That night, Roman clapped his hands as if to smooth down her soft hair but froze mid-air. Being a gentleman with magnanimity...was utterly frustrating!
TWAN was different from what he imagined.
From the plane, the city below appeared with its modern skyscrapers and gray-white apartment rooftops, weaving a bizarre urban aesthetic. The scattered patches of greenery reminded him of a complicated yet alluring little maid.
Yes, he hadn't expected to use the word "complicated" to describe her. In fact, her emotions were so transparent they were almost easy to read.
But he couldn't figure out why she wanted to leave.
Nathan furrowed his brow slightly. The thought of her abrupt departure always left him suffocated.
Not for any sentimental nonsense, of course. The real issue was that he couldn't understand her actions—especially the way her leaving felt as though she'd stolen a piece of his memory.
Yes, that was it. That was why he had broken his rule of forgetting women. For someone who viewed women as mere bed companions, lingering thoughts of one were unprecedented.
And yet, it wasn't Victoria he found himself thinking of, but the little maid.
Even Nathan couldn't sort it out. He only knew that she held the answers to his doubts.
Like why Victoria had suddenly become so different.
Ever since he met Victoria, she'd always been aloof and difficult to approach. But that night, she was as fiery as a siren. And after that night? She reverted to being cold and unapproachable.
Victoria's skin, cool to the touch, was like that of a lifeless fish. He didn't even feel the desire to kiss her lips. Where had her wild passion from that night gone?
As a gentleman, he couldn't outright ask a lady such a question. But the more he thought about it, the bigger his doubts grew. Only the little maid could help him solve this mystery—by revealing how Victoria had ended up in his bed.
Coming all the way to TWAN just for this reason? Too impulsive, too far-fetched. They said TWAN had over 20 million people. Finding her among such a vast population would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
But Nathan wasn't the kind to give up. Since he couldn't find her in France, why not try her home country?
Still, he had no intention of hiring a private investigator again. Heaven knows how many variations there were of "Sophie" when translated. He didn't even know the correct spelling of her name!
A little maid who vanished like morning mist. Would they ever meet again?
Zora Carr, who had accompanied him to sign the contract, interrupted Nathan's reverie.
"One euro for your thoughts," Zora said. They were not just business partners but good friends. Yet Nathan, with his aristocratic upbringing, rarely shared his feelings.
Nathan gave him a sidelong glance. "I miss francs more."
"Fine!" Zora pulled out a one-franc coin. "Buy your thoughts with this, then."
Nathan accepted it without hesitation. "I was thinking...we've landed at the airport."
The hotel went out of its way to make him feel at home.
Nathan was impressed by the attention to detail, from the bedding to the décor. The presidential suite felt almost like his estate.
Of course, there were no opulent crystal ornaments here. Frowning slightly, he noticed the curtains were too thin. He disliked being woken by sunlight.
"Is there something Mr. Tino is dissatisfied with?" asked Gaga, the manager of the guest services department.
"The curtains—I prefer ones that block out sunlight."
"Oh!" Manager Gaga lifted a corner of the curtain to demonstrate its light-blocking capability under the overhead lamp. "You see, though the fabric appears light, it's completely opaque."
"Very good. You're quite meticulous." Nathan smiled graciously.
The manager nearly fainted. How could someone be so breathtakingly handsome? His nobility, his perfection...oh, heavens!
Struggling to maintain her composure, Manager Gaga replied, "If there's anything else you need, please let me know. Breakfast will be delivered shortly."
"Thank you."
Even breakfast surprised Nathan: French bread with foie gras from Toulouse, his favorite. French coffee without sugar. The hotel's effort to cater to his tastes was evident.
By the time lunch featured fresh carpaccio paired with cappuccino and dinner included green asparagus with truffle slices, followed by an exquisite 1985 Tino vintage, Nathan finally couldn't help but ask:
"Who designed the menu?"
"It was our public relations manager. Does it suit your tastes?" Manager Xu replied respectfully.
"She put in quite an effort," Nathan said with appreciation, switching to English naturally—a rarity for most French people.
"It's a 'she.' Manager Gaga is female," He clarified.
"Gaga?" Nathan found the surname intriguing. "Is it the Chinese word for 'sand'?"
Manager Gaga was surprised. "Your Chinese is excellent!"
"My mother is Chinese," Nathan said casually. "But you haven't answered my question."
"Yes, it's the same character as 'sand.'"
"May I meet her? I'd like to thank her for her thoughtful menu."
"Your compliments are the highest honor for our hotel. Unfortunately, Manager Sha has already left for the day."
"Really? That's a shame," Nathan said, neither disappointed nor insistent.
Dressed in a tailored suit with her hair pinned up, Sophie embodied the look of a confident urban professional.
Since morning, she had been directing the setup of the conference room for the Tino Winery signing event. Not only had it attracted financial journalists, but gossip magazines eager to feature Nathan had also expressed interest.
The media spotlight promised to be unprecedented.
"He really is a living advertisement," Roman remarked, noticing her pale face and clenched hands as he approached.
"Thanks," Sophie said, leaning much of her weight against him. "My legs are about to give out." She'd been too busy arranging the venue to feel nervous, but as the media settled into place, her anxiety began to take hold.
