Relanie waited patiently hoping to hear a crack in his composure. Or any sign that her words had hit a nerve in him.

"You wanted her to hate me," he said, ignoring her insults with cold indifference.

Her hand tightened more firmly around the phone. But the moment she opened her mouth to speak again, he cut in once more.

"Congratulations," he whispered, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "She does."

Relanie’s brows raised a little. That was the only reaction she could manage before the call disconnected.

Slowly, she lowered the phone from her ear, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Her eyes had turned so red they looked almost feverish.

Then suddenly, as though she couldn’t control herself anymore, a sharp scream tore from her throat. She raised the phone in her hand and hurled it forward violently.

The expensive device slammed against the marble wall with a loud crack before crashing onto the floor.

Reine, who had been working quietly inside the study immediately stepped out at the noise. Her usually calm expression paled as her eyes moved from Relanie... to the remains of the phone against the wall... then to the faint scuff marks left behind by the two other phones Relanie had destroyed earlier that week.

"This is the third phone this week Relanie," she said quietly, her voice flat. "Control yourself before this habit starts becoming embarrassing."

But Relanie did not even seem to hear her. She was still breathing heavily, her shoulders trembling with fury.

"I swear on everything I’ve built," she finally whispered locking eyes with Reine, "I will claw those eyes right out of her face. I’ll make sure that by the time I’m done with her, the name Elara Veyne won’t be found on a billboard... it’ll be found in a gutter."

She slammed her palm hard against the table in front of her.

"She wants to be a star right?" she hissed. "Fine. I swear I’ll make sure she burns so bright the whole world watches her turn into nothing but ash in the end."

Reine stared at her quietly, a strange look passing through her eyes. Then without another word, she turned and walked back into the study. She picked up the telephone and typed in a string of familiar numbers.

"It’s Reine," she muttered tiredly when the line connected. "Yes. Another one. Same model. Same color. Just send the courier to the back entrance."

She paused listening to the bored voice from the other end.

"No," she sighed while glancing toward Relanie’s trembling figure outside the study. "Don’t bother with the charger. We still have plenty left over from earlier this week..."

* * * *

Harris cleared his throat as he stared at the lady sitting across from him. Her knuckles rested under her chin while she watched him with a calm unreadable gaze.

He coughed awkwardly again.

"Hope you’re comfortable. The chair... is it okay? If not, I can have the manager replace it immediately."

The young nurse kept staring at him, one brow raised a bit, her expression completely blank.

Harris’ lips pursed when he got no reaction. Then suddenly, his eyes lit up as his gaze landed on the cutlery beside the empty plates.

He grinned and quickly picked them up arranging them according to their height. "I don’t know much about science, so I’m not challenging you," he said. "But do you know if you hit this fork against a crystal glass, it makes almost the same sound as the Code Blue alarm at your hospital? Listen."

He tapped the glass gently with the cutlery.

A sharp ringing sound echoed through the restaurant making more than half the people there turn toward them with strange expressions.

The nurse’s eyes twitched in embarrassment, an annoyed sigh escaping her lips.

"Mr. Harris," she finally muttered, her voice as cold as ice, "if you don’t tell me why I’m here in the next ten seconds, I am walking out that door and blocking your number immediately."

Harris froze, the spoon still in his hand like an evidence from a crime scene.

Definitely not.

He had suffered far too much to finally get her to agree to dinner. There was no way he was ruining this chance.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat again. "I was just trying to make this moment a memorable night."

The nurse let out a short disbelieving laugh. Then she began counting on her fingers while listing every single thing he had done wrong since they sat down.

"Memorable?" she scoffed. "We’ve been here for more than forty minutes and you haven’t even opened the menu. Instead, you’ve spent the whole time..."

She raised one finger.

"One. Asking the waiter to drink from my water first to prove it wasn’t tampered with."

A second finger lifted.

"Two. Asking for my blood type, my mother’s maiden name, and my shoe size before even asking what I wanted to eat."

A third finger followed immediately.

"Three. For the first ten minutes after I arrived, you didn’t even look at me properly. You were staring at the reflection in the table knife to monitor who was walking behind you."

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "And now you’re playing the hospital alarm with a restaurant cutlery."

Harris opened his mouth instantly in self defense.

"You know in my world, asking someone’s blood type is actually a very reasonable question. I mean... what if we’re having a beautiful moment staring into each other’s eyes, and suddenly you need a blood transfusion? I’d want to know if I could donate mine."

The nurse let out a long tired sigh at his words. She dropped her head into her palms and clutched her hair tightly.

"Mr. Harris," she groaned into her hands. Then she slowly looked up at him with utter disbelief written across her face. "How can you even say something like that? We aren’t even at the stage of holding hands and you’re already talking about sharing blood. Normal men ask if I have siblings or a cat, not whether our veins are compatible."