Chapter 17 Falling in Love is Hard For Anyone

Eleanor brought Nora back to the office, and as soon as they stepped out of the elevator, they ran into Vincent on his way out.

As they brushed past each other, Vincent smiled and said, "Manager Duan called me, Eleanor. You're doing great."

The elevator doors closed.

Nora couldn't help but frown, "Eleanor, why does Director Thompson sound so... off?"

"You're overthinking it." Eleanor wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they walked toward their workspace, but as she glanced back at the descending elevator numbers, the smile on her face began to set like ice, and she quickly averted her gaze.

It's said that women have an intuition about these things.

From Vincent's very first day, Eleanor sensed something odd in her demeanor toward her.

However, it wasn't as Vincent claimed, simply because Eleanor was the stepdaughter of Uncle Quinn.

It was an elusive hostility, an enmity with unclear origins.

At dusk, Grayson came to pick up Eleanor from work in his car.

Grayson was a low-key figure in the sports world, not widely known, and his appearance alone, reminiscent of a character out of a comic strip, leaning casually against his luxury car, drew countless glances.

"There you are, flaunting your looks!" Eleanor teased him.

Grayson laughed, his smile as confident as ever, and opened the back door of the car. "Take a seat back here; the passenger seat's taken."

"Oh." Eleanor recalled his mention of inviting a teammate from their fencing club to dinner.

Indeed, there was a man in the passenger seat.

Judging by his silhouette, he seemed quite tall, leaner than Grayson, with a black mask concealing half his face, and wisps of hair falling over his forehead.

The man turned slightly, nodding politely, "Hello there."

"Hi." Eleanor's mind raced—his voice sounded strangely familiar.

"Come on, wearing a mask in my car? People might think I'm running some top-secret operation here," Grayson quipped as he buckled up, unable to resist the tease.

The man removed his mask, and with the reveal of his profile, Eleanor had a flash of recognition—it was him.

"Do you know me?" he caught Eleanor's gaze.

Realizing her manners, Eleanor replied politely, "I've seen your matches."

Edward Harris, an Olympic fencing champion and former national team member, retired now, sticking around as a mentor to the younger athletes.

Eleanor's recognition came from an interview she’d seen on TV after one of his matches; no wonder his voice seemed familiar.

With a sly chuckle, Grayson interjected, "She's had this thing for Olympic champions since she was young, practically worships them. On that note, I guess I'll have to snag an Olympic gold medal myself so she can salute it."

"When you bring home that gold, I'll cheer for you like no one else," Eleanor shot back, the two of them playfully bantering, oblivious to the third party.
"Thanks, pal!" Grayson handed Eleanor a candy, knowing her tendency for low blood sugar and providing a much-needed energy boost.

Edward chuckled, to which Eleanor shot Grayson a glare. The notion of her worshipping a champion like she was some sort of fanatic – what kind of talk was that to spread around?

Did they think she was some silly, infatuated girl?

The dinner was set at an exclusive restaurant nestled on Mid-Mountain Road, a scenic spot by the hills and the water, so high-end that not all the money in the world would guarantee a reservation.

The prestigious Ji family, influential and powerful, had made a request. When Grayson decided to dine, the owner had everything prepared bright and early, offering specialties typically reserved for athletes.

"Big bro, you go ahead. Eleanor and I will park the car," said Edward as he stepped out of the vehicle.

While reversing the car, Grayson asked, "So, what do you think?"

"Think about what?"

"Don't play dumb with me. I'm talking about your first impression of Edward."

"He's handsome and upright, a true talent chosen by the National Team," Eleanor replied seriously.

Grayson rolled his eyes silently, "Could you be any more noncommittal?"

Eleanor met his gaze squarely, "Let's put it this way, I respect him for the honor he’s brought our country. Can you really fall in love with someone you just respect?"

Grayson was speechless, "It's not that you can't fall for someone you respect; it's that you can't seem to fall for anyone at all unless it's that one person."

Eleanor, with the look of someone who'd been caught out, stopped talking and followed Grayson into the private dining room.

Everyone had arrived – aside from Edward, there were four of Grayson's teammates.

Eleanor greeted them all in turn, and one of the boys, a sweet-talking seventeen-year-old, even called her "sister."

Blushing, Eleanor caught Grayson giggling beside her, "I had thought about introducing him to you."

"He's underage, thanks but no thanks!" Eleanor glared with gritted teeth.

"Now you see why Edward's the better choice," Grayson teased, though he had actually intended to introduce Edward to her from the start, last night's exchange being all in jest.

Edward gestured for Eleanor to take a seat, and with a polite smile, she complied – not without stealthily stepping on Grayson's foot.

Athletes don't drink, especially fencers, as alcohol could agitate the cardiovascular system, affecting their precision and control.

With the world championship just over a month away, alcohol was strictly off-limits.

Even without wine, the mood around the table was lively. Grayson was popular, his teammates easily joked with him, and Eleanor laughed along, enjoying the buzz of the company.
Seventeen-year-old Grayson had just shared an embarrassing story, wheezing with laughter. Eleanor, with her ever so low threshold for humor, was doubled over the table, shaking with mirth, completely oblivious to her cup tilting perilously close to the edge.

"Watch it."

Suddenly, a steadying hand yanked her back just as she stumbled. Her vision blurred briefly before she found herself bumping against a solid wall of muscle, spilling her tea on the cushion where she had just been sitting.

Turning around, she found Edward gripping her arm, his presence composed, his fingers strong and secure – she almost tumbled right into his embrace.

Eleanor quickly propped herself up, creating some distance between them with a bright but roughish grin, "Thanks for that."

"No problem." Edward effortlessly assisted her with a gentlemanly hand, then quickly withdrew it.

Grayson teased, "Bro's got quick reflexes, doesn't he? I didn't even get a chance to react."

"A reputation well earned," Edward replied coolly to Grayson's ribbing, deflecting with a joke.

After dinner, Grayson and the others had to head back to base for additional training. Before departing, he left Eleanor in Edward's care.

No matter how Eleanor playfully squinted and gestured, Grayson remained unmoved. The others piled into Grayson's car and drove off, leaving only Edward's vehicle behind.

Eleanor wasn't well-acquainted with Edward, but she trusted Grayson implicitly with her life.

Grayson entrusting her to Edward was a testament to his trustworthiness and upright character.

Without any fuss, Eleanor got into his car and gave him her home address.

The car slowly began its descent down the winding mountain road.

---

Red taillights flickered and gradually disappeared around a bend as the owner of a Ferrari 488 stepped out of his car, his gaze following the departing Audi R8.

He then pulled out his phone and dialed.

The call connected to the typically indifferent response, "What's up?"

"Aaron, where are you?"

"Stuck at the company doing overtime, spit it out," came the sound of a lighter igniting.

"You'll never guess what I just saw."

A calculated silence over the phone indicated a palpable disinterest in the dramatic tease.

With a look that said he relished stirring the pot, he continued, "I spotted that 'Heavenly Fairy Hall' sister of yours."