It was evident that the hotel spared no effort in making him feel at home.
Nathan deeply appreciated the hotel's attentiveness. Everything, from the bedding to the decor, was tailored to his tastes. Stepping into the presidential suite, he even felt a fleeting sense of being back at his estate.
Of course, there were no opulent crystal fixtures like those at the manor. Frowning slightly, he noticed the curtains were too thin—he hated being woken up by sunlight.
"Is there something Mr. Tino is dissatisfied with?" asked Manager Xu from the housekeeping department.
"The curtains. I prefer ones that block out the sunlight," Nathan replied.
"Oh!" Manager pulled up a corner of the curtain, demonstrating its thickness by blocking a bedside touch lamp and then turning it on. "You see, although the material is light, it's completely opaque."
"Excellent. You're very thoughtful," Nathan said, allowing a rare smile.
She nearly fainted! How could someone be so stunningly handsome it left her breathless? His grace, his striking features... Oh, heavens!
Manager fought to maintain her composure, determined not to disgrace the hotel's reputation with drool. "Please rest for now. Breakfast will be delivered shortly. Should you need anything, do let me know."
"Thank you."
Even breakfast surprised Nathan—it was French bread with foie gras, Toulouse foie gras, his favorite. Accompanied by unsweetened French coffee. Hmm, the hotel certainly paid close attention to his preferences.
By lunchtime, featuring beef tartare paired with cappuccino, and dinner, a green asparagus dish with cheese and truffle shavings, followed by a 1985 vintage Tino red wine, Nathan couldn't help but ask:
"Who designed the menu?"
"It was prepared by our public relations manager. Does it suit your tastes?" Manager Xu answered respectfully.
"It seems they put in considerable effort," Nathan said, impressed. He naturally switched to English when abroad, unlike the typical Frenchman who prided themselves on their native tongue.
"She did, actually. Manager is a woman," Manager Xu clarified.
"Sha?" Intrigued by the surname, Nathan asked in English, "Is it 'Sha' as in 'sand'?"
Manager Xu was taken aback. "Your English is excellent!"
"My mother was Chinese," Nathan said nonchalantly. "You haven't answered my question."
"Can I meet her to thank her personally for designing such a well-tailored menu?"
"Your praise is the highest honor for our hotel. Unfortunately, Manager Sha has already left for the day."
"I see. That's a pity," Nathan remarked indifferently.
Dressed in a fitted suit with her hair neatly tied up, Sophie exuded the poise of a confident, modern woman.
From early morning, she had been orchestrating the arrangements for the conference room. The signing of Tino Winery's contract attracted not only financial journalists but also numerous tabloids intrigued by Nathan himself.
The scene was expected to draw unprecedented media attention.
"He's quite the living advertisement," Roman commented, noticing her pale face and clenched fists as he approached her.
"Thanks," Sophie replied, leaning most of her weight against him. "My legs are about to give out." She had been so focused on organizing the venue that she forgot to feel nervous. Now that the media was settling into position, the anxiety hit her full force.
Roman wrapped an arm around her waist, providing the support she needed.
"You're doing great," he encouraged her.
Sophie sniffled, "Am I terrible for this? You're my best friend, and I'm using you..." There was no denying that Roman was her most reliable support, but he wasn't what she wanted. She couldn't give him her heart and yet still clung to his feelings.
Roman brushed aside a stray lock of her hair and smiled. "What's this talk of 'using'? We're friends, aren't we?" To give was, in its own way, to receive. He wasn't about to abandon hope until there was truly none left.
Sophie nodded and nervously asked, "Do I look...?"
"You look perfect—smart and capable. Don't worry," Roman reassured her.
Sophie had been at the hotel for a week, while Nathan and his entourage had checked in two days ago. Only now, at the press conference, did she finally have the chance to see him from a distance. Her stomach churned with nervous spasms.
A thunderous round of applause erupted as the emcee announced, "Let's welcome the president of Tino Winery, which commands over 70% of the global wine market—Mr. Nathan Tino!"
