Chapter 195: One's Watching, One's Rooting
Yvette had to admit, even after meeting tons of stunning men in showbiz, none of them possessed the effortless class and cool confidence this guy carried. It wasn't something you could fake.
At that moment, Sienna picked up her cup of tea and lifted it slightly toward Fraser. Her tone was sweet and polite. “Mr. Graham, thanks again for helping me get those files on Mason’s illegal activities. I figured tonight was a good time to say it properly.”
Fraser raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking lazily to the tea. He didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he drummed his fingers on the table with a casual air. “Someone’s already thanked me. And besides… I wasn’t doing it for you.”
That landed with a thud. Sienna’s hand froze in the air, still holding the tea awkwardly.
Summer nudged him with her elbow under the table, sending him a silent “cut it out.”
“Sienna, he’s always like that. Don’t take it personally.”
Sienna gave a tight little smile, then slowly lowered her cup back to the table.
Yvette, used to reading the room from her time in showbiz, jumped in with a grin. “That’s what counts as a thank-you? Hmm. If I’m planning a Cranford-style art film this year and hoping for an Oscar nomination, think Mr. Graham might help—for Summer’s sake?”
Summer bit her lip. “Yvette!”
Yvette laughed. “What? So protective already?”
Fraser didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either. His gaze drifted lazily toward Summer, soft and full of something deeper. His voice came slow and easy. “Depends on her.”
Translation? If Summer said yes, it was already done. And clearly, he was only doing this for her.
Everyone in the industry knew a Cranford-style art film was usually reserved for seasoned legends with decades of critical acclaim. Yvette, despite being a household name from romantic dramas, wouldn’t normally even make it past the door. She’d just been joking around earlier—half-teasing, half-testing. But now, it looked like her offhand joke might actually turn into a real offer.
She looked at Fraser again, this time with more attention. Even the richest guy wouldn’t throw favors around like this unless he had real feelings for the girl. No guy’s that dumb.
With that, Yvette felt a genuine warmth bubble up for Summer. Her smile turned brighter, this time completely sincere. “Mr. Graham, you’re something else. I’ll raise a glass to that. I’m drinking mine first—no pressure on you.”
The server came by now and then to top off their tea or refill their wine glasses.
Fraser lounged back in his chair, looking completely at ease. He barely touched his own plate, more focused on serving Summer. He picked up the crab tool from the table, his long fingers skillfully working through the chilled king crab claws, the way he handled it—smooth, precise, almost graceful. Piece by piece, he filled a small porcelain plate with soft, sweet crab, then casually set it down in front of Summer like it was second nature.
Sienna glanced at the plate without meaning to; her gaze unreadable, then she looked away just as quickly.
But Fraser… Fraser had that presence. That quiet, untouchable class. The more she thought about it, the more bitter it felt.
Summer leaned forward and started eating the crab Fraser had placed on her plate. It had to be freshly flown in—the texture was buttery, tender, and absolutely delicious. She was fully in the moment, savoring every bite.
Fraser’s voice cut in, deep and easygoing. “Relax. No one’s gonna take it from you.”
Summer looked up at him. “I’m not rushing.”
Fraser grabbed a napkin and, without thinking twice, reached over and gently wiped the corner of her mouth. “How old are you again?”
That little gesture—like she was a kid—made Summer’s ears turn pink. She glanced around and caught Yvette wiggling her brows with a teasing grin.
Summer quickly took the napkin from him. “I—I’ve got it.”
Out of nowhere, Sienna stood up, her voice a little stiff. “Excuse me. I’m going to the restroom.”
The VIP dining room was tucked away at the end of a long hallway in The Imperial Orchid. After stepping out of the restroom, Sienna walked slowly, her mind weighed down with thoughts. Then she spotted him—not far from the private room—leaning against the wall outside, smoking.
Fraser stood there with one hand casually in his pocket, tall and sharp in the soft glow of the restaurant lights. A cigarette rested between the fingers of his other hand. He looked completely at ease, but still impossible to ignore. Under the chandelier’s warm shimmer, his profile stood out—strong lines, a jaw that could cut glass. He didn’t need to do anything to command the space. Even the servers walking by kept sneaking second glances.
Sienna had planned to go straight into the room, but when she reached the door, her steps faltered. She turned and slowly walked toward him instead.
“Mr. Graham.”
Fraser turned slightly at the sound of her voice. His look was cool, unreadable. “What is it?”
Sienna swallowed hard and took a breath to steady herself. “The file on Mason—it meant a lot. I know you only helped because of Summer, but I still wanted to thank you properly.”