Love Me Back (Amelia and Daniel) novel Chapter 361

Amelia’s eyes widened in shock. When she turned and saw Daniel, she nearly bristled with frustration. What was he doing, slipping his arm around her waist in front of all these people? Was he out of his mind?

Daniel, unfazed by her glare, smoothly stepped between her and Robert, flashing a charming, cultured smile. “What’s got you two chatting so happily? Mind letting me in on the conversation?”

Amelia clenched her jaw, biting back a retort. With so many people around, she kept her voice low. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Daniel gave her a mock-reproachful look. “Come on, we’ve only been married a few years—it hasn’t even been seven! You’re bored of me already? Is our love really that fragile?”

Every word was a landmine. Amelia darted a panicked glance around, relieved to see no one was paying attention.

She kept her voice barely above a whisper, but her tone was icy. “Say one more ridiculous thing, and I’ll throw you out right now.”

Daniel chuckled, his voice soft and playful. “Alright, alright. Whatever you say. I’m always on my best behavior for you.”

Amelia had half a mind to throw her glass of red wine in his face.

Robert, watching the verbal sparring, cleared his throat. “Amelia, the director said the commissioner is over there. We should go say hello.”

Amelia didn’t hesitate—she left Daniel standing and walked off.

By the time they reached the director and the commissioner, introductions had already begun. The commissioner, a man with graying hair and a warm handshake, smiled kindly. “Young people with talent and courage—keep it up. There’s a bright future ahead.”

The director, clearly hoping to give them a leg up, made sure they mingled and left a good impression. Amelia spoke with confidence and poise, earning several compliments from the commissioner.

Just as the conversation was going well, someone bumped into Amelia. Instinctively, she steadied herself, but her raised hand accidentally knocked into a waiter’s tray. The commissioner stood to her right; as the tray tipped, every single champagne flute toppled, most of the sparkling wine drenching Amelia’s dress, and some splashing onto the commissioner’s crisp uniform.

The waiter stammered out apologies, face pale with anxiety. The commissioner’s expression soured.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! Someone bumped me too, I swear,” the poor waiter nearly sobbed, pointing toward a distant figure. Whoever it was, the real culprit seemed blissfully unaware, striding away without a backward glance. Amelia watched the woman’s retreating silhouette, her eyes darkening.

There was nothing to be done—accidents happened, and it wasn’t the waiter’s fault. Losing her temper would only make her look bad. The commissioner waved it off, dabbing at his wine-soaked uniform, but his mood clearly hadn’t improved.

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