His long-held position of authority gave him a cold, stern aura that was intimidating even when his face was devoid of expression.
He was so tall that Evelyn Grant had to tilt her head up just to meet his dark, indifferent gaze. She looked away after a single glance, her eyes downcast. "Mr. Keaton."
Though she couldn't see his face, Evelyn Grant could feel his profound, heavy gaze resting on the top of her head. His tone was slow, deep, and placid.
"Miss Grant."
Evelyn Grant's heart skipped a beat.
'He actually knows my last name?'
'But then again,' she thought, 'Sophie Keaton must have already told him about me.'
Composed, she walked over to Sophie Keaton with her head lowered, focusing on the task at hand.
Sophie Keaton hadn't seen her brother in a long time, so she whined affectionately, "You should stay at Clearwater Bay tonight. Don't go back to The Mid-Levels, please? I haven't seen you in half a year."
"And are you really not coming to the yacht party?"
She gazed at her brother with pleading, shimmering eyes that would soften anyone's heart.
But not Preston Keaton. He refused coolly, "Not interested. I'm not going."
Sophie Keaton clicked her tongue in disappointment, muttering, "You're such an old fossil. You don't like this, you're not interested in that... All you think about is business. I wonder how old you'll be before you finally get married."
"..." Evelyn Grant tried to make herself invisible.
But, of course, what you dread most is exactly what's bound to happen.
Sophie Keaton puffed out her cheeks petulantly. "Evelyn is my guest of honor. If you're not going, then you can stay home and keep her company."
Evelyn Grant nearly choked on her own spit.
She sucked in a horrified breath, but before she could speak, Preston Keaton's gaze shifted to her. His every move exuded an aristocratic grace that seemed ingrained in his very bones. His voice was soft.
"Mm."
Now even Sophie Keaton was stunned.
She had never seen her brother be so accommodating.
His patience was limited with everyone, including her. Sophie Keaton was only throwing a little fit because it was her birthday; she never expected him to agree so readily.
She had talked herself into a corner. Sophie Keaton stared blankly at the horrified Evelyn Grant and let out a little, "Oh."
"Well... I'll go down first, then. They're still waiting for me."
Evelyn Grant instinctively started to follow Sophie Keaton.
"Miss Grant."
Evelyn Grant froze as if shackled. Trembling, she turned her head.
Preston Keaton offered a slight, gentlemanly smile and a nod, but his words sent a shiver through Evelyn Grant.
"Weren't you much bolder, Miss Grant, when you were telling someone off in the garden?"
The man lowered his gaze languidly, switching to Cantonese. "But in front of me, you're like a docile little cat."
He knew Evelyn Grant would understand.
The "kitten" before him stared, her eyes wide. After a few seconds of unease, she didn't deny it. "I just feel... I'm a Makeup Artist, not Miss Keaton's guest of honor. The thought of Mr. Keaton keeping me company is a bit... intimidating."
'And she realized that June Jacobs had ditched her at some point and run off!'
'Some friend she is!'
A corner of Preston Keaton's mouth twitched. He turned and started walking away. "Come with me. Time for dinner."
It was utterly bizarre.
Evelyn Grant kept her head down and followed Preston Keaton, sneaking a glance at his back.
When they reached the dining room, Preston Keaton pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. A servant soon appeared, serving a series of exquisitely plated dishes. A stemmed glass with a splash of wine was placed gently before her, its fruity aroma filling the air.
Evelyn Grant's brows furrowed slightly. The whole situation still felt incredibly strange.
'How did things suddenly escalate to me having dinner with the Chairman of Apex?'
'If my dad found out about this, he'd probably think our ancestors had done something incredible to bless the family.'
The meal was a quiet affair. Preston Keaton's table manners had been ingrained in him since childhood; every movement was distinguished and elegant.
Evelyn Grant was even more cautious, afraid to make the slightest sound that might disturb him.
If Stella Ford hadn't burst in, the rest of the meal would have likely been excruciatingly uncomfortable for her.
Stella Ford was only twenty, after all—not yet old enough to perfectly conceal her emotions. She entered with a beaming smile, but the moment she saw Evelyn Grant, her mood instantly deflated.
She pressed her lips together, forced a smile, and cautiously approached Preston Keaton's side. A subtle, coquettish whine entered her voice. "Preston, why aren't you at the party?"
'Actually, since that afternoon, Evelyn had sensed that Stella Ford had a thing for her friend's older brother.'
'Trying to get her hooks into Preston Keaton, of all people.'
'She's got some nerve.'
She was mostly full, so she silently picked up her wine glass and took a delicate sip. The wine wasn't too strong and had a pleasant, faint sweetness. Liking the taste, she squinted in satisfaction and took another sip. She appeared quiet, but in reality, she was all ears, enjoying the drama.
She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but it seemed Preston Keaton had just shot a cool glance in her direction.
"Not interested."
'Tsk, tsk.'
'Such a detached response.'
It seemed Preston Keaton wasn't as gentle as he appeared. Although he had the poise, speech, and bearing of a gentleman, Evelyn Grant couldn't shake the feeling... that he was not someone you wanted to cross.
Her glass was empty, and a servant promptly refilled it.
Preston Keaton tapped his index finger lightly on the table, a gesture that carried an innate, authoritative chill. "Don't drink so much. The alcohol content is high."
Evelyn Grant didn't pay him much mind. She nodded in agreement but then downed the rest of the wine in one go.
This time, however, the servant didn't pour her any more.
This was the Keatons' territory, so of course the staff listened to their boss. Evelyn Grant put down her glass, her interest waning. When she looked up, she met Stella Ford's jealous glare.
"..."
"Preston, I haven't had dinner either," she said, testing the waters. "May I sit and eat?"
'Welp.'
'I guess that's my cue to leave, isn't it?'
Evelyn Grant tilted her head and tactfully stood up. "I'm full. Thank you, Mr. Keaton. I'll be heading back to my room now."
She stood with a slight bow of her head and pushed her chair back into place.
Stella Ford was inwardly delighted, thinking that the girl at least knew her place. Crucially, Preston Keaton had even nodded in agreement. She happily took the seat, but a second later, the man stood up as well.
He loomed over her, his gaze carrying a subtle, intimidating pressure. "Leave when you're done eating."
With that, he left with Evelyn Grant, leaving Stella alone in the dining room. After a few stunned seconds, the rims of Stella's eyes reddened with indignation.
Evelyn Grant trailed behind Preston Keaton like a timid little quail. She'd thought she was finally free, only to have her hopes dashed.
But this path seemed to lead to her room; some parts of it looked familiar.
She rubbed her temples, feeling a little dizzy.
Preston Keaton hadn't been lying; that wine really was strong.
Evelyn Grant frowned, forcing herself to keep up with him. 'I just need to get to my room,' she thought. Yet the hallway seemed to stretch on forever, as if they were walking in circles.
She braced herself against the wall, unable to stay upright. Her knees suddenly buckled. In an instant, a pleasant scent of ebony and sandalwood filled her senses. Preston Keaton caught her, his expression as nonchalant and cold as ever.
He glanced down at her. "I told you it was strong. Still want to argue?"