When Two Winters Met (Henrietta and Yosef) novel Chapter 83

Seeing Henrietta already walking ahead, Calvert had no time to waste on Cheryl. He grabbed her arm. “Hurry up, Ms. Sargent is already there!”

“Ms. Sargent,” Calvert said, catching up to her respectfully. “This way, please.”

Henrietta nodded, a slight frown creasing her brow. To be met with such hostility before even meeting her date? Henrietta figured her luck wasn't great. Perhaps she was just unlucky in love.

Still, she didn't believe a word Cheryl had said. She trusted her own judgment. If Yosef were merely going through the motions for his mother Zelina’s sake, would he really be so meticulous? If he was, it could only mean he was a perfectionist. Otherwise, a man of his stature wouldn't bother with such detailed arrangements, especially not for her. In any case, she would reserve judgment until she met him.

Soon, the three of them entered a private dining room. It was spacious and luxurious. Henrietta immediately saw Yosef seated at the head of the table, his eyes on his phone.

Hearing their footsteps, he looked up.

“Mr. Nash, hello,” Henrietta said, stopping to greet him. Her expression was perfectly composed, her smile polite and graceful, betraying none of the earlier tension. It was as if the incident in the main hall had never happened.

Yosef put down his phone, stood up, and strode towards her. He was exceptionally tall. He wore a white shirt, a black tie, a black vest, and black trousers, a combination he elevated far beyond the quality of the clothes themselves. His shirt was buttoned impeccably, his sleeves were neatly rolled up, and his entire being radiated an unattainable, magnetic aura. Gold-rimmed glasses lent his handsome face a sharp, ascetic air. With his fair complexion, the man was undeniably a work of art.

His long legs carried him with a decisive, almost commanding stride, as if he were conducting an inspection. When he reached Henrietta, his gaze settled on her face. “Welcome.”

Though polite and well-mannered, he remained intensely aloof. His eyes were cool, his tone detached. He didn’t have Joaquin’s overbearing dominance, nor was there any predatory glint in his eyes. There was just a cool emptiness, an almost imperceptible distance that made him seem untouchable, yet it wasn’t off-putting.

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