But I knew well that they’d talk behind my back, saying I was trying to hold on to my <b>ce </b>as Jared’s wife, dressing to impress <b>every </b>day. Since <b>I </b>couldn’tpete with Tracy in career or skills, I had to rely on my looks.
Honestly, I couldn’t care <b>less</b><b>. </b>As long <b>as </b>they didn’t say it to my face, I’d just turn a blind eye. Being talked about behind my <b>back </b><b>was </b><b>just </b>a roundaboutpliment.
Jared looked grumpy all morning. Maybe <b>he </b>was <b>just </b>sulking because he missed his nut milk. He kept that sour expression on his face until noon.
I couldn’t care less about his mood. I just got on with my work and chatted with the designers.
Around noon, Jared called to ask where I was. I told him I was still at the design studio and nned to grab lunch there.
But Jared insisted I go to a restaurant near the office instead. His tone made it clear that I didn’t have a choice.
So I had no choice but to rush over. As soon as I stepped out of the car, a sudden gust of wind swept by. The wind blew through my flowy, floral chiffon dress and my waist–length, softly curled hair, making them flutter.
A few guys passing by couldn’t take their eyes off me, especially when I quickly reached down to hold my skirt, looking a bit flustered. That brief moment of panic seemed to leave them stunned.
With my head down and cheeks burning, I hurried into the restaurant.
Jared had told me to head up to the second floor. When I got there, I realized his private room overlooked the parking lot. He was standing by the window, turning to look at me as I walked in.
“Honey, what’s the specialty here?” I asked with a bright smile as I stepped inside.
Jared just gave me a long, hard look, not saying a word.
“What’s wrong?” I immediately nced down at myself, checking my outfit. “Is there something wrong with the way I look?”
Jared sat down, picked up his coffee cup, took a couple of sips, and then said, “A lot of people at the office have been talking about youtely. So you want to be famous now?”
I was <b>a </b>little surprised, but I sat down and poured myself a cup of coffee. “Are you saying I’m dressing to impress too much? This is just normal for women. There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.”
“You can wear those clothes, but not to the office. This <b>is </b>a workce, not your personal runway. Dress appropriately for work,” Jared said, his tone growing sharper.
My fingers tightened around the coffee cup as I stared at him. “You men are so funny. You want the flowers to bloom, but you won’t let them see the sun,”
Jared’s <b>eyes </b>hardened, and his handsome <b>face </b>flushed with anger.
I got pissed, too. My <b>face </b>tightened, and I turned away,pletely ignoring him.
<b>Jared </b>seemed to realize he <b>was </b>supposed to be calm and easygoing. Losing his temper like that wasn’t his style.
He held back and spoke more softly, “I’m just looking out for you. You have no idea how many guys at the office <b>are </b>eyeing you <b>up</b><b>, </b>wishing they could <b>see </b><b>what’s </b>under your clothes<b>.</b><b>” </b>
<b>I </b><b>let </b>out a hum, realizing <b>he </b><b>was </b><b>jealous</b>. What a petty man he was.
“Honey, don’t you feel proud when I look good<b>?</b><b>” </b><b>I </b>said softly, changing my approach and giving him my sweetest<b>, </b>most innocent look.
“You’re already gorgeous. No need to go out of your way,” Jared said, staring at my <b>face </b>with fascination in his eyes.
I looked him straight in the eye with <b>a </b>serious face and said, “There’s no one definition of beauty. Honestly, when I dress up, it just puts me in a better mood.
“Honey, if you don’t like seeing me at the office, I’ll just move my workspace to the Harmonia Hotel. I need to meet with the renovation designers there anyway.”
Jared’s eyes flickered for a moment, like he thought I was dodging the issue. He seemed to think I just ran away whenever he got mad, but that wasn’t the right way to solve things.
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