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Nathan, and I'm delighted to step foot on this beautiful land of Formosa," Nathan greeted in flawless English.
The room buzzed with surprise. "Mr. Tino, how is your Chinese so fluent?" one reporter asked, voicing the collective curiosity.
"My mother was Chinese," Nathan replied with a smile. "I've learned much from her."
"Is your mixed heritage the reason you chose Taiwan as the base for your Asian operations?"
"Yes."
"Aside from that, do you have any other impressions of Taiwan?" a female reporter asked, batting her eyelashes.
"Yes, Taiwanese women are very beautiful," he quipped, eliciting laughter and instantly closing the gap with his audience.
Standing by the door, Sophie coldly observed him charming the crowd. Her emotions were a tumultuous mix of bitterness and envy.
She had always known Nathan had a way with women, but seeing it in person was different from reading about it in the tabloids. She thought she could handle it, thought she had let go. But the moment he appeared, she realized her heart had only been dormant, never dead.
"Mr. Tino, what kind of incentives would you like from the Taiwanese government?" one reporter asked.
"I haven't given that much thought. What do you think?" Nathan deftly turned the question around, subtly enlisting public opinion to his advantage.
"Rumor has it you're considering a partnership with Jark Winery. If consolidated, the two would control over 90% of the wine market. What are your thoughts on that?"
"I'm not ruling anything out," Nathan replied ambiguously.
"Would you consider using marriage to solidify the partnership between the two wineries?" another reporter pressed.
"All possibilities are on the table," Nathan said, remaining noncommittal.
Sophie held her breath as she waited for his response. It had been three years, and he still hadn't married Vivienne. What was he thinking? She laughed at her own foolishness. Their marriage was inevitable—what was she hoping for?
Watching Nathan, Roman's doubts were confirmed. He asked, "Is he Vivienne's father?"
Sophie's face grew paler as she murmured, "Is it that obvious?"
Her vulnerability tugged at Roman's heart. "Anyone who's met Vivienne wouldn't doubt their connection," he said gently, trying to console her. "Don't worry. Guguan is a small place. People there don't care about red wine, and no one will notice this kind of news."
Sophie felt like she was on the verge of collapse, her stress reaching its breaking point.
"Help me to the break room, will you? I feel like I'm about to faint."
Roman, alarmed, swept her up in his arms. The sudden action drew the attention of the event staff.
"Manager Sha, are you alright? Are you feeling unwell?"
Manager Sha? The small commotion by the door caught Nathan's attention. He followed the voices, and his eyes narrowed instantly.
He. Saw. The. Little. Maid.
He had thought that he simply missed her a little. But now he realized her figure had been etched deeply into his mind. Otherwise, how could he recognize her at a glance?
She had changed. She now looked like a polished corporate executive, a product of a cutthroat society. But where was the innocent, unworldly maid from three years ago? What had she done to herself?
Even though she was no longer the simple girl he remembered, she still commanded all his attention.
It was only now that he realized he had been holding onto her memory—her every smile, every silly expression. It was all vividly clear. He cared far more about her sudden disappearance than he had ever let himself believe.
The sight of her nestled in another man's arms struck his chest like a heavy blow. Without betraying his thoughts, he watched as they disappeared from view. With practiced politeness, he announced, "I have urgent business to attend to. If anyone has further questions, please direct them to my marketing director, Mr. Zola Carl. Please excuse me."
Who could refuse such a courteous request?
Zola quickly took over, but Nathan's unusual demeanor did not escape his notice. "So she's the reason the boss insisted on coming to Taiwan? Looks like things are about to get interesting."
Roman placed Sophie gently on a chair in the employee lounge.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Sophie gave a weak smile. "I'm fine. Maybe I'm not as brave as I thought."
"You've done great," he reassured her.
Nathan's voice sounded from the doorway. "It's been a while, my little maid."
Sophie looked up in shock. He recognized her—and had come to find her?!
She had blossomed into an even more beautiful woman in the three years since they'd last met. There was now a captivating allure about her, a charm that made it impossible to look away—so different from the naive young girl he had once known.
