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Novel Catalog
Chapter 40
It was just a game of chess. What could possibly happen? What were the chances of Ivor forcing himself on her?
Knock, knock, knock. She tapped on his door.
A deep, charismatic voice echoed from within, “Come in.”
The moment Bonnie stepped through the door, a rich scent of cologne filled the air. Ivor definitely knew how to pick his fragrances—this one was high-end.
Ivor was seated in a chair, the chessboard laid out neatly in front of him. A steaming cup of tea rested beside him, the steam swirling around his sharp gaze. His features, momentarily shrouded by the mist, took on an almost ethereal allure.
“The tea master brewed this. Have a taste,” he said, his tone smooth and inviting.
Bonnie didn’t waste time with pleasantries. She picked up the cup and took a sip, her eyes narrowing slightly as she savored the flavor. “This is Mariage Frères. Brewed perfectly, too.”
Ivor raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. “How do you know it’s Mariage Frères?”
Mariage Frères was a high-end tea brand from Parisia, famous for its rare and exquisite blends. Most people hadn’t even heard of it.
Bonnie set the cup down, a casual smile gracing her lips. “Is it hard for ordinary people to tell what it is?”
“Have you tasted it before?” Ivor’s tone was curious, though there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
“I have,” she replied confidently. “I’ve tasted all kinds of teas. You could say I’ve tasted every tea imaginable.”
Ivor had once dismissed such claims as arrogance, but now he found himself hesitating. Bonnie might be young, but there was something about her that hinted at hidden depth and experience.
“How surprising,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes studying her. “You might be young, but you seem to have some experience with tea. Are you going to tell me you’re a tea master now?”
Bonnie’s expression remained unreadable. She picked up the teacup again. “You could say that. I could’ve brewed better than this.”
Ivor was taken aback. For someone to claim they could brew better tea than a professional was bold—almost laughable. Tea brewing wasn’t just about drinking; it was an art form, a skill that took years of practice.
“I employ a famous tea master, Quenton Hill. If you’re a tea master, you must have heard of him.”
“Quenton? Is he working for you?” Bonnie asked, her interest piqued.
Ivor froze for a moment, a sudden wave of confusion washing over him. Quenton Hill? The name was as prestigious as it got in the world of tea. He had spent millions securing Quenton as his personal tea master—someone whose skills were legendary.
Bonnie, however, spoke about him as if they were old friends.
“Where is he? It’s been a while since I last saw him,” she added, her tone casual, but Ivor couldn’t help but notice the excitement in her voice.
Ivor, now wary, chose not to challenge her outright. Instead, he offered a vague response. “He’s gone home,” he said coolly, hoping not to expose her.
Bonnie’s face fell, but she quickly masked it with a hint of disappointment. She really was a good actress.
Ivor couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of concern. She was lying, but the lie was so well-crafted, so believable, that it almost seemed like she believed it herself.
He couldn’t let her continue down this path. If she kept lying, someone would eventually expose her—and when that day came, it would be harsh. The embarrassment would be unbearable.
Perhaps it was time to teach her a lesson in humility.
“You said you could brew better tea than Quenton,” Ivor said, his voice taking on a playful but slightly mocking tone. “Well, I have some tea leaves here. Let’s see just how good your tea can be.”
Bonnie’s eyes gleamed with something unreadable.
“Well, then,” she said, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Shall we see?”
The game was set.