Mirabe gave Jenna’s shoulder a hearty pat and dered with a swagger, “Let’s roll. I’m feeling generous today I’m treating you to lunch.”


    Jenna followed Mirabe out of the school and into a cab, where Mirabe promptly gave the driver an


    address.


    They arrived at the restaurant, and as Jenna got out of the cab and saw the establishment’s sign, her legs turned to lead. She instinctively reached out to clutch Mirabe’s arm.


    Feeling the tug. Mirabe turned with a quizzical lift of her arched brows. “What’s up?”


    Jenna offered a sheepish grin. “Mira, this ce is members–only, and you usually need a reservation. You… do have a reservation, right?”


    “Nope.” Mirabe tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and amidst Jenna’s look of impending doom, her lips curled into a captivating smile. “I can get in by just showing my face.”


    Jenna was bbergasted. That was just… shamelessly bold.


    As Mirabe stepped through the entrance, the restaurant manager, who had been sternly addressing a staff member at the cash register, caught sight of his boss‘ daughter. His serious demeanor softened into a benign, friendly smile, and he approached Mirabe withposed grace. “Ah Miss… you’ve arrived,” the manager nodded in greeting.


    Mirabe was about to inquire about a table when the manager spoke up again. “We’ve reserved your usual booth and private room. Would you prefer to dine downstairs or in the upstairs private room?”


    Mirabe eyed the manager suspiciously–it almost sounded like he knew she’d be dining there today. She nced at Jenna, probing, “Where would you like to sit?”


    Still a bit dazed, Jenna stuttered, “Uh, anywhere’s fine, really. I have no preference.”


    After a brief consideration, Mirabe decided, “Let’s take the upstairs room then.”


    “Certainly, please follow me,” the manager gestured respectfully, leading the way.


    Once settled in the private room, with coffee served and orders ced, the manager excused himself.


    Mirabe gracefully lifted the coffee pot, pouring the steaming liquid into Jenna’s cup, bringing her back to reality. “Mira, this ce…”


    Mirabe lifted her cup, took a delicate sip, and cut in, “Don’t ask. Just know this face opens doors.”


    Jenna could only nod and resign herself to enjoy the free meal quietly. Whyin when you could dine


    on someone else’s dime?


    Being the restaurant owner’s daughter had its perks–the kitchen served their food with remarkable speed, and in less than twenty minutes, their table was full.


    Jenna took out her phone and snapped pictures of the spread, posting them to her timeline. She had wanted to sneak a picture of Mirabe as well, but as she raised her phone, she was busted before the lens could even focus, leaving her with just a shot of Mirabe’s hand resting on the table.


    As soon as she posted the image, likes andments flooded in. Remarkably, it wasn’t the food that drew the most attention but the artistic shot of Mirabe’s hand–slender and elegantly boned.


    09:48


    Chewing her food, Jenna scrolled through thements, clicking her tongue in admiration. “Big shots like you eclipse even the finest food,” she mused.


    Mirabe, who usually abstained from her phone during meals, nced at Jenna and shook her head, choosing not toment.


    After replying to thestment, Jenna was about to close her social app when a notification appeared–an alert from her cousin, who had liked her post.


    Not just a like, but he had also left ament. “Nice hand.”


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