After walking for a bit, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Was it the undeniable charm of this man, or was she just feeling a little lonely?
Sophie Walsh shook her head. To hell with pride and playing hard to get-this might be her last chance to spend time with him! If she let this moment slip, who knew when or if they’d meet again?
Finally, after some inner pep talk, she swallowed her embarrassment and sidled up to Kayden Scott.
Tentatively, she reached out and tugged at the corner of his shirt, creating the illusion they were walking hand-in-hand.
Seeing that Kayden didn’t shake her off, her confidence grew. She boldly slid her hand to grasp his arm, then looped it snugly through his. Kayden still didn’t resist.
He didn’t see the harm in it and figured, why make a fuss?
And so, the two of them strolled down the street, arm in arm, looking every bit like a couple.
After a while, Sophie couldn’t hold back her curiosity anymore. “One last question,” she said, her voice laced with curiosity.
Kayden frowned slightly, not responding but clearly giving her permission to ask.
“Are you and Sariah Faulkner really… you know, that close? Everyone’s saying she’s keeping you as her boy toy.” Sophie’s big eyes sparkled with gossip, her tone teasing but probing.
Kayden abruptly stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
Caught off guard, Sophie stopped too, her nearly 5’7″ frame barely shorter than his. Her wide eyes met his, and despite the playful curiosity, there was a flicker of nervousness in her gaze.
“What do you think?” Kayden’s voice was calm, direct, and sharp as a blade.
Sophie gasped, her eyes darting away before she stammered, “You don’t seem like it. You’re way too skinny! If someone were to keep a guy, wouldn’t they go for someone more, you know, buff? You’re… uh… not exactly the type.”
Kayden was speechless.
He let out a small sigh, resigned to her frankness.
The pair eventually arrived at a swanky steakhouse, a popular joint with a reputation for its sleek decor and upscale vibes. As they stepped inside, the ambiance hit them immediately-a place where each detail screamed “high-end.”
Even though it wasn’t peak dining time, the restaurant was packed with young patrons, adding to the lively, upscale atmosphere.
Kayden wasn’t particularly into Western food, but he had agreed to this outing, so he kept his opinions to himself.
Sophie, on the other hand, had chosen this restaurant deliberately. She knew the long wait times would give her more opportunities to spend time with him and work up the courage to say what was on her mind.
After ordering two steaks, they sat at their table waiting.
Kayden’s mild impatience didn’t escape Sophie. She blinked her big eyes innocently and explained, “I know this place isn’t as fancy as a revolving restaurant, but their steaks are amazing! The wait might be a bit longer, but it’s worth it. You saw how busy it is-there’s a reason for that.”
Kayden nodded nonchalantly, not bothering to argue. Sophie, however, kept chatting, trying to engage him, though his mind was elsewhere-his thoughts locked on the Hellblazer organization.
The one-sided conversation soon wore Sophie out, and she began fiddling with her phone out of boredom.
As the wait dragged on, Sophie grew impatient and called over a waiter to check on their order. The server responded politely, saying their food would be out soon. At that moment, a foreign man and a Seclela woman entered the restaurant. The woman was tall, with fair skin, striking features, and a figure accentuated by her low-cut dress and cascading curls.
The foreign man, tall with blond hair and amber eyes, dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes, was clearly well-off.
After taking a seat, a waitress approached with a menu in hand. She handed it to the man, who promptly ordered two steaks. Then, he passed the menu back to her without a second thought.
Within five minutes, their steaks were served. “Mr. Stewart, please enjoy,” the waitress said.
Sophie froze at the sight, her expression darkening. She slammed her hand on the table and called out, “Hey! What’s the meaning of this?”
The waitress, startled, turned to Sophie and asked cautiously, “Is there a problem, miss?”
“What’s the problem? We’ve been waiting forever, and they get their food in five minutes? Care to explain?” Sophie’s voice was sharp with frustration.
The waitress frowned slightly but kept her tone even. “Miss, your order is in the queue. There are a few tables ahead of you. Please be patient-it’ll be ready soon.”
“That’s not what I’m asking!” Sophie shot back, her voice rising. She pointed at the other table. “Why do they get served immediately while the rest of us have to wait?”
The waitress hesitated, her expression betraying a moment of discomfort. Then, with a smug air, she gestured toward a sign on the wall.
Sophie followed her gaze to the bold text that read: “Priority Service for Western Guests.”
“Miss, did you get a good look?” the waitress asked haughtily, her tone carrying a hint of provocation.
There was an air of superiority about her, as if just working in a Western-style restaurant somehow elevated her above others from her own country. Even though her paycheck was barely 3, 000 dollars, she still acted like she was a cut above the rest.
“What’s this supposed to mean?” Sophie’s voice trembled with anger. “Why are you prioritizing foreigners over everyone else? Are you seriously belittling your own countrymen to cater to them? It’s disgusting!”
People with a strong sense of justice wouldn’t be able to tolerate such behavior. Unlike some other college students who idolized everything foreign, Sophie Walsh, as a university student, was different. She clearly understood the strength and pride of Seclela.
Her outburst drew the attention of other diners, though most simply watched with mild curiosity, unwilling to get involved.
“Miss, there’s no need to make a scene. This is just the restaurant’s policy-our boss’s rules. If you have an issue, take it up with him,” the waitress said, her tone condescending, as if Sophie’s frustration was unwarranted.
At that moment, the restaurant manager-a tall, striking woman in a pencil skirt and black stockings-walked over, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. She exuded an air of authority as she glanced at Sophie.
“What’s going on here?” the manager asked curtly, her tone tinged with annoyance.
The waitress quickly explained, “This young lady has a problem with our policy.”
Before the manager could respond, Sophie interjected, her voice filled with righteous indignation. “Your policy is disgusting! Prioritizing foreigners over locals? Are you not ashamed? It’s 2024-how can you still have rules like this? It’s a slap in the face to every Seclela citizen!”