CHAPTER 6 – BREAKFAST TOGETHER

Isabel still looked fascinated.

“Chatrine, I’m still curious,” she admitted warmly. “What exactly did you say your job was again?”

“Managing strategic marketing and gallery development,” Chatrine replied confidently.

Isabel blinked. “That sounds incredibly important. What does it actually mean?”

She genuinely did not understand modern corporate language.

“It means,” Chatrine explained, leaning forward slightly, “I’ll help Liam sell more artwork, attract visitors from outside the city, make the gallery more recognizable, and possibly even connect it to the international art market.”

“Oh my.” Isabel clicked her tongue in amazement. “Liam, did you hear that? International market!”

Liam closed his eyes briefly, summoning patience.

“Mom, that’s just… university theory.”

Isabel ignored him completely. Her eyes sparkled as she turned back toward Chatrine.

“You know, Chatrine, I’ve always hoped Liam would end up with someone intelligent. He’s far too stubborn on his own.”

“Mom.” Liam nearly dropped his spoon. “This is not about finding me a partner.”

Of course, Isabel had no intention of wasting an opportunity to imagine her son finally settling down like his older siblings.

“Well,” she continued innocently, “when two people work closely together, sometimes they need a deeper kind of compatibility, don’t they?”

Chatrine lifted her coffee cup slowly, listening to the argument between mother and son with calm amusement.

“Chatrine is only doing practical study work at the gallery,” Liam clarified quickly. “No more than three months.”

“Three months?” Isabel repeated brightly before turning to Chatrine again. “Then I hope Liam makes you feel welcome here.”

“I love art,” Chatrine answered smoothly, her posture still elegant and perfectly composed. “And I’m very interested in learning directly from the artist himself.”

“I should get ready.”

Liam abruptly pushed back his chair and stood up.

“I have work to do at the gallery.”

Without another word, he disappeared into his room with deliberate indifference.

Outside, Chatrine continued chatting pleasantly with Isabel, but Liam had already stopped listening. Every polite laugh and graceful smile sounded artificial to him. His heart still carried too much resentment to believe anything about her was sincere.

Several minutes later, Liam stepped out of his room again.

This time he was no longer wearing his usual worn flannel shirt. Instead, he had changed into a dark blue button-up neatly pressed and tucked into his jeans, finished with a brown leather belt.

The combination gave him an oddly striking appearance. Part laborer, part established businessman. Rugged in a way that somehow worked entirely too well.

Chatrine nearly coughed on her coffee the moment she saw him.

Liam was not the type of man who wore tailored suits or polished leather shoes. Yet his height, broad shoulders, and the naturally built muscles earned from years of physical labor gave him a completely different kind of appeal.

Masculine without trying.

The kind of presence no credit card in the world could purchase, Chatrine thought while quietly steadying her breathing.

“Oh my,” Isabel murmured happily, clapping her hands once. “Liam, you look like a man heading to an important business meeting.”

Liam sighed, visibly uncomfortable with the compliment.

“Mom, I’m dressed exactly the same as always.”

He tried to act casual, as though this appearance were completely normal for him.

Isabel only smiled wider.

“If you looked like this every day, maybe you’d already have a wife.”

“Mom,” Liam cut in immediately, shooting a glance toward Chatrine.

Chatrine could not stop the small smile pulling at her lips. There was something deeply entertaining about watching a man like Liam become completely defenseless around his own mother.

“Alright, we’re leaving.”

Liam grabbed his pickup keys from the table before giving Chatrine a brief look.

“You’re driving behind me.”

Meaning he had absolutely no intention of offering her a ride.

Chatrine stood calmly and adjusted the light blazer she had just slipped back on.

Beside her, Isabel rose as well, looking oddly delighted, as though the entire morning had suddenly become brighter.

“Chatrine, don’t hesitate to visit whenever you want. This house is always open to you.”

“Thank you, Aunt Isabel,” Chatrine replied politely, offering her sweetest smile once again.

Liam barely glanced back before speaking quickly.

“We’re leaving now, Mom.”

“Drive safely, both of you!” Isabel waved cheerfully, looking entirely satisfied with herself.

Outside, Liam opened the door of his pickup and started the engine in one swift motion.

Meanwhile, Chatrine crossed toward her own car parked beside Eva’s house. Her sleek black sedan looked absurdly elegant compared to Liam’s aging truck.

As she lowered the window, she briefly glanced toward him while he adjusted his side mirror.

Their eyes met for a second.

Liam looked away first.

He drove slowly through the village roads, making sure Chatrine continued following behind him. Every now and then, he caught her reflection again in the mirror.

Professional.

Composed.

But there was something unsettling in her eyes.

As though she were studying an opponent.

Or waiting to see which one of them would win this strange little game.

The thought only irritated him further.

Liam was convinced Chatrine had come to Canterbury deliberately to humiliate him in return for the insults he had thrown at her before.

He could not afford to let his guard down.

Not around a woman like Chatrine Madison.

