Chapter 806: Would You Be My Boyfriend?

Susan hurried through breakfast and headed to work. Her alarm was usually perfectly timed, but the trip from Hannah's took longer than usual, making her almost late. She’d somehow developed a strong aversion to tardiness.

She squeezed onto an elevator just as its doors were closing. Inside, she froze. Manuel was already there. He often arrived early, a fact she found peculiar. Maintaining a composed demeanor, she greeted him, "Good morning, Mr. Johnson."

"Good morning," he replied, nodding curtly and keeping his distance—treating her with the same professional respect he afforded everyone else. An awkward silence descended.

Susan stared at the elevator's display, her nervousness intensifying in the confined space. Her heart pounded. She vowed to take a different elevator next time, fearing a potential heart attack.

"Haven't you eaten yet?" Manuel asked, glancing at her breakfast.

"No," Susan replied. She usually bought breakfast on the go. "What about you?" she asked, immediately regretting her question. He was so disciplined; he surely had already eaten, perhaps after a morning workout.

"Me neither," he answered.

Susan stared, incredulous.

"I woke up late and didn't have time," Manuel explained.

"Right," Susan nodded. Then, hesitantly, "Do you want some?" Again, immediate regret followed. It was a meat-stuffed bun from a street vendor— hardly suitable fare for his refined tastes. Unlike him, she preferred street food to fancy restaurants; she loved late-night kebabs and beer.

"Great," Manuel said.

Her eyes widened. He actually wanted her breakfast?

"If it's not enough, forget it," he added calmly.

"No, it's okay," Susan quickly offered the bun. "I just worried you wouldn't like it."

"But what about you?" he asked.

"I'm not hungry," Susan smiled. "Besides, you're my boss. Unspoken workplace rules, right?"

Manuel smiled. She knew nothing about such rules, of course.

The elevator doors opened. Manuel exited first, her breakfast in hand. Susan breathed a sigh of relief, only to realize her own empty stomach. Skipping breakfast was torture, but it was too late now. She immersed herself in work.

A knock. "Ms. Phillips."

"Come in."

Her secretary entered, carrying a delicate cake and warm milk. "Your breakfast."

"You got this for me?" Susan exclaimed. No wonder some men had affairs with their secretaries; she wanted to hug hers.

"No, it's from the president's office. Mr. Johnson," the secretary clarified.

Manuel? He'd gotten her breakfast? Perhaps as thanks for hers. Her heart raced. Hannah's advice to "give it a try" echoed in her mind. Should she? He was being kind. Her heart pounded; she felt a panic attack coming on.

Susan stood abruptly. The secretary, startled as she placed the breakfast on the desk, asked, "Ms. Phillips?"

"Leave it," Susan said, fleeing the office.

The secretary watched her go, thinking Susan was reckless. She didn't know how much the president did for her behind the scenes. She was lucky.

Susan burst into Manuel's office. She had to speak now, or never. Without knocking, she threw open the door, then froze.

A woman sat on the sofa, Manuel beside her, eating the very bun Susan had given him. They were chatting and laughing. Silence fell as they all looked at each other.

The woman put down the bun, wiped her fingers, and stood, smiling sweetly. "Ms. Phillips, I'm Clara Stern. We've met."

Susan frowned; she didn't remember her.

"My father had dinner with you once. I arrived later. You might not remember, you were a bit tipsy."

Then she knew. Clara Stern, Stephen Stern's daughter from City Hall. She had met her. But what was she doing here?

Clara explained, "I graduated and initially planned to work at City Hall, but I prefer more dynamic work. My father called Manuel, and I'm starting here today."

"Is that so?" Susan managed. A presidential welcome on her first day.

"Nice to meet you. Please offer advice if you can," Clara said politely, extending her hand.

Susan shook it. "Don't ask me for advice; I'm a bad example. Ask the president; he's good at everything."

"I'll work hard," Clara replied enthusiastically.

"I won't bother you, then," Susan said, turning to leave.

"Susan," Manuel stopped her. "Is something wrong?"

What could she say? Ask him to be her boyfriend? Was that even possible now?