Chapter 2
I wasn't discouraged.
Getting close to such a man was always going to be a marathon, not a sprint.
That evening, Dylan was working late at the office, as usual.
I waited for just the right moment, then knocked on his door, carrying a homemade dinner packed with care.
"Mr. Grant, you haven't eaten yet, so I brought you something," I said, giving him my best gentle, wifely smile.
I cooked it myself, a perfect mix of meat and veggies for a nutritious, balanced meal.
But the real secret was in the soup, I'd slipped in a little something that Andrew was all too happy to "sponsor."
Nothing wild, just a tiny boost to help him unwind, loosen up, and feel a bit warmer inside.
Dylan glanced up at me, genuinely surprised to see me standing there with dinner.
When he worked overtime, he'd just grab some takeout or skip dinner entirely.
As his secretary, I'd always just remind him to eat, never once had I actually cooked for him myself, until tonight.
"Leave it here."
He barely glanced up, his voice indifferent as he returned to his files.
I carefully arranged the dishes, placing the soup closest to his hand. "Mr. Grant, please have the soup while it's hot—it's good for your stomach," I said gently.
He stayed silent, but I took it as quiet approval.
I stepped aside, pretending to sort through some documents, all the while watching him from the corner of my eye.
After finishing up his paperwork, he finally picked up his fork.
He ate in a refined, unhurried way, every movement showing his natural sense of class.
My heart was in my throat as I watched him lift the bowl of soup.
He took a sniff, and then... he put it down.
He didn't even take a single sip!
"Mr. Grant, the soup..." Sophie called out, refusing to let it go so easily.
"The flavor's too strong," Dylan replied.
He grabbed another file, treating that bowl of soup as if it were nothing but plain water.
I stared at the soup, then at his totally blank face, and honestly, my brain was screaming in frustration.
Didn't Andrew say he liked his soup with rich, bold flavors?
Andrew was so-called insider info? Useless!
I forced an awkward smile as I cleaned up the mess. "Guess I didn't think it through. Next time, I'll make something milder for you."
He just grunted, not even bothering to look up.
I walked out of the office with the barely-touched lunchbox, feeling totally defeated. I texted Andrew: [Andrew, your intel was way off! He said the soup was too strong!]
Andrew shot back instantly: [Impossible! He's always loved bold flavors! ...Wait, has he gone soft because he's seeing someone? Sophie, you'd better give it your all!]
I stared at my phone screen, so frustrated I could cry.
Andrew, your info was ancient history!