The moment they arrived at the gallery parking lot, Liam intentionally parked his truck as far away from Chatrine’s sedan as possible.

Chatrine pretended not to notice.

Liam stepped out immediately and walked over to two workers who had just arrived. He began giving instructions while Chatrine remained standing beside her car, silently observing.

The workers glanced toward her more than once, but Liam made no effort to introduce anyone.

Only after the men headed off toward the warehouse did Liam finally return and gesture toward the gallery entrance.

“Come on.”

He walked ahead without waiting.

Fortunately, Chatrine was already experienced in dealing with cold, emotionally unavailable men like Aron Loghan. Besides, she was not the type of woman who required sentimental attention from anyone.

The moment the gallery doors opened, the scent of oil paint and wood filled the air around her.

Chatrine paused at the entrance, studying the interior with the expression of an art critic judging a disappointing exhibition.

“Hm.”

Her eyes swept across faded white walls, unstable wooden shelves, and lighting that resembled an abandoned storage room more than an art gallery.

The lights were too dim.

The displays had no narrative flow.

The brochures were forgettable.

Within seconds, her mind had already produced an endless list of problems.

“This space could never survive international branding standards,” Chatrine announced immediately. “There’s no atmosphere here that encourages visitors to stay.”

Liam turned sharply toward her.

“Did you come all the way here just to criticize my work?”

“I came here to work for you,” Chatrine answered firmly, her gaze sharp and professional. “Which means it’s now my job to fix this chaos.”

“This is just a small-town gallery,” Liam replied coldly. “Customers come because they already trust the quality of what we make.”

“Alright.” Chatrine crossed her arms lightly. “May I be honest?”

Liam did not stop her.

That alone counted as permission.

“To be honest,” she continued boldly, “I usually dislike artists.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed instantly.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I hope you’re different from them.”

Chatrine lifted her chin slightly so their faces aligned at the same level.

After a long moment of silence, Liam finally exhaled heavily.

“Do whatever you want.”

His tone remained rough, but Chatrine did not care.

The important thing was that she had won approval.

“Thank you for your permission, Mr. Conelli.”

Liam immediately glared at her.

“Don’t call me that.”

Clearly, he hated formalities.

“Then what should I call you?”

Chatrine waited innocently, though the amusement hidden in her eyes made Liam want to walk straight back out the door.

“Just Liam.”

Without another word, he walked farther inside, forcing Chatrine to follow behind him.

The deeper they went into the gallery, the more horrified she became. Beautiful pieces of furniture and artwork had simply been placed wherever there was space, without any structure or presentation.

“You really live without any sense of visual direction, don’t you?”

Liam sighed slowly, trying not to take offense.

“I need someone who can actually work,” he muttered, “not someone who specializes in inventing acronyms.”

“Relax,” Chatrine replied smoothly.

She stepped in front of him slightly, half blocking his path, half challenging him.

“I may not have muscles like your workers, but I use my brain instead. I multitask. You know, I’m very skilled at things most men struggle to do.”

Liam snorted softly but refused to engage with her arrogance.

“Now,” Chatrine continued briskly, “show me where my office is.”

“There’s no private office.”

Liam headed toward the iron staircase leading upstairs.

“You can use mine. I spend most of my time in the workshop anyway.”

The metal stairs creaked beneath their footsteps.

At the top, Liam opened a heavy wooden door.

“This isn’t an executive office at Denton Global.”

The moment Chatrine stepped inside, she fell silent.

The room looked unmistakably like the workspace of an ordinary man.

A large wooden desk sat in the middle, scarred with scratches and covered in sketches, invoices, and scattered nails. An old laptop rested crookedly beside tangled charging cables that clearly never left the outlet.

Stacks of torn catalogs filled one corner beside a faded wooden chair with thinning cushions. A small sofa sat against the wall, though whatever color it had originally been was now impossible to identify beneath years of dust and use.

Notes had been taped randomly across the walls, several peeling outward at the edges.

Chatrine slowly inhaled.

“Wow.”

She blinked several times.

“I genuinely can’t tell whether this is your office or some kind of social experiment.”

Liam leaned against the doorway with folded arms.

“This is where I think. Don’t ruin the system.”

“System?” Chatrine pointed toward the chaotic piles of paper. “Liam, this isn’t a system. This is an archaeological site.”

“Did you come here to work in an art gallery,” Liam asked dryly, “or to start a cleaning service?”

This time Chatrine smiled more carefully.

“I’m only asking whether I may organize a few things,” she said. “Just enough to make it feel slightly more professional.”

Liam stared at her for a moment before shrugging.

“Do whatever makes you comfortable. Just don’t move the small hammer on the corner of the desk. I know exactly where it belongs.”

Chatrine almost laughed.

“Understood, Mr. Artist. Your hammer will remain perfectly safe. I’ll guard it with my life.”

Liam ignored the joke completely.

He had already turned and started heading back downstairs.

“I’ll be in the workshop,” he called over his shoulder. “If you need something, yell. I don’t have a special service bell for internship managers.”