CHAPTER 6 – BREAKFAST TOGETHER

CHAPTER 6 – BREAKFAST TOGETHER

Isabel could not hide her curiosity. “Chatrine, I’m still wondering… what exactly did you say your job is again?”

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

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

She clearly did not understand modern terms.

“It means,” Chatrine leaned forward slightly, “I will help Liam sell more artwork, attract visitors from outside the town, make the gallery more well-known, and possibly connect it to the international art market.”

“Wow!” Isabel exclaimed in admiration. “Liam, did you hear that? International market!”

Liam closed his eyes briefly, holding back his patience. “Mom, that’s just… college theory.”

Isabel did not care. She turned back to Chatrine, her eyes sparkling. “You know, Chatrine, I’ve always wanted Liam to have a smart partner. He’s too stubborn on his own.”

“Mom!” Liam almost dropped his spoon. “This is not about a partner!”

Of course, Isabel would not miss any chance to see her son settle down like his siblings.

“But when people work together, sometimes it requires… a deeper compatibility, right?”

Chatrine sipped her coffee slowly, listening to the exchange with a calm expression.

“She’s only doing an internship at the gallery for no more than three months,” Liam clarified firmly.

“Three months?” Isabel looked surprised, then turned to Chatrine. “I hope Liam makes you feel comfortable at the gallery.”

“I like art, and I’m very interested in learning directly from the artist,” Chatrine replied with a sweet, professional smile.

“I need to get ready,” Liam said suddenly as he stood up. “I have a lot of work to do at the gallery.”

He walked into his room without another word. Outside, Chatrine continued chatting with Isabel, but Liam no longer cared. To him, her politeness sounded fake, especially when his heart was still filled with resentment.

A few minutes later, Liam came out of his room. This time, he was not wearing his usual worn flannel shirt. Instead, he wore a neatly pressed dark blue shirt, buttoned properly, tucked into his jeans, and paired with a brown leather belt. The combination made him look like a mix between a hardworking craftsman and a well-established man.

Chatrine, who had been sipping her coffee, almost choked when she saw him. From her perspective, Liam was not the typical metropolitan man in expensive suits or polished shoes. But his tall frame, broad shoulders, and muscles shaped by physical work gave him a different kind of appeal. Effortlessly masculine. A kind of charm that could not be bought.

“Wow…” Isabel murmured softly, clapping her hands. “Liam, you look like you’re going to an important business meeting.”

Liam exhaled, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Mom, I’m just going to work.”

He tried to act normal, as if he always dressed like that.

Isabel smiled brightly. “If you dressed like this every day, you might already have a partner.”

“Mom,” Liam cut in quickly, glancing at Chatrine.

Chatrine could not hide her faint smile. There was something amusing about seeing him struggle with his own mother.

“Let’s go,” Liam said, grabbing his pickup keys from the table. He glanced briefly at Chatrine. “Follow me.”

It was clear he meant she should drive her own car. He had no intention of giving her a ride.

Chatrine stood up and adjusted her blazer.

Isabel also stood, her face glowing with warmth. “Chatrine, feel free to visit anytime. This house is always open for you.”

“Thank you, Aunt Isabel,” Chatrine replied politely with her sweetest smile.

Liam only nodded briefly. “We’re leaving, Mom.”

“Alright, take care, both of you,” Isabel said, waving happily.

Outside, Liam opened his pickup door and started the engine. Chatrine walked to her own car parked beside Eva’s house. Her sleek black sedan stood in sharp contrast to Liam’s worn pickup.

As she rolled down her window, she glanced at Liam, who was adjusting his mirror.

Their eyes met, but Liam gave no response.

He drove off slowly, making sure Chatrine followed behind. From time to time, he caught her reflection in his mirror. She looked professional, but her gaze suggested something else, as if she were studying him or waiting to see who would win.

That thought irritated him even more.

