At Austin’s words, Miguel let out a faint cough, unable to contain himself.

The sound jogged something in Brinley’s memory. She suddenly recalled Miguel’s exaggerated anxiousness as he’d walked her all the way up.

Were these two messing with her?

Brinley’s expression darkened as she slowly withdrew her hand, then gave Austin a faint smile. “Oh? Your pain vanishes when I appear? Seems like your issue isn’t your stomach—it’s a severe case of lovesickness.”

Austin opened his mouth to explain, but Brinley rose, turning to Miguel with a steady tone. “Miguel, he seems perfectly fine, so I’ll take my leave.”

“Hold on, Mrs. Moore!” Miguel stepped forward to stop her, but a single glance from Brinley froze him in place.

Without looking back at Austin—who had bolted upright on the couch—she strode toward the door.

As her fingers grazed the handle, Austin’s urgent voice called out, “Brinley, wait!”

She paused, still facing away.

Austin sprang from the couch, his earlier weakness gone. In a few quick steps, he closed the distance and wrapped his arms around her from behind. His voice softened into a plea. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I just saw how worn out you’ve been lately and wanted you to take a break. And I miss you.”

Brinley squirmed but couldn’t break free, letting out an exasperated laugh. “Austin, you faked a health scare just to see me? Do you realize how much I worried?”

“I know I screwed up,” Austin murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I promise it won’t happen again. Please don’t be mad, and stop overworking yourself, okay? Those shadows under your eyes—if you keep going like this, you’ll collapse.” He paused, his tone tinged with hurt. “I just care about you.”

Brinley felt her frustration falter as his words punctured her anger. She could hear the genuine concern in his voice, the sincerity beneath it.

Truthfully, she had been running on fumes, barely pausing to breathe.

Without his stunt, she might have kept pushing herself to the brink.

Sighing, she turned to face him, her voice firm. “This better be the last time. Do it again, and I won’t forgive you.”

Seeing her soften, Austin adopted a meek look, nodding eagerly. “There won’t be a next time, I promise. But can you ease up on work too? Tasks never end, but your health matters.”

Brinley caught the worry in his gaze, warmth blooming in her chest. She reached up and smoothed the crease between his brows. “Fine. I’ll start resting properly tomorrow. But no more deceiving me about your health.”

“As you wish, sweetheart,” Austin chuckled, leaning in to kiss her cheek lightly.

“You’re really something,” Brinley said, giving his arm a playful pinch—firm enough to make Austin fake a wince as he caught her hand.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I’ll have Miguel whip up something.”

Only then did Brinley notice the emptiness in her stomach. Since noon, she’d only managed half a slice of bread during a break between meetings.

“A little,” she admitted. “Something light is fine. Nothing fancy.”

Austin didn’t waste a second before giving Miguel—who had been trying to stay unnoticed in the corner—a direct order. “Get in touch with the manager of Crimson Spoon and have them send over a spread prepared with their finest touch.”

Miguel gave a quick nod and slipped out of the office without hesitation.

The corner of Brinley’s mouth twitched. “Austin, I only asked for something simple…”

“Relax. It won’t take long,” Austin assured her, giving her hand a light squeeze. “Their service is fast, and the food is excellent.”

Half-convinced, Brinley let the subject drop and shifted her focus to the office.

The floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto a sweeping view of Bleron’s glittering night skyline.

A polished desk sat at the center of the room. The leather sofa gleamed with quality, and in the corner, a glass-fronted cabinet displayed an impressive wine collection. Nearby, a bookshelf stood heavy with volumes of every kind.

“Your office looks quite impressive,” she said offhandedly.

“You’re welcome here whenever you like,” Austin replied, sliding his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her head. “I even had Miguel set up a lounge for you. Anytime you feel worn out, you can come here to rest.”

Brinley opened her mouth to tell him it was unnecessary, but a knock at the door cut her off.

Miguel reappeared, leading a small group of chefs in crisp white coats, each balancing an ornate food box.

What happened next left Brinley completely taken aback.

The chefs moved with swift precision, spreading a tablecloth across the long office table and unloading one dish after another.

Within minutes, the spread stretched from one end of the table to the other, leaving barely an inch of space. They had even prepared desserts.

Brinley was struck speechless, finally managing, “Austin, I said something simple…”

Her hand trembled slightly as she gestured at the feast.

Calmly, Austin stepped up beside her, plucked a tender cut of meat, and held it to her lips with a smile. “Go on, try it. Their chefs really are in a class of their own.”

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