Three

"Three minutes of my time wasted, Miss."

I gave Hugo my sweetest smile at his sarcastic greeting and walked toward him confidently. Yet not once did he turn his head to look at me.

“Let’s just say those three minutes were payback for the favor I did for Cecil,” I replied smoothly.

That finally made him turn to face me. His eyes scanned me from head to toe—and then he let out a low chuckle.

“Miss Ana…” he murmured with a growing smile, extending his hand toward me.

“Would this business deal fall through if I weren’t Ana?” I asked, half-teasing, half-curious.

“Perhaps I’d still consider a second chance… if the client were this beautiful,” he said. Instead of smiling, I felt a familiar sting in my chest. Years ago, didn't this same man find me utterly disgusting?

“Am I not allowed to sit down?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

Like a perfect gentleman, Hugo wrapped an arm around my waist and led me toward the dining table—just a few steps away. He pulled out my chair and gently slid it in as I sat, making sure I was comfortable.

“If I had known it was you requesting the meeting, I would've rented out an even more special place.”

I responded with a simple smile. But part of me wondered—would he still think that way once he found out I was Tatiana, the owner of that "disgusting" diary?

Throughout dinner, we spoke more about personal things than business. It would be a lie to say Hugo was truly captivated by my beauty—because I knew he was constantly surrounded by women far prettier than me, women who threw themselves at him. What I had that they didn’t was proximity to his cousin. And more importantly, I looked like someone who genuinely cared about Cecil. That’s the weak spot I planned to exploit—and I wouldn’t waste a single chance.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he offered after we sealed the deal and I stood to leave. I’d had enough of his attention, the attention that was completely opposite from the disdain he once showed me.

I forced a polite smile and said, “No need—I have a driver and my assistant with me.”

“Ah, what a shame.” Hugo feigned disappointment.

I’d make sure that look stayed on his face more often.

“Better luck next time,” I said, flashing him a wink before turning away without looking back.

I tossed my bag without care, forcing Holly—who was trailing behind me—to scramble and catch it. Once inside the house, I quickly kicked off my high heels and walked barefoot up the stairs to my room. I needed a long bath to wash off Hugo’s lingering scent—why did his presence still cling to me?

“Prepare a warm bath—with rose petals,” I called out to Holly. She immediately summoned the staff to get it ready.

The musky scent of rose petals in the warm water helped calm my nerves. I sank my head beneath the surface for a few seconds before leaning back, letting the warmth caress every inch of my skin. My eyes closed.

But then Hugo’s face reappeared in my mind.

I opened my eyes in frustration. The days ahead would be long—I’d have to face him again and again. And if his face haunted me after just one dinner, what would happen after multiple meetings?

I dunked my head again, hoping to rinse away every trace of him from my thoughts.

The next day, I had another meeting with Hugo—this time at his office. His business specialized in the Metaverse, offering development and full-service guidance for websites and apps. Clients received ongoing support until they were confident running things on their own. In today’s world, the Metaverse was king. No surprise that Hugo was now one of the top ten richest young men on the planet.

“You’re very lucky, Miss,” a tall man—clearly one of Hugo’s assistants—smiled at me. I lifted an eyebrow, letting the words sink in.

"Mr. Hugo typically delegates client meetings to others. He rarely gets involved personally. But it appears you're something of a special exception," he remarked, though his words didn’t flatter me in the slightest.

I offered him only a polite, restrained smile.  Moments later, Hugo arrived, greeting me with remarkable warmth.

Meeting after meeting followed. And they were growing more unbearable. Hugo began asking me to come alone. He even insisted on driving me home. Our meetings became more frequent. And so did our… closeness.

“Cecil will be visiting,” Hugo said one day.

“Really?”

“Hmm… It’s for my parents’ wedding anniversary—five days from now. I hope you’ll come too, Miss Ana.”

“I’ll try to make it, Mr. Hugo.”

He chuckled softly at my reply, prompting me to glance at him as he drove.

“Is something funny?” I asked, puzzled.

“Hmm…” he replied with a grin.

"Isn’t ‘Mister’ a bit too formal? You can just call me Hugo, Miss Ana,” he said, ending his sentence with a playful wink.

“Hugo?” I echoed.

“It sounds much nicer,” he replied, making me let out a soft laugh.

“Then feel free to call me Ana, too.”

“Is it because ‘Miss’ sounds old to you?”

“Is that what you think?” I asked back, raising a brow.

“Not at all. ‘Miss’ sounds... sexy,” he said with a smirk, prompting another quiet laugh from me. Just then, the car slowed to a stop. It was always like this—somehow, this man I once thought of as a jerk had the uncanny ability to make our rides feel far too short. Could it be that I was beginning to enjoy being around Hugo? No. That can’t be right.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, offering him a warm smile.

"You could always repay me with a real cup of coffee."

"Coffee might keep you up all night, Hugo," I replied gently, a polite refusal.

"So now you're worried about me?"

His response left me momentarily speechless.