Julian was about to lose his mind.

How the hell had the dress ended up with Samuel?

Could he pretend he didn't know anything about it?

Julian stood rooted to the spot, his face burning hot. Just being looked at by Samuel made humiliation crawl over his skin. It felt like an invisible hand was pressing down on his chest, squeezing so tightly he couldn't breathe no matter how hard he tried.

He was definitely going to get yelled at.

Maybe laughed at.

Maybe Samuel would think he was some kind of pervert.

"I'm sorry" was already on the tip of his tongue when Samuel casually set the dress aside as though nothing had happened and said, "Let's go."

…That was it?

He wasn't going to mention it?

Thank God.

Julian let out a shaky breath and hurried after him with the dress in his arms.

"My bad," Luke said as he walked him to the door with a grin. "Didn't realize the package was yours. Opened it by accident. Cute dress, though. For your girlfriend?"

Girlfriend.

So that was a normal person's first reaction to seeing a guy buy a dress.

Julian didn't actually have a girlfriend, but he still nodded softly. "Yeah."

Luke seemed to mistake his awkwardness for nerves about the business trip and immediately reassured him, "Relax. Samuel just looks intimidating. He's actually pretty easygoing."

Julian forced an awkward smile.

"Lemme tell you a secret." Luke leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "If Samuel ever tears you apart, just cry in front of him. The harder you cry, the better."

"…Seriously?" Julian stared at him. "That actually works?"

"Nope," Luke said calmly. "But it'll make you feel better."

Julian: "…"

Luke's advice somehow made him even more nervous.

Honestly, Julian didn't understand it either. He was introverted, sure, but not socially anxious. After four years of college, he could handle workplace communication just fine.

All his previous internships had gone smoothly.

But for some reason, every time he was around Samuel, fear crept into his bones. Some instinct deep inside him just wanted to run.

Like now.

There were only the two of them in the car to the airport. Even with the armrest separating them, Julian could still feel the pressure radiating off Samuel.

The atmosphere inside the car was suffocating.

Julian stared at his knees, fingers clenched tightly into fists.

Samuel took several phone calls in a row. None of them sounded good. By the time the last call ended, his expression had visibly darkened.

Rain slammed violently against the windows outside. The tension inside the car only thickened.

Julian hesitated before asking carefully, "Samuel… is there anything I can do?"

The car rolled beneath an overpass and stopped at a red light. The concrete overhead blocked out the sound of the rain, making Julian's soft voice unusually clear.

Samuel glanced at him.

The kid seemed afraid of him. His voice trembled slightly, yet he still forced himself to speak.

Quiet. Obedient. Brave.

Like he'd do anything Samuel asked of him.

"There isn't," Samuel replied.

"Oh." Julian nodded, unable to tell whether he felt relieved or disappointed.

He was just an intern. In a situation like this, there really wasn't much he could do.

Still, since he'd come on this trip, he didn't want to stay completely clueless. So he pulled out the project materials and started reading.

The train carriage was noisy, but Julian tuned everything out quickly. Page after page, he sank into total concentration.

Julian had grown up with his grandparents in a rural town. There had barely been any kids his age around.

No friends. No television either.

Books had been his only company, and he could spend entire days reading without noticing the time.

Maybe that was why he'd always excelled academically. He'd gone from an ordinary middle school to an elite high school, then into one of the country's top universities.

Joining Apex Capital had been a carefully considered decision. The pay was excellent, the work matched his major, and he genuinely believed he couldn't find a better job anywhere else.

At least, that was what he'd thought before working under Samuel.

Now he found himself becoming more and more uncertain.

These days, investment banks loved hybrid talent—people with finance backgrounds plus expertise in fields like biotech, AI, and smart vehicles.

Julian only had a bachelor's degree. Most of the management trainees hired alongside him had master's degrees, PhDs, or prestigious overseas academic backgrounds.

The pressure weighed on him constantly.

He barely allowed himself a second to relax.

He studied the materials for Synapse AI carefully, but the AI concepts were too specialized. No matter how much research he did, half of it still felt impossible to understand.

Anxiety slowly turned into helplessness.

And that helplessness only intensified after they arrived in Boston.

Samuel didn't bring him into the meeting with Synapse AI's executives.

