CHAPTER 54: CHAPTER 54- LOOK YOUNGER

Catherine realized they were talking about Bert. After all, looking around the store, he was the only man who matched their description. A little further away, two men in their forties were browsing clothes, but their figures had clearly gone soft. They weren’t severely overweight, but at least slightly plump—their shirts and trousers revealing a protruding belly, betraying their age.

Catherine suddenly wondered how old Bert actually was. She had guessed before that he was at least thirty-two, yet compared to those two men not far away, he looked like he belonged to a completely different age group. His waist and abdomen had not a trace of excess fat, perfectly lean and proportioned—a physique that made women involuntarily admire.

Naturally, the kind of men who shop at a store like this are wealthy. One couldn’t deny that a person’s outward appearance contributed to their aura, while their demeanor and mannerisms elevated it further.

Even if age and wealth were similar, standing side by side, the difference between Bert and those men was obvious.

As Catherine’s mind wandered through these thoughts, she heard the faint sighs of admiration from the clerks again. She turned her head and saw Bert stepping out in the white shirt.

Catherine didn’t know how to describe the man in front of her. She felt as if her breath had suddenly caught, and her eyes couldn’t meet his gaze.

That simple white shirt alone made him extraordinary.

The clerks, trained from years of selling men’s clothing, had chosen the perfect size. The shirt hugged his flawless figure just right. His broad, firm shoulders filled out the thin fabric, as if he could hold up the sky for women, giving a warm, solid sense of security.

Most people relied on clothes to enhance their aura; with him, it was the other way around. He gave the simple shirt a mature, composed charisma.

A low, velvety voice sounded beside her:

"Do you like it?"

Catherine’s face flushed immediately. Do you like it? Shouldn’t he be asking if he looked good?

She had bought the shirt for him. It was supposed to be him who should be satisfied. His question, however, injected a subtle, inexplicable intimacy between them.

Catherine had no way to answer. Could she say it looked good? To compliment a man so plainly—someone she wasn’t involved with, someone about to become her boss—felt improper.

Yet she couldn’t say it looked bad either. First, because it genuinely looked good, and second, saying otherwise would undermine her own taste.

At that moment, a clerk stepped in to break the awkwardness.

"Oh my, sir, this white shirt fits you perfectly. It makes you look not only handsome but also shows off your excellent physique."

Faced with the clerk’s enthusiastic praise, Bert shot a cold glance their way. The soft, attentive expression he had reserved for Catherine disappeared instantly, leaving the clerk flustered. Of course, Bert wasn’t the kind to tolerate irrelevant flattery when it didn’t concern him.

Sensing the tension, Catherine quickly stepped in to ease the moment. Blushing slightly, she looked at Bert and softly said,

"You look really good in this one. You should try on the other shirt now."

Then she gently guided him back toward the fitting room.

It was her soft little hand that gently pressed against his back. Though it was just a fleeting touch before she quickly pulled away, Bert felt the warmth of her palm. That brief contact seemed to settle right onto his heart, filling his chest with an indescribable tenderness.

With that, he let the tension melt away and stepped back into the fitting room.

Catherine returned to her previous spot. One of the clerks pursed her lips and muttered,

"Your boyfriend really has a temper..."

By now, the atmosphere had shifted to this point, and Catherine knew there was no way she could explain to the clerk that she and Bert weren’t a couple. Even if she tried, the clerk probably wouldn’t believe her.

Though the clerk hadn’t said it outright, Catherine could tell what she meant. One moment, Bert had asked her so gently if she was satisfied; the next, he gave the clerk a cold, sharp look. His expression changed so quickly—so capriciously—that it was no wonder the clerk complained.

Yet Catherine felt that, up until now, Bert had never truly been harsh with her. Even if he had been cutting with Lucca or Channing before, it was different with her.

So she simply smiled faintly at the clerk’s muttered complaint. Everyone has their own measure for judging right and wrong.

Perhaps in that clerk’s eyes, Bert was excessively stern and unapproachable, but to Catherine, he was a mature and warm presence.

The light blue shirt looked sharp and did give him a younger appearance.

When Bert stepped out in the light blue shirt, he presented yet another image to Catherine.

Refined and strong, gentle and elegant.

Those were the only words she could think of to describe him.

Oh, and one more: youthful.

To prevent the awkward interruptions from the clerks as before, Catherine stepped forward this time with a smile.

"This one looks good too—makes you look younger."

Catherine had always been like this—wanting to get along with everyone, unwilling to let even the smallest friction arise. Yet reality often proved harsh. People who should have been close to her, like Channing and Lucca, had made her interactions with them consistently difficult.

Her comment about "looking younger" made Bert slightly frown. He glanced at himself in the mirror, noticing that the light blue shirt did give him a fresher look, and then raised an eyebrow at her.

"So... you think I look old? That’s why you picked this color, to make me look younger?"

Catherine quickly shook her head, denying it.

"No, no, it’s not that. I just thought... it seems like you haven’t worn this color before, so I picked this one..."

As she spoke, she turned her eyes away from his intense gaze, unconsciously brushing her fingers along the edge of the nearby display cabinet. The clerk who had been standing nearby to give advice, having learned from the white shirt incident and seeing the intensity of Bert’s stare at Catherine, quietly turned and left. Let them choose for themselves.

However, Catherine seemed completely unaware of just how sharp and penetrating his gaze was. She hadn’t dared to meet his eyes the whole time.

Bert glanced at the departing clerk, thinking to himself that at least she had some self-awareness.

Then his gaze returned to Catherine, who looked awkward and uneasy, and a faint smile crept into his voice:

"You can even remember what color shirts I’ve worn? You know I haven’t worn this color before?"

Catherine was truly embarrassed now. She bit her lip, slightly annoyed, and glared at him.

Was it really okay for him to say that? It made it seem as if she paid so much attention to him that she remembered every detail of his wardrobe.

But the truth was, she did remember. It wasn’t that she had been consciously observing him; it was simply because he wore clothes so well, and his presence was so striking that it left a deep impression.

"I’m thirty-six this year," he suddenly said, his gaze meeting hers, his voice low and steady.

"Compared to you... I am indeed a bit old."

Catherine was momentarily stunned, not quite understanding why he said this, but she couldn’t help evaluating his age in her mind.

Previously, she had guessed he was at least thirty-two. Now she had a definite answer: thirty-six.

Ten years older than her, which also meant ten more years of experience in the world.

A thirty-six-year-old man carried none of the impulsiveness or recklessness of youth. The years had tempered him, giving him a presence that commanded respect without force—calm, composed, and restrained.

He was long past the age of throwing tantrums or shouting to vent. From the many times she had interacted with him, Catherine had almost never heard him raise his voice. Even when teasing Lucca or Channing, his tone and demeanor remained calm, measured, and unhurried, as if nothing could rattle him and almost nothing in the world was truly a problem.

And this composed, steady presence made Catherine feel a sense of tranquility whenever she was with him—a solid, unwavering sense of safety.