CHAPTER 77: CHAPTER 77- SWEET-TALK

Catherine wasn’t as stunning as Marylin to begin with, and on top of that, she carried a past she could hardly bear to look back on.

She bit her lip, stood there in silence for a moment, then finally lifted her eyes to him again.

"Do you know about my past? Is it because you know what I’ve been through that you think I’m the kind of woman you can fool around with? Is that why you’re saying these things to me?"

"And all the times you helped me before—was it just because you wanted something from me? My body?"

She had always been thin-skinned, so when she uttered that last part, her entire face flushed crimson.

It wasn’t that Catherine wanted to think so badly of Bert; she simply couldn’t bring herself to believe he had such feelings for her out of love. After Gerald, her attitude toward love—and toward men—had mostly turned bleak. If a relationship built over so many years could be abandoned so easily, then what about men she had barely known for a short while?

Men like Bert, for example. How long had they even known each other? They could hardly be called acquainted. How could there possibly be love?

Her words darkened Bert’s expression, and even his tone turned cold as he replied,

"If all I wanted was to get you, would I need to tell you I’m approaching this with marriage in mind?"

Catherine blinked, then muttered under her breath,

"Anyone can sweet-talk."

In fact, the very reason she trusted him even less was because he claimed marriage was his premise. Marriage was a major life decision—he had known her for only a few days, and he already wanted to spend his life with her?

Men willing to say anything for their goals were countless. They could whisper all the sweetest words, do all the so-called touching things—but what happened after they got what they wanted? How many truly cherished anything?

Bert actually let out a low laugh—one fueled by anger.

"Fine."

"Catherine, unbelievable. You really think I’m trying to deceive you with sweet talk?"

For years, Bert had always been smooth and successful in matters of romance; he had never been rejected by a woman. He had expected Catherine might turn him down—her personality wasn’t one to throw caution aside—but he had never expected her to think of him in such a terrible light.

To accuse him of using flowery lies?

His jaw tightened as he glared at her, lips pressed into a firm, icy line. Catherine bit her lip and met his gaze head-on. Since she had already angered him, she figured there was nothing left to fear.

So she restated her stance clearly, formally:

"Lord Washington, I’m very grateful for all the times you’ve helped me before. But regarding your suggestion that we pursue a relationship... I don’t think we’re suitable. To be exact, I’m not qualified. So please, let’s remain nothing more than a simple employer and employee."

Catherine had thrown caution to the wind to say this. And once the words were out, she felt so nervous that she held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

She had imagined he might explode in anger and throw her out, or lash out and mock her.

But instead, after staring at her with a cold, rigid expression for a while, he said faintly,

"Alright."

"Get to work."

He instantly shifted back into his businesslike demeanor—as though he truly accepted what she said, as though from this point on they were only boss and employee.

After speaking, he walked to the chair opposite Catherine, sat down, opened his laptop, and instructed expressionlessly,

"The concept you mentioned earlier—the ’Alluring City’ theme—is good. Design according to that."

Since he acted like this, Catherine didn’t dwell on it anymore. She sat down at her own computer and prepared to work.

She thought to herself that modern love was like fast food—two words of ’like,’ three words of ’love,’ and if you couldn’t win someone over in seven days, you simply walked away. And Bert was such a proud man. Now that she’d rejected him, he probably wouldn’t bother pursuing her any further. The thought actually made her relax a little.

The rest of the morning passed with both of them absorbed in their respective work, sketching their own drafts. They spoke a few times here and there. When Bert went downstairs for water, he brought a glass for Catherine too, and even came back with a plate of washed fruit.

Catherine didn’t eat while working—she felt it disrupted her train of thought. So even when Bert put the fruit plate right in front of her, she never noticed, continuing to focus intently on her drawings.

Seeing how absorbed she was, Bert simply sat down across from her, narrowed his eyes, and openly, unabashedly studied her.

Being rejected for the first time in his life, it was impossible for Bert to feel nothing. A flicker of negative emotion surfaced—but he suppressed it almost instantly. Her refusal didn’t mean he intended to give up.

He also didn’t believe she was rejecting him out of coyness like other women might. He knew she genuinely thought they were unsuitable. He knew her heart carried inferiority, lack of confidence, and doubt toward his feelings. He understood all of it.

Before someone as perceptive as him, her thoughts were transparent.

She was sensitive, with a touch of stubbornness. If he wanted her to open up, time would be the only answer.

Besides, she was under his nose all day long—he wasn’t worried someone else would sweep her away.

So, he could wait.

Catherine had been completely immersed in sketching, mentally shutting herself off from the world around her. It wasn’t until she finally finished the design for the ring that she realized the spacious studio now contained only her.

Bert was nowhere in sight. Beside her hands sat a cup of warm water and a plate of neatly washed fruit—several varieties, all seasonal autumn fruits—showing the meticulous care of the one who prepared it.

Sunlight poured into the room. Catherine stared blankly at the fruit.

She had thought that after rejecting him, he would no longer care about her at all...

She took the cup and finished the water, then stood and walked out of the studio.

"Lord Washington?"

She called cautiously, thinking that if he was nearby, she could ask him to take a look at her design sketch. But no one answered.

She walked a few steps toward the stairs when she heard the sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen downstairs. Catherine checked the time—it was already noon. She hadn’t expected him to be cooking again...

For some reason, the way they were interacting now no longer felt like a boss and employee. It felt more like... a couple. One working upstairs, the other preparing lunch downstairs...

But hadn’t she just said they should keep things strictly professional?

With a complicated mix of emotions, Catherine walked downstairs and headed toward the kitchen.

She had already decided to tell him she would eat outside. Whatever he cooked, he could have it himself. The villa area around here might be quiet and remote, but it couldn’t possibly be so deserted that there was nowhere to eat. And if all else failed, she could order takeout. One way or another, she was determined to keep their boundaries clear.

However, just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Bert coming out of the kitchen with one hand holding a plate of food. He glanced at her and said calmly,

"Wash your hands. Lunch."

Catherine hurriedly blurted out,

"Um—Lord Washington, I—I’m going out to eat."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Dislike my cooking?"

"No, no, not at all..."

She denied it instantly. She had tasted his cooking before—easily comparable to a professional chef’s. How could she possibly dislike it?

"Then sit down."

His voice was cool, leaving no room for refusal, before he turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Catherine: "..."