You Hit My Heart by Kylie Stanford

Chapter 1939: I Want to Work for You

Joyce arrived at a Western restaurant and chose a cozy seat by the window.

"Don't you want a private room?" Clint suddenly asked, looking around with a clear sense of discomfort. His identity was noble, and he had never dined in the main hall before. He preferred a quiet environment and couldn't tolerate dining with others around.

Joyce looked around and noticed that the seat she chose was quite secluded. In theory, it would be difficult for others to notice them there.

"Are you worried about safety? Alright then, I'll get a private room," she said.

Joyce found Munin's request reasonable. After all, he didn't know who might be after him now. Perhaps the person who wanted to harm him had already arrived in Khebury, so it was better to be cautious. She stood up and said to the waiter, "Please get us a private room."

However, the waiter apologized, saying, "I'm sorry, but all the private rooms are fully booked at this time. This is the most secluded seat we have."

Joyce frowned and asked, tilting her head, "What if we make do with this seat?"

Clint reluctantly agreed, "Fine."

But he still couldn't hide his discomfort.

The waiter handed them two menus and said, "As a gesture of apology, we'll offer you two glasses of our signature red wine."

"No need, I don't drink," Clint declined directly.

Joyce glanced at him and thought to herself that he had a heart condition, so it was normal for him not to drink.

In reality, Clint's reason was different. He thought the complimentary wine was too low-grade. Normally, he only drank red wine from specific wineries. Anything below Lafite level was not worth his attention. "You can choose whatever you want to eat. Order for yourself," Joyce said, extending her hand, indicating Clint to make his selection.

Clint glanced over the menu and casually ordered four or five dishes, including appetizers, starters, main courses, and desserts. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Joyce paid attention to what

be quite familiar with Western cuisine

I just ordered based on my instincts. I don't remember what food I like or dislike,

curiously asked because Luther had also experienced temporary memory loss before, losing some

Clint shook his head.

phones, and language literacy seem fine," he shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It's fine like this. Forgetting who I am allows me to forget the things I need to go through. Perhaps they

too much.

the waiter brought

came the appetizers and starters, followed by the

lobster, king crab, deep-sea abalone slices, and caviar truffle, a seafood gourmet dish with a hint of yellow mustard seasoning. It was accompanied by a small portion

be good. It was completely different from

are the hardest

his oversight. He had disguised himself as a citizen of Country W, but he had forgotten to conceal his preferences

the plate with his knife, pretending to be nonchalant as he speared a piece of

picture looked nice, and

a vague and evasive response. Joyce didn't say anything

send Munin back to the apartment, and then attend to some business so she could go home earlier. Anderson and Alisha were waiting

finished eating long before him, she looked up and saw him still

from his posture to his

some extent, it

not innate; it must be cultivated over

perplexity. She sensed that the man in front of her seemed to

felt her

and asked, "What's