Julian had expected it, of course. But when he was actually left waiting outside the conference room, disappointment still hit harder than he'd anticipated.

After what felt like forever, he finally heard footsteps and a door opening nearby.

Was the meeting over?

Julian immediately stood up. "Boss, you—"

Several middle-aged men walked out behind Samuel, clearly company executives. Julian instinctively swallowed the rest of his sentence.

Samuel glanced at him expressionlessly. "We're leaving."

Julian nodded quickly and hurried after him.

He desperately wanted to know how the negotiations had gone, but Samuel said nothing except that there was another dinner meeting tonight.

That only made Julian spiral further.

Maybe other interns weren't like this, but Julian couldn't escape the feeling. Too much work stressed him out—but when his boss gave him nothing to do, he became even more uneasy.

He needed assignments. Needed acknowledgment. Needed proof that he had value here.

"Can you drink?" Samuel suddenly asked on the way to the restaurant.

Julian instinctively shook his head. "Not really."

Samuel nodded and said nothing else.

Julian immediately regretted his answer. "But I can learn," he added quickly.

Samuel lowered his gaze toward him, looking like he was about to say something, but his phone rang first.

"Yeah, I'm in Boston right now," Samuel answered. The moment the call connected, his entire demeanor shifted. He sounded restrained in a way Julian had never heard before. "Thank you, but I can handle it. You don't need to step in, Grandpa."

The call was short.

But afterward, something about Samuel felt different.

Julian unconsciously softened his footsteps. Even his breathing became careful.

Samuel glanced at him again. "You don't have to."

Julian froze before realizing Samuel was answering his earlier comment.

He'd said he could learn to drink.

Samuel had said he didn't need to.

Julian wanted to say more, but the moment he looked at Samuel's face, he swallowed the words again.

His boss was clearly in a terrible mood.

Definitely not the right time.

Besides, Julian couldn't even imagine Samuel smiling through drinks and flattering clients at dinner tables. Someone like Samuel should've been untouchable—brilliant, arrogant, impossible to bend.

The atmosphere at dinner wasn't exactly pleasant, but Samuel had invited Dr. Carter, director of the Boston Quantum Information Center, whose research team was exactly the kind of partner Synapse AI desperately wanted.

Judging from the conversation at the table, things finally seemed to be turning around.

Even so, Samuel drank a lot.

Several times, Julian lifted his own glass, wanting to step in for him, but he could never find the right moment.

Only when the conversation drifted from work into casual chatter and the servers started bringing out the main dishes did Julian realize the dinner was nearly over.

He stood to go pay the bill when a Synapse AI employee suddenly approached with a drink.

"You're Julian, right?" the man said with a smile. "Young and talented. Come on, let me toast you."

Julian hesitated for two seconds before pouring himself a drink.

But before he could take a sip, a shadow suddenly fell over him.

Samuel took the glass from his hand and shifted slightly in front of him. "The kid can't drink," he said coolly. "I'll drink with Mr. Whitman."

Warm fingertips brushed against Julian's hand for barely a second.

Still, Julian froze completely.

Kid…

Samuel had stepped in for him.

And called him kid.

Heat exploded across Julian's face. Embarrassment tangled together with something overwhelming and impossible to describe.

He opened his mouth to protest, but Samuel had already finished another drink with Mr. Whitman.

Then Samuel turned and shoved a bank card into Julian's hand. "Go pay the bill."

Samuel's body heat surrounded him like a furnace. His tall frame blocked out the light like a wall.

Dizzy from the closeness alone, Julian stumbled out of the private room clutching the card.

After paying the absurd bill, he stood waiting for the receipt and glanced around absentmindedly.

Across the street was a convenience store.

Five minutes later, Julian returned to the room with his suit pockets bulging suspiciously.

Mr. Whitman was still pestering Samuel to drink, even calling over two of his subordinates to join.

Samuel sat there holding his glass. He'd clearly had far too much to drink already, yet his posture remained perfectly straight, without the slightest trace of drunkenness.

The restaurant lights cast deep shadows beneath his brow bone, making his expression impossible to read.

One of Whitman's associates clinked glasses with Samuel.

Samuel lazily lifted his eyes and raised his drink with a tired sort of coldness.

Was he feeling sick?

The thought flashed through Julian's mind, but Samuel immediately tilted his head back and swallowed another mouthful.

