Chapter 18: Suspicious
"I told you before," Sienna replied, setting her glass down. "I work at the Imperial Hotel."
"I meant... which department?"
"Front Office," she said. "I’m a manager."
Zachary leaned back slightly, studying her. "I know a thing or two about hotel management. So, I know the front office department is more important than you think."
"Yeah, I know. I was kidding. I’ve been busy up to my neck lately." Sienna admitted lightly. "Especially this week. We have a big event coming up, so things are... a little chaotic."
"You don’t seem stressed."
"Oh, that’s just on the surface, and I never let anyone see me stress," she said, taking a sip of her lemonade. "I just think looking stressed and complaining won’t do any good."
Zachary let out a quiet breath, something close to amusement.
’Interesting.’ He wonders.
He could feel there was no effort in her words. No attempt to impress. No need to prove anything.
She spoke as if everything—her job, her position, even him—was simply... part of life.
"May I ask how old you are?"
"Sure. Twenty-six," she answered easily. "Why do you want to know?"
Zachary faintly smiled. "You look younger but more mature than the average person of your age."
"That’s because I am naturally gifted," she said without hesitation.
He almost smiles. "Confident."
"Realistic," she corrected. "There’s a difference."
Zachary studied her again. "But, seriously, you’re quite young to be a manager."
"I’m also quite smart," she replied calmly.
This time, he didn’t hide his faint smile. "I can see that."
Sienna tilted her head, amused. "Alright, you know more about me. Now, your turn. How old are you, Zach?"
Zachary didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he reached for his glass of water, taking a small sip before setting it down again.
"I’m old," he said.
Sienna frowned slightly. "...That’s not an answer."
He lowers his gaze to his glass and responds, "Well, I’m really old—"
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Suspicious."
Zach didn’t explain.
And surprisingly, she didn’t push. Instead, she leaned back, letting the topic go.
After a brief silence, he asked again, "Do you like working there?"
Sienna paused. For the first time since they started talking, she didn’t answer immediately.
Her fingers lightly traced the rim of her glass, her gaze dropping for a brief second before lifting again.
"...Most of the time," she said.
Zach noticed it. That small hesitation.
"It’s stable," Sienna continued after a brief pause, her fingers loosely wrapped around her glass. "That’s enough for now."
Her tone was calm, almost casual, as if she had long accepted that stability was the best kind of happiness she could afford.
There was no complaint in her voice, no hidden bitterness, just a quiet acceptance that felt heavier than any dramatic confession.
Zachary did not respond immediately. His gaze lingered on her a little longer than before, studying the way she leaned back in her seat, relaxed on the surface but guarded in ways that were harder to notice.
There was something about her. As if she had learned, through experience, not to expect too much from life. Or perhaps... she once had, and something had taken that away.
The thought settled quietly in Zachary’s mind, stirring a curiosity he did not bother to hide from himself.
But before he could ask anything further, a waiter arrived with their main dishes, placing the plates neatly on the table between them.
The moment broke, as if reality gently reminded them that this was just dinner...nothing more, nothing complicated.
"Perfect timing," Sienna said lightly, straightening up as she picked up her fork. "I was starting to think my stomach would file a complaint."
Zachary let out a faint breath that almost resembled a laugh. "That would be troublesome."
"It would," she agreed seriously, though the corner of her lips lifted slightly. "I take food matters very seriously."
The conversation shifted naturally after that, drifting into safer territory.
Sienna talked about the Imperial Hotel: long working hours, demanding guests, and last-minute changes that could ruin an entire day.
She spoke about it with ease, even humor, as if the stress had already become part of her routine.
"There was this one guest," she said, shaking her head slightly, "who insisted his pillow was ’emotionally uncomfortable.’"
Zachary paused mid-bite, glancing at her. "Emotionally... uncomfortable?"
"Yes," she nodded, completely serious. "Apparently, it didn’t ’support his dreams.’"
There was a brief silence.
"That’s unfortunate," Zachary said calmly, though there was a faint glint in his eyes.
"I know, right?" Sienna replied, sighing. "We offered him five different pillows. Memory foam, feather, or even some kind of herbal pillow that smells like a garden. But no... none of them supported his dreams."
"And what happened?"
"We upgraded his room," she said flatly. "Apparently, his dreams improved with a better view."
Zachary leaned back slightly, exhaling a quiet breath of amusement. "That sounds expensive."
"It was," she said, then took a bite of her food. "But cheaper than listening to him complain all night."
For a while, the conversation continued like that—light, easy, and unexpectedly comfortable.
Nothing too personal, nothing too deep. Just two people sharing small stories over a simple meal.
And yet, Zachary didn’t find it boring. If anything, it was... refreshing and intriguing.
Sienna eventually finished her drink and set the glass down, her fingers brushing lightly against the table as she looked at him again, curiosity returning to her eyes.
"What about you?" she asked.
Zachary’s hand paused slightly before it reached his glass. His gaze lifted to meet hers.
"Where do you work, Zach?"
The question was simple. But for him, it was anything but.
For a brief moment, he said nothing. His fingers tapped lightly against the side of his glass, a quiet, almost unconscious movement.
He watched her as she waited. She looked calm, patient, with no sign that she expected anything unusual from his answer.
It had been a long time since someone had asked him that question without already knowing the truth.
Zachary exhaled slowly, his expression settling back into its usual calm.
"I work for my family," he said.
It was the safest answer he could give.
Sienna nodded as if that made perfect sense. "Ah... family business?"
"Yes. Something like that."
She tilted her head slightly, her attention shifting back to her dessert as she picked up her fork. "Which sector?"