Liam felt that Chatrine had come to Canterbury on purpose, turning everything into some kind of game to get back at him. He could not afford to let his guard down.

When they arrived at the gallery, Liam deliberately parked far from Chatrine’s car. She chose to ignore his cold attitude.

He stepped out and immediately spoke to two workers who had just arrived, giving them instructions. They glanced briefly at Chatrine, but Liam did not introduce her.

After the workers left to start their tasks, Liam finally walked over to her.

“Come on,” he said shortly, already heading toward the entrance.

Chatrine followed behind. She was used to dealing with cold and distant men like Aron Loghan, and she was not the type to depend on small emotional attention.

As soon as the gallery door opened, the scent of oil paint mixed with wood filled her senses. She paused at the entrance, scanning the place like an art judge evaluating an exhibition.

“Hm…” she murmured, observing the slightly worn white walls, unstable wooden shelves, and dim lighting that felt more like a storage room than a gallery.

The lighting was too dull.

The arrangement lacked a clear flow.

The brochures were unappealing.

Her mind quickly filled with notes.

“This condition cannot be elevated to an international branding level,” she said bluntly. “There’s no atmosphere to make visitors want to stay longer.”

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

“I came to work for you,” Chatrine replied firmly. “My job is to fix this mess.”

“This is just a small-town gallery. Buyers come because they trust the quality of our work.”

“Alright, can I be honest?” Chatrine challenged him.

Liam did not stop her.

“Honestly, I don’t like artists,” she continued boldly. “They are usually too stubborn to accept new ideas.”

“Then why are you here?” Liam cut in sharply.

“Because I hope you’re not like them,” she said, lifting her chin so their faces were level.

Liam took a deep breath and exhaled roughly.

“Do whatever you want.”

His voice was still harsh, but Chatrine did not care. The important thing was that she had his approval.

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

Liam glared at her. “Don’t call me that.”

He clearly disliked formalities.

“Then what should I call you?”

“Just Liam.”

He walked ahead, with Chatrine following. The deeper she went inside, the more chaotic everything seemed. Valuable art pieces were placed carelessly.

“You really have no sense of flow,” she commented.

Liam sighed, trying not to take offense. “I need someone who can actually work, not someone who just creates fancy terms.”

“Relax,” Chatrine said with a small smile as she stepped in front of him. “I may not have muscles like your workers, but I use my brain. I multitask. I handle things most men struggle with.”

Liam scoffed but said nothing.

“Now show me my workspace,” she added, ready to begin.

“There is no special office,” Liam said as he headed toward the metal stairs. “You can use mine. I work mostly in the warehouse.”

The stairs creaked as they went up. At the top, Liam opened a thick wooden door.

“This isn’t an office like Denton Global.”

As soon as she stepped inside, Chatrine fell silent. It was clearly a typical man’s workspace.

A large wooden desk covered in scratches was filled with sketches, invoices, and scattered nails. An old laptop sat plugged in with tangled cables. In one corner were torn catalogs, a worn wooden chair, and a small sofa that had once been cream but now looked gray.

The walls were covered with taped notes, some already peeling off.

Chatrine held her breath.

“Wow…” she blinked several times. “I don’t know whether to call this an office or a social experiment.”

Liam responded firmly. “This is where I think. Don’t disrupt the system.”

“System?” Chatrine pointed at the messy papers. “This isn’t a system. It’s an administrative fossil collection.”

Liam leaned against the door, crossing his arms. “Are you here to work at an art gallery or to start a cleaning service?”

Chatrine smiled slightly, trying to be more careful. “I’m just asking… may I tidy up a little? To make it more professional?”

Liam looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t move the small hammer in the corner of the desk. I know exactly where it is.”

Chatrine almost laughed but held it in. “Alright. Your hammer is safe. I’ll guard it with my life.”

Liam ignored her and walked out, heading downstairs.

“I’ll be in the warehouse. If you need anything, just shout. I don’t have a special bell for intern managers.”