I want you

7 Episode

"Do you also have a part-time job here?" His tone suggested sentiments like "haunting ghost," "fated enemies," or "how did we run into each other now?" Emily was momentarily at a loss for words. She hung up the phone and awkwardly nodded at him.

Michael also ended his call. Emily noticed his phone was different. Although it was the same brand, model, and even color, it looked slightly newer from the sheen and edges.

"Got a new phone?" Emily broke the silence, walking around the counter toward him.

Michael hesitated for a moment before stepping into her counter area, one hand holding the phone and the other in his pocket. He glanced at the men's clothing display and replied, "Yes."

He seemed reluctant to talk more, so Emily got straight to the point, "Actually, I was wondering if what you mentioned this morning still stands?"

Michael had anticipated her question. He turned slightly, giving her a sidelong glance while focusing on the brand sign, "Of course. If you're willing, you can move in anytime. There's a guest room on the first floor for you."

"Move in?" Emily was surprised.

"First, it saves you rent," he analyzed, looking at her. "Second, my schedule is irregular. Sometimes I come back at night and might need cleaning or cooking. It's more convenient if you live there." He then added, "But if you're not willing, that's fine. Just be available when I need you."

Without a phone, how could he contact her? If he needed her at night, it would be hard to get there without public transport, and taxis would be too expensive. His last comment was almost pointless. However, his initial points were quite tempting for Emily.

Saving on rent meant she could save more money and not deal with her troublesome roommates.

So, Emily agreed readily, "No problem, I can move in."

"Then move in this afternoon. I have something to do, goodbye." He turned to leave, then looked back at her, frowning, "Do you have a pen?"

Emily immediately took out a pen from her uniform pocket and handed it to him. Michael glanced around, then hesitated and said, "Your hand."

Instinctively, Emily extended her hand. She had almost grown used to his commands since last night. As he wrote a string of numbers on her palm, she realized her hand was getting sweaty.

After finishing, Michael capped the pen and returned it to her. "It's the lock code for the house." He checked his watch, "I'm in a hurry. See you later." Without waiting for her response, he turned and left, this sudden urgency piquing her curiosity about him.

Previously, she simply found him to be an exemplary man in terms of manners, looks, and mysterious occupation. Now, seeing a different side of him and knowing she would live under the same roof, she was even more curious about his true character.

Emily had the chance to explore this curiosity. That afternoon, she moved into Ocean Breeze Villas, house number 19. By the time she finished settling in, Michael hadn't returned yet.

The guest room was simply but fully furnished in a black-and-white modern style, matching Michael's appearance.

There were signs of recent cleaning, indicating he had tidied up again after her morning cleaning.

Emily remembered the phone call. Michael had gone to the department store to buy a new phone after their call. He didn't take his phone when he left that morning, and the room had been rearranged. It was clear he had smashed his phone during the call.

What could have been said to make someone who seemed so composed lose his temper?

As she cooked, Emily tried to dismiss thoughts of him, but it was futile. He intrigued her too much. She was both excited and anxious, expecting something unusual to happen.

Not knowing his preferred tastes, Emily prepared a variety of dishes: Cantonese, Sichuan, and Zhejiang cuisines, hoping to cater to his preferences.

When she finished, she heard the door open and immediately walked out of the kitchen. There stood Michael, carrying a briefcase in the twilight, impeccably dressed in a black suit. His refined and gentlemanly demeanor filled the space, even the chandelier light seemed to tremble with his movements.

"It smells good." Michael was not surprised to see Emily there, nor did he doubt she had everything sorted, otherwise he wouldn't have invited her.

He changed his shoes, set down his briefcase, unbuttoned his suit, and walked to the dining room. After washing his hands in the kitchen, he scanned the various dishes on the table and handed her a bank card from his suit pocket. "The password is 0921. Take what you need."

He sat down at the head of the table, laid a napkin, and began eating. He tasted each dish carefully, ate half a bowl of rice, then put down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth, and looked up to find Emily still standing at the door, "Hmm?"

Emily knew he was puzzled by her lingering presence, but she didn't clarify. Instead, she smiled intriguingly. Her clean eyes, red lips, flowing black hair, and a pair of expressive eyes curved slightly. The casual home clothes revealed her delicate collarbones.

Michael frowned slightly, quickly averted his gaze, and apologized, "Sorry, I forgot to ask if you had dinner."

Emily raised her eyebrows slightly. He thought she was blaming him. But he was the host and she was the maid. It was normal for him to eat alone. He needn't feel guilty.

Emily studied Michael's expression. Now comfortable enough to look directly into his eyes, she noticed that while he verbally apologized, he lacked genuine remorse. It wasn't insincerity, just that most things seemed unimportant to him, including this.

"No worries, I already ate. I'm the maid, you're the host. It's normal for you to eat first. I was just wondering, what kind of food do you prefer? I noticed you ate a bit of everything." She observed his small eating habits and saw no preference. Perhaps he was a perfectionist? He ate very little, no wonder he was so thin.

Michael walked out, responding, "I'm not picky. As long as it tastes good, any dish will do." He added, "There's a bathroom down the hallway on the first floor you can use. Don't make too much noise at night; I sleep lightly."

Good taste was the ultimate picky standard. Making food that met his "good taste" was not easy. Emily watched him walk upstairs, wondering why he was avoiding her.

Was he uncomfortable living with someone? Then why put himself through this?

Shaking her head, Emily focused on cleaning the dining room, seemingly unaware that Michael had paused at the second-floor corner to observe her with an appraising look.

A young, pretty, diligent, and sensible girl who is also poor naturally evokes a protective instinct. Especially if she's beautiful.

Emily's skin was fair, not exactly slim, maybe even slightly plump. Her skin glowed like a pearl under the light, undeniably beautiful and evocative.

Seductive.

Michael frowned slightly and turned away, but long after his footsteps faded, Emily glanced at the second-floor corner, her expression momentarily showing a rare assertiveness and dominance. However, she quickly returned to her usual demeanor, resuming her cleaning as if nothing had changed.