Chapter 589 A Mature Man Knows How to Care
The young girl couldn't bring herself to say "promiscuous," a word she found too harsh for her to ever associate with Natalie.
Natalie arched an eyebrow. She hadn't paid attention to social media gossip about herself in ages. Instead, she spent her free time reading books and catching up on professional fashion industry reports, avoiding such nonsense.
"Natalie, don't be upset, those rumors got deleted!" Lilian quickly tried to comfort her.
"I'm not upset."
"Do you really not care?" Lilian asked, puzzled. "The man in the photo is Oliver, and your leg is healed... yet people are still calling you... calling you a cripple."
Natalie smiled and gently patted Lilian's head. "Lilian, you need to understand that popularity comes with controversy. Think of it this way: if people are spreading rumors about me, it means I'm still valuable in the market, I'm relevant, and that there's envy out there. I'm not a treasure that everyone will like. Some will adore me, and some will despise me. I don't dwell on the words of those irrelevant to me."
She’d faced far more vicious and damaging rumors before; this was nothing.
What didn’t kill you makes you stronger.
As long as you're fearless at heart, there's nothing to be afraid of.
Lilian pouted, clearly not pleased, but conceded with a begrudging "Alright."
She had been planning to ask her family for an advance on her allowance to buy some promotional spots for Natalie's big push.
Now, Lilian felt utterly useless.
"So when do you plan to set the record straight? To tell those people that the man is none other than Oliver and that you're still my sister-in-law?"
Natalie's thoughts were elsewhere; she contemplated the timing of her comeback at the Flora’s debut Fashion Show.
"Should be next month."
Wow—
Lilian's eyes sparkled with excitement.
Was Natalie going to remarry her cousin next month?
The next day.
Natalie slipped into a solid-colored dress with a subtle pattern—formal enough for a meeting yet casual enough for an informal setting.
"Is this okay? Or is it too casual?" Second-guessing herself right before leaving, Natalie hesitated.
Oliver, eyes drooping, lethargically replied, "It's just meeting with Richard; wear whatever."
Oliver was annoyed; Natalie had woken up early to pick out clothes for ten minutes and even put on makeup just to see Richard.
She hadn't bothered wearing makeup at all on the previous days with him!
"It can't be too casual; you have to make a good impression." Besides, that man was almost Jane's fiancé!
Natalie did one final check of her makeup and outfit, then remembered she hadn't sprayed perfume. She turned back to grab it.
"Natalie, you never wore perfume when we went out," Oliver's expression grew darker, barely suppressing the urge to snatch the perfume bottle and stop her.
"With you?" She pondered a moment, "You know, that's actually true."
Oliver huffed in dissatisfaction.
"But your case was different," Natalie reasoned with him. "We didn't start off on the best terms, and living together, it made no sense, nor was it necessary, to wear perfume. And as we got to know each other better, there was even less reason."
Looking presentable when meeting someone was a matter of courtesy, which included wearing perfume.
Did she really need to be presentable for Oliver?
If it were necessary, that ship had long sailed.
Oliver said, "I've never been on the receiving end of this treatment."
And her remark about their "not so great" relationship was particularly grating—
Even if it was the truth.
Natalie glanced at him, certain from her experience with Oliver that he wasn't thrilled.
This guy had always exuded the aura of a cool, distinguished gentleman, but in reality, he could be quite ill-tempered.
She couldn't turn back time and make things right now, could she?
"Maybe you could spray it on for me?" Natalie walked over, offering him the perfume bottle.
A smirk appeared on Oliver's face. "You want me to spritz you with perfume to meet some guy you don't even know?"
"...So, will you help me or not?" Natalie asked. "I thought you'd appreciate being involved, but never mind if you don't want to."
With an annoyed look, Oliver took the bottle and spritzed a few puffs above Natalie's head.
As the scent wafted through the air, she twirled twice beneath the mist, allowing the fragrance to settle evenly.
The mature scent Natalie had chosen was layered with opulent notes. The top consisted of saffron and rose; the heart intertwined Turkish rose with coffee; and the base was a rich blend of oud, pear tree wood, cardamom, vanilla, and amber. This perfume was playfully dubbed by netizens as "smelling expensive," embodying elegance and luxurious sophistication.
It was perfect for occasions like today.
"Aren't you young ladies into those cloyingly sweet scents?" Oliver asked, without much knowledge on perfumes. Yet his keen sense of smell picked up on the various perfumes women wore at the office and social functions. The twenty-somethings usually opted for lighter, flirtier scents.
It took Natalie a moment to realize she was the "young lady" Oliver was referring to.
At barely 22, she'd normally still be considered a college student, not yet exposed to the world, if one overlooked the fact that she'd already been married and divorced. She definitely qualified as a "young lady".
"Is Mr. Windsor acknowledging his approach to middle age?" Natalie quipped, only to see Oliver's expression turn sour.
She casually tossed the perfume back into her suitcase with a teasing smile.
But her amusement was short-lived.
Turning around, Natalie saw Oliver had stepped closer to her.
Startled, she instinctively stepped back, her ankle hitting the suitcase, tipping her balance backward.
The next moment, her waist was caught in a strong, enveloping embrace.
With one arm around Natalie's waist, Oliver gave a reassuring squeeze and said, "Miss Watson, have you ever heard a saying?"
"What... what saying?" Natalie attempted to evade the closeness, feeling their bodies press against each other. The intimacy set off alarms in her head.
Oliver, with a finger under her chin, drew near to her face and murmured in a low voice, "Older men... they know how to cherish you."
"No, no, you heard wrong," she blurted out in a rush, a hint of panic in her voice. "I was just talking nonsense. You're not old; you haven't even hit thirty."
"Am I not racing towards thirty?" he teased.
"Thirty is the golden age," Natalie corrected herself without hesitation.
Oliver stood firm, unyielding as granite. Nervous, Natalie licked her lips and pushed against his chest.
"Let go of me," she insisted.
Oliver looked into her eyes for a solid two seconds, making sure she was steady, before releasing her.
Natalie stepped aside, her ears beginning to feel the burn of embarrassment.
Oliver said nothing, simply watched her in silence, waiting to see how she would react.
"Oliver," Natalie took a deep breath, "I think we need to find a time to talk."
One of his eyebrows quirked up slightly. "Sure."
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