Chapter 30: A Contact Worth Saving

The table was set with barbecue ribs, sautéed pork with vegetables, chicken and wild mushroom soup, and steamed salmon. Fraser’s sleeves were still rolled up, revealing the defined veins on his forearms. As he placed the dishes down, his long fingers moved with effortless precision, elegant yet firm. Summer blinked and quickly averted her gaze. She remembered exactly how those fingers had made her tremble, how they had pulled her into an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Her face burned. She fanned herself with her hand.

“Hot?”

Summer pressed her lips together. “A little.”

Fraser moved without hesitation, reaching out to touch her face, his fingers trailing to her earlobe. Summer went completely stiff. Fraser smirked, leaning in just enough for his breath to graze her skin.

“Your ears are red, Summer. What are you thinking about? Hmm?”

As he spoke, he lightly tugged on her earlobe. A strange, tingling sensation shot down her spine. Summer jerked back, quickly dropping her head, pretending to be completely focused on the food.

“Nothing—I’m just hungry. Let’s eat.”

Fraser chuckled softly but let it go. He casually split a plate of barbecue ribs, setting half on the floor. Pudding trotted over, happily munching away, his tail wagging like crazy. Summer observed the scene.

“Pudding really loves your cooking.”

“He’s picky.”

Of course, a picky dog could only be the result of a spoiled upbringing. Summer took her seat and began eating. The atmosphere was oddly peaceful—just her, Fraser, and Pudding in the quiet villa.

She took a bite of the ribs. The rich, smoky-sweet flavor melted on her tongue, tender and juicy. She had always been confident in her own cooking, but this… this was better. No wonder Pudding loved it. She did too. Summer found herself eating more than she expected, sneaking a few glances at Fraser. This man was full of contradictions. Unlike Trevor, who carried an air of cold detachment, Fraser’s presence was different—casual, yet commanding. There was a lazy sensuality to him, a reserved elegance. Even sitting there, eating, he exuded a quiet dominance, the kind of refined confidence only someone raised in power could possess.

Dinner ended. Seeing that it was getting late, Summer prepared to leave. More than anything, she was worried Fraser would ask her to stay the night. But instead, he grabbed his coat.

“I’ll take you home.”

“My car is here. I can drive myself.”

Fraser narrowed his eyes.

“Summer, if you don’t want to go home, that’s fine too.”

Summer was speechless. In the end, Fraser still drove her back. Pudding whined, wanting to follow her, but Summer reassured him she’d visit again. Finally, the dog settled down. Thirty minutes later, Fraser’s limited-edition luxury car pulled up at Brookhaven Estates.

Just as Summer reached for the door handle, something crossed her mind.

“Fraser?”

He tapped his fingers lazily against the steering wheel, his voice teasing.

“Hmm? Miss me already?”

Summer choked on air, coughing a few times. This man was ridiculously full of himself. She composed herself before speaking.

“We… don’t have each other’s contacts yet.”

Worried he’d misunderstand, she quickly added, “I mean, since the Graham Group is investing in the Global Project, it’d be more convenient to coordinate over WhatsApp.”

Fraser raised an eyebrow. He extended his hand.

“Your phone.”

Without thinking, Summer handed it to him.

“Password?”

“My birthday.”

She reached out to take the phone back, ready to unlock it herself. But before she could, Fraser’s fingers swiftly tapped in a few digits. The screen lit up. Summer’s eyes widened. He knew her birthday? How? She stared at him in disbelief.

Fraser ignored her shock, scrolling through her WhatsApp contacts. When he saw that a certain annoying name wasn’t in her chat history, his mood lifted slightly. In a few quick taps, he saved his number and pinned the chat. His movements were smooth and decisive.

“Hey, that’s my phone.”

She grabbed it back. This was her WhatsApp—he couldn’t just go around pinning himself at the top! Greer’s tone was indifferent, like he hadn’t claimed a place in her contacts.

“It’s your phone. So you write the contact name.”

He leaned back, watching her. Summer looked down. The default profile picture was Pudding’s fluffy face. The name simply read “F.G.” She could leave it like that. But Fraser was staring at her, his dark eyes deep and unreadable.