Chapter 2: An Invitation to the Whitaker World

I thought that was the end of my story with that guy, but I never expected his family background to be so insane. And honestly, why would anything in my life ever be simple?

That day, my dad called me home after, like, ten missed calls. Not gonna lie, I didn’t think it was because he missed me. Ever since he remarried, our father-daughter relationship had been tense. Fragile, even. I always felt like my presence just messed up their perfect little family. Why would he want to see me?

Sure enough, the night I got home, his hired makeup artist spent half the evening fixing me up. With my stepsister eyeing me like I was some kind of zoo exhibit, I sat in the car with Dad, feeling like a prop.

The car stopped in front of a mansion—seriously, a mansion. It was a huge party, the kind of place people like us had no business even thinking about. I turned to leave, but Dad stopped me: “Autumn, don’t go! Just come with me, okay? Maybe we’ll land a big contract for the company.”

The wind was biting that night, and I shivered, pulling my coat tighter. “Dad, look at this place—our little company doesn’t belong here. And why’d you drop so much cash on this dress for me?”

“We’ll get in, we’ll get in!” Dad whipped out a gold-edged invitation like it was a winning lottery ticket. “I thought the same thing—how could we get invited? But I checked, and it’s legit! Maybe they sent it by mistake, but it’s a great opportunity! Please come with me, I’m too nervous to go alone.”

“Why not take your wife or her daughter? There are plenty of people at home, why drag me back?”

Dad stood in front of me, blocking the wind, his voice going all awkward-dad soft: “But… they’re nervous too. And you’re the prettiest one in the family, you’ve got real presence.”

The wind messed up his freshly styled hair. I knew he was just playing the pity card—he’d always been good at that. Still, I sighed and linked my arm through his. “Fine, let’s go show those shareholders who look down on you what we’re made of.”

As soon as we walked into the foyer, Dad instantly transformed—gone was the pitiful look, replaced by the confident air of a businessman. He fit right in. When people asked about me, I stood by his side, smiling politely as he introduced me like I was a trophy. I almost wanted to roll my eyes at myself.

Suddenly, the mood shifted. The chatter faded, and everyone’s gaze drifted upstairs. I followed their eyes and immediately spotted the most striking person in the room.

I froze, blurting out, “That guy… looks just like the cold, hot guy I clung to when I was drunk!”

No way I could be wrong—it was him. I’d only ever seen one guy that good-looking.

Dad thought I was talking about him and leaned over to whisper, “That’s the Whitakers’ most impressive son. He’s won a bunch of international awards, but apparently, he’s a little standoffish—doesn’t care what anyone thinks.”

“How do these kids get so good-looking? He’s almost as good-looking as you.” Dad threw in, trying for a joke, but it just made me snort.

I barely heard a word Dad said, except for: “He’s the Whitakers’ most impressive son.”

I’d heard of Julian Whitaker—everyone said he was cold as ice. But how could someone like that take care of a drunken mess like me? I shook my head. Guess the rumors were wrong. Still, his face really did look a little distant.

Upstairs, Julian stood tall and lean, his profile sharp and striking. Just standing there, he gave off an air of being untouchable. Surrounded by people, he wore a polite smile, but his eyes were somewhere else, like no matter how lively things got, he was tuned into a different channel.

Suddenly, Julian seemed to sense something and looked straight in my direction. Our eyes met, and I immediately looked away, cheeks burning. His gaze was dark but piercingly clear. I felt totally exposed, like he could see every embarrassing thought I’d ever had. Maybe I imagined it, but I swear, when our eyes met, the corners of his mouth actually lifted a little.

Maybe it was fate, or just the universe having a laugh at my expense, but later during the party, Julian and his mother ended up sitting at our table. My stomach did a full Olympic somersault.

Dad could barely contain his excitement. Half the people at this party were here just to get in good with the Whitaker family. At this point, Dad might as well have "seize the opportunity" tattooed on his forehead, elbowing me under the table to see if I’d make a move.

I kept my head down, nibbling on cheese and crackers, not daring to speak. But the problem was, I kept feeling Julian’s gaze drifting over to us. I could see his eyes growing more intense. Oh God, he was sitting right across from me! Please, please, don’t out me as that drunken lunatic from the other night!

Suddenly, a graceful hand placed a plate of cake in front of me.

I looked up, surprised—it was Mrs. Whitaker, sliding her dessert over for me.

I stared at her, stunned. She smiled kindly: “I saw you eyeing it, and I was worried you couldn’t reach it from where you’re sitting.”

Everyone at the table shot us looks. They seemed just as shocked as I was by Mrs. Whitaker’s gesture.

Flustered, I managed a quick, “Thank you.” But inside, I was confused. Wasn’t Mrs. Whitaker supposed to be super strict and intimidating? This didn’t match the rumors at all!

Dad was even more overwhelmed than I was. If I hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve stood up to thank her a hundred times. “Mrs. Whitaker, you’re too kind. This girl’s always snacking at our office, she loves to eat.”

Wow, could he be any more obvious? As if people didn’t know we were from Carter & Co. I wanted to slide under the table.

Mrs. Whitaker acted surprised: “So you’re the Carter family’s daughter! I heard you study game design at NYU. Coincidentally, my son Julian, though he’s in finance, has recently taken an interest in that field. Would you be willing to tutor him? He doesn’t live on campus and is free most days. You two are only two years apart—you should get along.”

I nearly choked on my cake. Tutor Julian? This guy is a genius at everything—what could I possibly teach him? I was about to decline when Dad, practically vibrating with excitement, pressed my hand down on the table: “She’s free! My Autumn was born to teach. She’s loved playing teacher since she was little. It’d be such an honor for her to work with your son.”

Julian, who’d been quietly watching me, silently pushed his cake toward me. My gaze fell on his slender fingers. He raised his glass to Dad, ignoring everyone’s shocked stares, then set it down lightly, looking at me. “Thank you in advance, Autumn.”

He was usually so aloof, but in that moment, he was gentle enough to make it hard to look away. Maybe it was the way he said my name, but a shiver ran up my spine.

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

After the party, Carter & Co. became the talk of the town. For the first time, we’d broken into high society and gained the favor of the Whitaker family. Suddenly, tons of companies wanted to work with us, and Carter & Co., which usually struggled to get deals, was thriving.

Dad was so grateful, he practically put me on a pedestal, terrified I’d refuse to tutor Julian. Of course I’d go—the pay was great, and I was job-hunting anyway. Only an idiot would turn down a ready-made gig like that.

Still, being called “Autumn” by a guy like him did something weird to my heart. But he was Julian Whitaker—I’d never dare think too much. Even so, the night before my first day at the Whitaker house, his voice kept echoing in my mind, to the point where I had a dream I couldn’t even describe.

The next morning, my face was burning. God, he’s younger than me—I am not interested in younger guys! Why did I keep thinking about this?

My eyes landed on the men’s jacket by my bed, and Julian’s face flashed through my mind again. Ugh. I shook my head hard. This was the real problem—I had to give it back. Must be the stress getting to me, making me dream weird things.