Chapter 8
It all happened too quickly. Before the others at the table could react, Shawn had already marched out of the dining area.
Soren studied Tara. He knew that she hadn’t meant to do it. He’d stood up too abruptly, and Shawn had been walking too close. So, a collision was inevitable.
Tara was rubbing her right shoulder with her left hand. Her shoulders were slender, her collarbone pale and delicately defined.
“Are you okay?” Soren asked, surprising even himself.
Perhaps it was because he’d indirectly caused her to get bumped, stirring an uncharacteristic flicker of sympathy.
When the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Tara was the type who’d seize any opportunity to get ahead. What if she thought he was interested in her?
But Tara dismissed it as nothing more than a polite inquiry.
She dropped her hand from her shoulder, replying, “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Soren’s eyes as he studied her again, puzzled.
Tara pushed the chair back under the table. When she looked up, she found him staring at her as if she were some rare specimen.
She frowned, bewildered. Instinctively, she touched her face, checking for whatever might have drawn his attention.
“Mr. Farrell, is there something else?” Tara asked.
There was nothing unusual about her face, so why was he staring at her that way?
Soren snapped out of his thoughts, his tall frame straightening with an air of effortless arrogance.
“Nothing,” he said before walking away.
Tara watched his retreating figure, puzzled, but soon dismissed it.
Among the four male leads, only Shawn seemed outwardly stable. Lance presented himself as gentle and scholarly, yet beneath that façade lay an air of quiet superiority.
Jonah was all icy detachment, while Soren’s moods swung like a pendulum. But each commanded admiration from everyone around them.
She’d have to maintain her distance from them, even at work.
Stella, Leah, and Hailey had all seen Tara bump into Shawn moments earlier. Based on what they “knew” about her—and her past behavior—they were convinced that she’d done it on purpose.
Their stares turned pointed, their expressions making it clear that they believed she still jumped at every chance to lure men in.
Tara glanced their way and instantly knew what they were thinking. However, she couldn’t be bothered with them. After cleaning up Soren’s table, she was ready to end her shift.
Just as she clocked out and stretched, Stella rushed over. Assuming that Stella was also there to punch out, Tara moved aside to let her pass.
“Tara, Gemma asked you to bring Mr. Pearson a mug of milk,” Stella said.
She had already told Gemma about Tara accidentally bumping into Shawn.
Gemma was shrewd, and her words were never entirely trustworthy. She figured that sending Tara to Jonah with milk was a test.
Tara wasn’t immediately convinced. She checked her phone and saw Gemma’s message in the work group, tagging her to deliver milk to Jonah.
“Fine. I’ll go,” Tara said flatly before walking toward the bar counter.
Stella was sure that Tara wouldn’t pass Gemma’s test. She had no doubt that Tara’s dismissal was just a matter of time.
Tara carried the milk upstairs and knocked on Jonah’s door.
“Come in.”
The voice inside was cool and detached. Tara opened the door but didn’t enter immediately.
“Mr. Pearson, Gemma told me to bring you this milk,” she said.
She stressed Gemma’s name, making it clear that she was only here because she’d been told to come.
Hearing her, Jonah glanced up from the new project proposal toward the door. His expression darkened when he saw her, his annoyance evident, though he held back any outburst.
Tara’s only goal was to deliver the milk and finish her shift. She walked straight in, avoiding unnecessary glances, and placed the warm mug on the coffee table instead of his desk.
The moment she turned to leave, Jonah’s icy voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned back, confused. The soft light caught in her eyes, making them gleam almost irresistibly.
Jonah hesitated before saying, “Give me the milk.”
His tone was sharp. Tara immediately picked up the mug and moved it to his desk. She didn’t ask if he needed anything else.
Instead, she said, “Have a good night, Mr. Pearson.”
Then, she left the room without hesitation. Her steps were quick, as if escaping some unseen threat.
Jonah glanced sideways, his sharp features cold and unreadable. After barely a second, his expression didn’t change as he went back to reviewing the proposal in front of him.
Outside his door, Tara carried the tray downstairs with one hand. She didn’t think that there would be any more problems now. Finally, she could finish her shift.
Of the four male leads, only Jonah managed Pearson Group’s demands while flawlessly pursuing his music career. It was no wonder he was brilliant, ridiculously wealthy, and unfairly good-looking.
Tara would’ve chosen an easy life if she’d been born rich. Yet across two lifetimes, she’d stayed broke. In her past life, she’d finally saved enough to take it easy, only to lose everything in an accident—even her life.
The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. Thus, she forced herself to stop.
As she reached the first floor, Jonah’s phone buzzed upstairs. He rubbed his tired eyes and picked up his phone.
Gemma had texted him. “Mr. Pearson, did that housekeeper upset you earlier?”
Jonah skimmed the message and typed a reply. “No.”
After sending it, he ignored Gemma’s follow-ups. Tara, who had delivered the milk, barely crossed his mind.
Meanwhile, Tara reached the first floor and spotted two people near the stairs—Stella and Leah. She didn’t approach them. Instead, she returned to the bar counter, washed the tray, and slid it into the dishwasher.
Stella and Leah had been waiting downstairs since Tara went up to deliver the milk, bracing for Jonah’s outburst at any second.
They were surprised when Tara made it back from the second floor without any sign of Jonah’s anger. They watched her return the tray to the bar counter, then exchanged a glance.
“Stella, Tara doesn’t seem to be after Mr. Pearson anymore,” Leah said.
Otherwise, Jonah wouldn’t have stayed so quiet.
Stella’s frown vanished before Leah could notice, and she replied kindly, “Maybe last time was just a misunderstanding. Tara can continue delivering his fruit and milk from now on.”
“A misunderstanding? Mr. Pearson doesn’t fly off the handle for no reason. It was obvious what Tara was trying to do!”
Leah’s mind flashed back to the incident, and her disdain for Tara surged again.
Stella looked troubled but didn’t speak up for Tara again. Deep down, she was disappointed by how smoothly things had gone. She reckoned that Tara must have grown more cautious.
Tara’s stunning beauty grated on her. She resented that perfect face and those curves. Stella was determined to find a way to get rid of Tara.
In her first-floor room, Tara glanced at the clock. It was 9:00 pm. She grabbed a bowl of chilled cherries from the fridge and snacked on them while watching a TV series.
Neither she nor the original owner of her body had ever had close friends, so her social media remained silent. Apparently, the original host had been just as isolated.
Solitude didn’t bother Tara. Whether she had friends or not made no difference to her.
After watching the series until 10:00 pm, she showered and slipped into bed. The day’s exhaustion pulled her into a deep, dreamless slumber.
