Chapter 61:
Rhys, who had admired the work of many esteemed calligraphers and had his preferences, found Harlee’s handwriting particularly captivating, much like her.
“Thank you, Miss Sanderson.”
Lindsay stole a peek at the translated report, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. The elegance of Harlee’s script was a stark contrast to her own hurried, untidy writing.
Lindsay was frustrated.
Harlee, flaunting her prowess at every opportunity, was thoroughly irritating! Despite Harlee’s humble origins, she possessed an undeniable talent for charm and allure.
Yet, Lindsay was certain Harlee couldn’t come close to her, a fair lady from a prestigious family.
After reviewing the exam report and seeing no urgent matters, Rhys closed the document and handed it over to his assistant.
“Keep this safe,” he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.
“Certainly, Mr. Green,” his assistant responded with a respectful nod.
Below the table, Lindsay clasped her fingers tightly, her eyes sharply focused on the document. It was merely a medical report, yet she noticed Rhys handled it with unusual care.
It seemed he valued the handwriting of Harlee, that wretched woman.
Moments later, a parade of waiters in uniform marched in, each carrying a dish. The table quickly filled with a variety of dishes, creating a feast of impressive size.
Harlee looked surprised at the extravagant setup.
For just the three of them, this level of extravagance seemed unnecessary.
Rhys said, “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered one of everything on the menu.”
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He had thought about asking directly but worried Harlee might simply respond with, “Anything’s fine.” Hoping to learn her favorites, he decided it would be best to see which dishes she chose most often and made a mental note of them.
Lindsay was seething with jealousy. She had done so much for Rhys, yet he had never treated her to a meal, let alone one as extravagant as this.
This meal must have cost a fortune.
“Miss Sanderson, being from a simple background, you might not recognize these dishes.
Allow me to introduce them so you know how to enjoy them,” Lindsay said, pointing to a dish with a gracious smile.
“This is caviar, the finest kind.
A single spoonful is worth 40 thousand dollars.”
“You use a special spoon made of shell to scoop it, place it at the base of your thumb, savor it gently, and then press it against the roof of your mouth with your tongue to experience its rich flavor burst.
Did you get that, Miss Sanderson?” Lindsay’s expression was arrogant, as if to suggest Harlee was out of her element.
Harlee just chuckled.
“It’s surprising, Miss Morgan, that you’re so fascinated with something as simple as pickles. They’re quite ordinary, yet you treasure them dearly.”
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