Roman glanced back and forth between them, sensing the tension that filled the room. The intensity between them was palpable, almost suffocating. He felt compelled to break the spell.
Blocking Nathan's path, Roman declared, "This is the hotel's employee lounge. Are you sure you're in the right place, Mr. Tino?"
Who was this man with his gentlemanly demeanor? Nathan disliked the arrogance of someone acting as her protector.
Nathan fixed a sharp gaze on Roman. Roman, unperturbed, met his eyes without flinching.
Sensing the brewing confrontation, Sophie stood up anxiously. "Uh, is there something Mr. Tino needs?"
Nathan narrowed his brown eyes. He hated seeing them side by side. He had hoped to see her again one day, but he wasn't prepared for the sight of her so close to another man.
He had no shortage of female companions and never cared about their shifting affections. But this unfamiliar feeling—this irritation—was entirely new to him. Even more absurd was that this little maid meant nothing to him. Or so he told himself.
"Why are you here?" Nathan demanded.
Roman replied proudly, "This hotel belongs to me, and she's the public relations manager. We belong here. But you, Mr. Tino—insisting on squeezing into this space—isn't that a bit out of place?" He deliberately provoked him.
Nathan had never been spoken to like this before. In his world, he was king, and no one dared mock him.
Sophie noticed the vein pulsing at Nathan's temple. Though she had never seen him angry before, she knew it wasn't wise to provoke a lion. She tugged at Roman's sleeve, signaling him to back off.
Roman patted her hand reassuringly, silently refusing to back down.
Their interaction made Nathan's anger flare. Driven by emotions he couldn't quite name, he clenched his teeth and said, "I need to speak with you."
"If it's about her, there's nothing to discuss," Roman said, lifting his chin defiantly. Sophie tugged on his sleeve again, this time with pleading eyes.
He sighed. "You're being too stubborn..."
Sophie's eyes silently begged him to leave.
Roman sighed heavily. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"
Sophie avoided his reproachful gaze. "I know what I'm doing."
Nathan's cold eyes followed Roman as he reluctantly exited.
"I'll be waiting outside," Roman said, his concern evident.
"Thank you," Sophie mouthed silently.
But what Roman wanted wasn't thanks. With a resigned gesture, he closed the door, leaving the two alone.
In the quiet of the room, Sophie stole a glance at Nathan's unreadable expression. "Hello." She had so many questions, yet all she managed was this safe, neutral greeting.
Hello? After three years, was that all she had to say?
For three years, her image had haunted him, surfacing in his thoughts unbidden. In just a few days, she had left a mark on him that refused to fade. What kind of spell had she cast on him?
Once, he had let her slip away. But now, fate had brought her back. This time, he wouldn't let her leave so easily.
"Why did you leave without a word?" he asked, voicing the question that had plagued him for three years.
Recalling that night, Sophie awkwardly avoided his gaze. "I was only staying at the estate temporarily…"
Judging by his reaction, he didn't know it was her that night. The realization left her feeling conflicted—relieved yet inexplicably sad.
Gathering her composure, she added, "Roman happened to be free that day, so I asked him to take me back to Taiwan."
"So urgently that you couldn't leave a single word? Like you were running away," Nathan said mockingly. So, he was the only one who couldn't move on.
Damn it. He never cared enough to dwell on anything—or anyone.
"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 opened her mouth, but no words came out. How could she explain? Should she tell him she had given herself to him? Or that she had fallen in love with him, which made leaving him the only choice?
She couldn't say a word.
Nathan's eyes darkened as he stared at her lips, and before he could think, he kissed her.
She tasted just as sweet as he remembered.
What had begun as a light touch turned into a deep, passionate kiss. His lips and tongue explored, rekindling memories she had tried to bury. Sophie clung to his neck, surrendering to the moment, even as her mind screamed at her to stop.
She was a foolish moth, drawn to the flame despite knowing it would consume her—burning to ashes in the fire of his love.