman with silver-threaded hair and kind eyes.

She had been Lisa’s old friend for years, long enough to catch nuances others might miss.

Lisa’s eyes twinkled as she turned to her. "And I believe you don’t have to ask about it."

The salon owner chuckled, her gaze flicking toward Roman and Julie’s retreating figures. "Yes... everything has been said loud enough by their actions."

Her words drew a ripple of light laughter from the younger women nearby, a quiet, approving sound that seemed to fill the room with warmth.

Lisa’s smile deepened. She didn’t bother to reply, because in truth, her friend was right—there was nothing left to explain.

The sound of the couple’s footsteps faded down the hall, but the glow they left behind lingered long after they had gone.

"Where are we going, Roman?" Julie asked softly, her voice breaking the quiet hum of the car.

She turned her head toward the man beside her, her curious eyes searching his profile.

He was effortlessly composed, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting loosely near the gear shift.

The faint afternoon light caught along the sharp lines of his jaw, making him look almost unreal.

"Somewhere," Roman replied, his deep voice calm, as if the answer was more than enough.

Without shifting his gaze from the road, he guided the wheel smoothly into a U-turn, the movement controlled and precise.

Julie tilted her head slightly, studying him for a moment longer.

She could have pressed, could have asked again, but there was something about the quiet certainty in his tone that made her let it go.

Instead, she gave a small smile, barely noticeable, and turned her face toward the window.

Outside, the city blurred past in a stream of muted colors—street vendors calling out their wares, the occasional aroma of roasted corn drifting in through the cracked window, the faint glimmer of sunlight bouncing off glass storefronts.

The rhythmic sound of the engine filled the silence between them, not heavy or awkward, but easy.

Minutes slipped by like pages turning in a book. Neither spoke, yet the air in the car felt warm, almost companionable.

At times, Julie caught herself stealing a glance at him—how his fingers tapped the steering wheel lightly at stoplights, the subtle crease in his brow when he focused.

And though he didn’t look at her, she had the faintest suspicion he knew she was watching.

After about forty minutes, the car slowed and turned into a wide, paved driveway lined with tall, softly lit trees.

Roman pulled smoothly into a parking space and switched off the engine.

Through the windshield, Julie’s eyes widened slightly—looming ahead of them was one of the most luxurious dining establishments she had ever seen.

Its grand entrance glowed under golden lighting, the building’s elegant facade a mix of glass and dark stone.

The faint sound of distant classical music drifted from somewhere inside.

Roman finally turned his head toward her. His gaze was steady, but there was a faint curve to his lips, almost as if he’d been waiting for her reaction.

"Shall we?" he asked, his voice low but inviting.

Julie blinked, caught between surprise and a flutter of anticipation in her chest. She was quick to nod, her smile blooming without her realizing it.

Roman stepped out first, coming around to her side to open the door.

The faint night breeze carried with it the scent of freshly cut flowers from the restaurant’s front garden.

As Julie stepped out, she felt his hand briefly touch the small of her back—steady, guiding—before they walked toward the grand entrance together.

Roman was quick to open his own door, the smooth, quiet sound of the Maserati’s hinges barely audible in the evening air. As always, he didn’t linger on his side.

With purposeful strides, he walked around the sleek white car, its polished surface gleaming under the soft glow of the restaurant’s exterior lights.

He reached Julie’s door and pulled it open with practiced ease.

Julie shifted, ready to place her foot on the ground, but Roman was quicker.

Before she could move, he bent slightly, extending his open palm in front of her in a gentlemanly gesture.

His eyes, calm yet attentive, flickered briefly to hers as if silently urging her to take it.

Julie’s lips curved into a small, shy smile.

She placed her small hand into his larger one, the warmth of his skin immediately enveloping hers.

Roman’s grip was steady but gentle as he helped her step gracefully out of the low car.

The moment her feet touched the ground, he released her hand only long enough to close the door behind her with a soft click.

Julie’s gaze drifted, a faint prickling sensation brushing the back of her neck. It felt as though eyes were on them—more than a few.

She turned her head slightly and, sure enough, caught the curious stares of several people nearby.

Quickly, she looked away, pretending not to notice.

It wasn’t surprising. When Roman had stepped out of his white Maserati earlier, the car itself had drawn attention—its tinted windows, sleek curves, and unmistakable luxury all but demanded it.

But the real spectacle came when people realized the man inside.

He didn’t carry himself with the aloof detachment common to the wealthy.

Instead, he’d walked around to open the door for a woman, even bending slightly as he did so.

The scene was enough to make passing girls glance twice—some watching with open envy. Yet among them, one didn’t look merely envious.

Her expression was taut with something colder: disbelief, edged with a sharp undercurrent of jealousy.

"Roman... people are watching," Julie murmured, leaning closer so only he could hear.

Her tone was hushed, but her eyes carried that mixture of shyness and slight discomfort.

"Let them stare," Roman replied easily, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That’s the work of those who have nothing better to do."

There was a lightness in his voice, as though the attention amused him more than it bothered him.

And it all because of Julie

Straightening fully, he tossed the car keys to the valet with an effortless flick of his wrist.

"Good evening, sir. Ma’am," the doorman greeted warmly, pulling the entrance open wide.

"Good evening," Roman replied with a polite nod. Julie followed beside him, their fingers intertwining as naturally as if it had always been that way.

They walked side by side, and for a moment, they might have been mistaken for high school sweethearts—hands linked, steps in sync, eyes forward.

At the grand Chinese doors ahead, two uniformed guards stood tall.

The intricate red panels were carved with gold dragons that gleamed under the entryway lights.

As Roman and Julie approached, the guards bowed deeply, then pushed the doors open.

"Good day, Mr. Thompson," they greeted in unison.

"Good day, Lurid. Louis," Roman returned smoothly, his tone familiar.

As they were about to step inside, Roman caught the subtle shift in the guards’ expressions.

Their bows had been polite, their tones respectful—but their eyes lingered on the beautiful woman beside him, Julie.

It wasn’t the casual glance of strangers; there was a quiet curiosity in their gaze, as though they were waiting for him to speak.

He understood it instantly. Seeing her beside him would naturally raise questions.

Roman Thompson rarely came here with company—especially not a woman.

For years, whenever he visited this place, he had arrived alone, his presence brisk and businesslike.

Tonight was different.