Jackson returned to his seat behind his desk and hummed, “Mm.”
Amy drew in a shaky breath and strolled back to her seat feebly. It was then that Jackson suddenly asked, “So, where are you two going for snacks? I think there’s catering in this building, no? Why skip dinner?”
He seemed to be talking to Amy, but it was quite apparent that Tiffany was the real subject of the question.
Amy mulled over her words for a bit before answering, “Well, Miss Lane had been working real hard lately, so she hadn’t gotten the time. As for snacks, there’s a nearby street filled with seafood vendors that just started their business, and I heard praises from our coworkers who’d been there. I was hoping to try ‘em out. Are you interested too, Mr. West?”
Tiffany swore that Amy’s brain must have stopped working to think this was a good idea. They had waited for the entire day to leave the office behind and reward themselves with a relaxing session of good food, yet, here she was, inviting the source of their stress. How on Earth was anyone going to relax then? And why was Amy so calm? Was she not afraid at all?
Tiffany hoped against hope that Jackson would decline the offer. Surely his royal, high-class taste buds could not stomach something as plebeian as street food, right?
As though intercepting some sort of message from Tiffany’s expression, Jackson knowingly accepted Amy’s invitation. “Alright. I haven’t had some street food for a pretty long while. It’s pretty nice to enjoy those from time to time.”
Tiffany’s head fell in a defeated swing. Fine, then! Looks like she could only rely on food to dispel the frustration in her mind now. After all, it was not like she dared talk back at him.
In the Tremont Estate, Arianne—with Smore in her arms—enjoyed the cool evening breeze in their yard with Mark.
Staying in an air-conditioned environment all the time could sometimes freeze their body so much that their bones felt brittle, so having the heat being dissipated by nature’s gusts was an enjoyable change.
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