Roman wrapped an arm around her waist, offering the support she needed.
"You've done well," he encouraged her.
Sophie sniffled. "Am I terrible for this? You're my best friend, yet I'm using you..." There was no doubt that Roman was her most reliable support, but he wasn't the one she wanted. She couldn't give him her heart, yet she clung to his feelings.
Roman tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. "If we're friends, why call it 'using'?" To him, giving was a way of gaining in return. He wouldn't give up hope—not until there was no hope left.
Sophie nodded, then nervously asked, "Do I look..."
Roman said, "You look perfect—sharp and capable. Don't worry!"
Sophie had been staying at the Grand Empire Hotel for a week, and Nathan and his team had arrived two days prior. It wasn't until today's press conference that she finally had the chance to observe him from the crowd. Her stomach churned with nerves, tightening in spasms.
The venue erupted into thunderous applause as reporters rushed forward for better positions.
"Let's welcome Mr. Nathan Tino, president of Tino Winery, which holds over 70% of the French wine market!" the host announced energetically.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Nathan, and I'm delighted to set foot on the beautiful land of Formosa," Nathan began in flawless English.
A murmur of astonishment spread through the room.
"Tino, your English is impeccable," one reporter voiced what everyone was thinking.
"My mother is Chinese," Nathan replied with a smile. "I learned a lot from her."
"Is your Chinese heritage the reason you chose TWAN as your Asian distribution hub?"
"Yes, it is."
"Beyond that, what other impressions do you have of TWAN?" a female reporter asked coyly.
"TWAN women are beautiful," he replied smoothly, sparking laughter and instantly bridging the gap with his audience.
Standing at the door, Sophie coldly watched him exude charm. A complex mix of emotions churned within her—bitterness, jealousy, and something she didn't want to name.
She had known about his way with women from the media, but seeing it in person hit differently. She thought she could handle it, thought she'd moved on. But the moment he appeared, she realized her feelings had only been dormant—they hadn't disappeared.
"Tino, what incentives do you hope the TWAN government will provide?"
Tino Winery's exclusive distribution rights in TWAN promised to bring massive economic benefits and boost the country's prestige.
"I don't have a concrete plan yet. What do you think?" Nathan deflected, cleverly letting public opinion pressure the authorities.
"There are rumors you're considering a partnership with Jark Winery. If the resources merge, your market share could surpass 90%. What's your take on this?"
"I don't rule out any possibilities," Nathan said diplomatically.
"Would you consider marriage as a strategy to secure the partnership?" the reporter pressed.
"All options are on the table," Nathan replied ambiguously.
Sophie held her breath, waiting for his answer. It had been three years, and he still hadn't married Vivienne. What was he thinking? She mocked herself for her naivety—their marriage was inevitable. What was she hoping for?
Roman, standing beside her, finally confirmed his suspicions. "He's Vivienne's father, isn't he?"
Sophie's face turned pale as she murmured, "Is it that obvious?"
Roman's heart ached for her. "Anyone who's met Vivienne wouldn't doubt the resemblance."
She shivered at his words.
Roman placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Relax. You live in Guguan, a small place where people don't care about wine news. No one will connect the dots."
She hoped so. But the mounting stress was pushing her to her limits.
"Can you help me to the lounge? I feel like I'm about to faint."
Alarmed, Roman scooped her up in his arms. His actions caused a small commotion among the staff.
"What happened to Manager GAGA? Is she okay?"
The murmurs reached Nathan's ears. He glanced toward the source of the noise and instantly narrowed his eyes.
There she was—his little maid!
He thought he'd just missed her a little. But now, seeing her, he realized her image had been etched deeply into his heart. Otherwise, how could he recognize her at a glance?
She had changed. Gone was the innocent, naive maid; she now exuded the confidence of a career woman.
Where was the carefree girl from three years ago? What had she done to herself?
Even so, she still commanded his attention, drawing him in completely.
He had thought about seeing her again, but he wasn't prepared to witness her in another man's arms.
Nathan excused himself politely but firmly. "I have an urgent matter to attend to. If you have more questions, please direct them to my marketing director, Zola Carl. Thank you for understanding."
No one could refuse such gracious courtesy.
Zola took over seamlessly, but Nathan's unusual behavior didn't escape his notice. Was she the reason for his insistence on coming to TWAN? This is going to be interesting.
In the staff lounge, Roman set Sophie down on a chair.
"Are you okay?" he asked with concern.
Sophie forced a weak smile. "I'm fine. I guess I'm not as brave as I thought."
"You've done well," Roman reassured her.
Nathan's voice came from the door. "It's been a while, my little maid."
Sophie's head shot up in shock. He had recognized her. He had come to find her.
In the three years since they'd last seen each other, she had blossomed into an even more stunning woman. Now she had a beguiling allure, replacing the innocent charm of her younger self.
Roman glanced between them, sensing the intensity of their unspoken connection. It was almost suffocating. He wanted to shatter this moment.
He stepped forward, blocking Nathan. "This is the staff lounge. Did you come to the wrong place, Mr. Tino?"