Julian hated drinking culture.

But watching Samuel sit there enduring all of it stirred something complicated inside him.

Samuel's alcohol tolerance actually wasn't that great. After this many drinks, even his thoughts had started slowing down.

Mr. Whitman was related to an executive at another investment bank. During bidding season, he'd practically salivated over this project. He'd finally convinced the company to hand it away—only for Samuel to win it back.

Losing such a major project had clearly made him determined to make Samuel miserable.

Samuel could've refused the drinks.

The project was already secured.

But winning the bid was only the beginning. IPO processes were long, exhausting, and heavily dependent on cooperation from company executives. If Samuel failed to smooth things over now, the team would run into endless problems later.

Samuel finished another drink.

Mr. Whitman immediately filled his glass again.

The liquor reflected the overhead lights in silver ripples.

Samuel lifted the glass—

And suddenly, a trembling hand appeared in front of him and took it away.

Samuel looked up, genuinely startled for once.

Julian stood there stiff as a board, nerves written all over his face. He looked deeply uncomfortable in this environment, every movement awkward and unnatural, but he still forced himself to say:

"Mr. Whitman… I'll drink with you instead."

Samuel reached out to take the glass back.

Julian tipped his head back and downed it in one swallow.

The liquor burned down his throat like fire.

His entire chest felt scorched.

He didn't need a mirror to know his face was probably crimson.

Who the hell said whiskey tasted good?This stuff was awful.

Julian slammed the empty glass down, poured himself another drink, and said steadily, "Mr. Whitman, here's to you. We'll be relying on your support moving forward."

Mr. Whitman's smile twitched awkwardly. "Of course. We'll cooperate fully. Apex Capital's team has worked hard too."

Julian lowered his glass respectfully and clinked it against the other man's.

But the second he pulled back, Samuel took the drink from him again.

Julian tried to speak, but Samuel simply set the glass aside and said coldly, "That's enough. We're done here."

Mr. Whitman frowned and immediately poured Julian another glass. "I like this kid. One more round."

Samuel ignored him completely and turned to Dr. Carter instead. "Dr. Carter, it's already ten. If you get home any later, your wife's going to worry."

"It's that late already?" Dr. Carter checked the time in surprise. "Alright, alright. We should head out."

"I'll walk you out," Samuel said.

"No need." Dr. Carter waved him away. "One of my students is driving me. You go handle your own business."

People gradually filtered out until only Julian and Samuel remained inside the room.

Only then did Samuel finally show signs of exhaustion.

He leaned sideways against the doorframe, posture loosened for once. The usual icy arrogance had faded, replaced by something unexpectedly human.

Julian checked the room one final time to make sure nothing had been left behind before heading for the door.

His head felt light. His steps wobbled.

He walked like a drunk little duck.

"Thought you said you couldn't drink."

Samuel's deep voice suddenly sounded behind him.

Julian took several seconds to realize Samuel was talking to him.

"I told you," he answered stubbornly, "I could learn."

Samuel looked at him quietly.

Julian thought he was about to say something, but Samuel only looked away and said, "Let's go."

Julian hurried after him.

Only when something heavy dragged down his pocket did he remember what he'd bought earlier.

He pulled out a bottle of milk and handed it over. "Drink some. It'll help your stomach."

Samuel glanced at it. "Where'd you get this?"

"At the convenience store when I paid the bill," Julian explained softly. "You drank a lot tonight. Warm milk might help."

Samuel took the bottle, twisted the cap open—

Then handed it back.

Julian blinked in confusion.

Before he could react, Samuel lifted the bottle straight to his lips.

"Mmph—"

Julian was caught completely off guard, mouth instantly filled. He swallowed too late, and warm milk spilled from the corner of his lips, sliding beneath his collar.

"Wipe it off."

A handkerchief appeared in front of him.

Flustered, Julian took it quickly.

The silk was unbelievably soft against his skin—so soft it almost felt like fingers brushing over him.

Every nerve where he'd been touched suddenly became hypersensitive.

And as he breathed, he could smell the faint woody scent lingering on the handkerchief.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

But Julian could feel his face burning all over again.

He lowered his head and clutched the handkerchief tightly, suddenly thinking that maybe Samuel Frost wasn't as cold-hearted as he'd first believed.