No Sex for Six Years Because of Her? I'm Done novel Chapter 60

**Chapter 60: The Enigmatic Landlord**

There was a world of possibilities awaiting her, far beyond the confines of love.

Amelia straightened her posture, allowing a small, hopeful smile to grace her lips. Today felt different, charged with potential.

The following morning, Amelia arrived at Driftwood Café a full ten minutes ahead of schedule, just as they had arranged. The café exuded a warm and inviting atmosphere, with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of baked goods, creating a comforting embrace.

In preparation for this meeting, Amelia had poured her heart and soul into her work. She had spent countless hours the night before, sketching out more than a dozen unique gown designs, each one a reflection of her creativity and passion. She meticulously organized them into a sleek, elegant folder, ensuring everything was just right.

As she pushed open the heavy wooden door, the bells hanging above chimed melodiously, their sound echoing softly in the cozy space.

A young woman clad in a simple uniform approached her, her voice gentle and welcoming. “Hello, do you have an appointment?”

“Hi there. I’m supposed to meet someone at ten,” Amelia replied, her heart fluttering slightly with anticipation.

“You must be Ms. Harlow, correct?” The young woman smiled as she checked the records. “Mr. Whitmore is already waiting for you in the Rainfall Lounge. Allow me to escort you there.”

Mr. Whitmore?

A sudden jolt of surprise coursed through Amelia.

She followed the receptionist down a winding hallway adorned with wooden panels, each step echoing softly in the quiet café.

The receptionist paused at the door to the Rainfall Lounge, gently pushing it open with a flourish. With a gracious gesture, she indicated for Amelia to enter before quietly slipping away.

Inside, an older gentleman in a tailored black suit sat serenely behind a small table, his movements deliberate as he brewed tea with an air of calm precision. Upon hearing her entrance, he looked up, his eyes radiating warmth and politeness.

Amelia approached him, her voice tinged with caution. “Hello, are you my landlord?”

For a brief moment, the old man seemed to freeze, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes. Then, he nodded with a composed demeanor. “Yes, indeed. Hello, Ms. Harlow. Please, do take a seat. I am Brad Whitmore.”

As he spoke, he slid a steaming cup of tea toward her, the fragrant steam curling invitingly into the air.

“Thank you, Mr. Whitmore.” Amelia settled into her seat, carefully placing her folder to the side.

He abruptly halted mid-sentence, as if he had nearly divulged something he shouldn’t have. Quickly, he redirected his thoughts. “It’s no wonder my wife can’t seem to forget your work.”

Amelia caught the slight hesitation in his words but chose not to probe further. Instead, she kept the conversation flowing smoothly. “I’m thrilled to hear that you like them. Do you or your wife have any specific preferences? Perhaps a color she particularly favors? Or a type of fabric you both lean towards—like silk?”

These inquiries were fundamental, shaping the entire design process.

However, his response took her by surprise.

Brad removed his glasses and pondered for a moment. Then, with a vague air, he replied, “Well, my wife’s tastes tend to fluctuate. She enjoys soft colors, but she also has a penchant for vibrant hues. As for the fabric, anything that is comfortable and of high quality would suffice. What truly matters is whether the design resonates with her.”

His answer, while seemingly perfect, felt frustratingly ambiguous.

Amelia maintained her smile, yet the peculiar sensation in her chest intensified.

Someone willing to invest significantly in a custom gown should possess at least a general idea of what they desire. But he didn’t. It was an unusual situation.

Remaining patient, she attempted a different approach. “Then, what kind of occasion is the gown meant for? Is it intended for everyday wear, or is it for a special event?”