Nathan's sharp gaze swept over Roman. Who was this man who dared to act like her protector?
"I might ask you the same question," Nathan replied coldly.
Roman stood his ground, meeting Nathan's gaze without flinching.
The tension between the two men made Sophie anxious. She tugged at Roman's sleeve, silently begging him to back down.
Roman gently patted her hand, signaling her not to worry.
Their intimate interaction further inflamed Nathan's inexplicable jealousy. With clenched teeth, he said, "I need to talk to you." If they weren't in TWAN, he might have punched that arrogant expression off Roman's face.
Roman lifted his chin defiantly. "There's nothing for you two to discuss!" Sophie tugged at his sleeve. As Roman looked down, her pleading expression softened his resolve. He sighed. "You know you're…"
Sophie's eyes were filled with silent imploration, begging him to leave.
Roman sighed deeply. "Why put yourself through this?"
Sophie avoided his reproach. "I know what I'm doing."
Nathan watched them coldly.
Roman stepped toward the door, concern evident in his every move. "I'll be waiting outside."
Thank you, Sophie mouthed silently.
Roman waved his hand dismissively, disappointed. What he wanted wasn't her thanks. He closed the door behind him, leaving the two alone.
Now, only Sophie and Nathan remained in the room. She glanced at his stoic expression nervously. "Hello." The many questions swirling in her mind condensed into this safest of greetings.
Hello? After three years apart, was that all she could muster?
For three years, her shadow had haunted his thoughts, unbidden and unforgettable. Their brief time together had left a mark he couldn't erase. What spell had she cast on him to linger so deeply in his mind?
Once, he had let her slip away. This time, fate had brought them together again, and he would not let her go so easily!
"Why did you leave without a word?" Nathan asked, finally voicing the question that had gnawed at him for three years.
Sophie averted her gaze uncomfortably, recalling that night. "I was only staying at the estate temporarily…"
From his reaction, it seemed he didn't know that she had been with him that night. A complicated mix of relief and disappointment churned within her.
She steadied her emotions and continued. "Roman happened to be free that day, so I asked him to take me back to TWAN."
"So urgently? Without leaving a single word, like you were running away." Nathan's tone was laced with bitterness. So, it seemed, he was the only one who couldn't move on.
Damn it, he thought. He never struggled to let go of anyone—until her.
"I'm sorry…"
Sorry wasn't what Nathan wanted to hear. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I want the real reason."
Sophie's lips moved, but no words came out. What could she say? That she had given herself to him? That she had fallen in love and fled because of it?
She couldn't say anything.
Nathan's piercing stare fell to her soft, red lips, and without a second thought, he claimed them.
Her taste—sweet and familiar. As though he had savored it before.
What he had intended as a fleeting kiss ignited a blaze of desire. His lips and tongue explored hers with abandon, stirring memories deep within her. Sophie clung to his neck, surrendering herself hopelessly to the pull of her feelings.
She was like a moth to the flame—knowing it would burn, yet still drawn inexorably to its light.
He released her reluctantly, tracing her lips with his thumb as her body trembled. His voice was low and filled with certainty. "We belong together."
"No!" Sophie snapped back to reality, pushing against his chest as though to ward off his charm.
"No?" Nathan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Explain yourself."
"This is wrong!" Sophie withdrew her hands, as though touching him burned her, and hugged herself tightly. "We can't be together."
"Why not? I've never let nationality or profession get in the way of choosing a lover," he said, thinking she might be concerned about such trivialities.
Sophie froze, stunned by his words. Yes, she had been overthinking. How could she… How could she have imagined he might propose?
The sharp pang of realization struck her. He had no intention of seeing her as anything more than a passing fancy. She swallowed the pain and forced a smile. "Thank you for your consideration, but being a mistress isn't exactly a noble career in TWAN."
She deliberately avoided addressing him as Viscount, unwilling to diminish herself any further. In his eyes, she was nothing, and the only thing she had left was her dignity.
Nathan despised her cold, transactional tone when referring to being his mistress. He had never encountered such resistance before—he always got what he wanted.
"Name your price," he said bluntly. This was unfamiliar territory for him; no woman had ever refused his offer before, let alone brought money into the conversation.
Sophie straightened her back. "I'm not for sale!" His words cut deeper than he could imagine, her heart already battered beyond repair.
Nathan sighed. "If that offended you, I apologize. You know I don't have much experience with this sort of thing." Women usually fell easily for his charm; he'd never faced such stubborn resistance before.
She had changed—smarter, more independent. And yet, this transformation only intrigued him more.
"I'm willing to pay any price if you agree to be my mistress," he conceded. Maybe, with time, he'd figure out why she haunted him and finally move on.
"I'll never be anyone's mistress. In fact, I'm getting married," Sophie said firmly, hoping to put an end to his pursuit.
The thought of her in another man's arms enraged Nathan. He stepped forward and pulled her tightly into his embrace, their bodies pressing together completely.
His leg slid between hers, forcing her to feel his heat. One arm pinned her against him while his other hand traced the curve of her thigh, eliciting a gasp from her.
"Who?" His voice was a low growl. "That guy just now? Can he stir your passion like this?" He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.