Kyle Grant noticed the subtle change in Sophia Laurent's expression. With a light tone, he said, "The Bada Shanren painting you gifted me is priceless. It's only right that I help you."

The explanation sounded perfectly reasonable.

Sophia secretly exhaled in relief.

Kyle continued, "Actually, it's not about who helps whom. Once you've mastered both painting and porcelain restoration, I'll be relying on your expertise."

His words eased her tension.

She offered a faint smile. "You're too kind, Mr. Grant."

His gaze darkened slightly. "Just call me Kyle. 'Mr. Grant' sounds too formal."

Sophia hesitated to be overly familiar.

If her possessive husband found out, there would undoubtedly be another storm.

Vincent Grandelle cleared his throat. "Sophia, examine this Twin-Phoenix Vase carefully. I'll teach you how to replicate it later."

She understood immediately—her mentor was showing off her talent again.

With a resigned sigh, she replied, "Master, I've already memorized the shape, dimensions, and patterns. I'll sketch it for you shortly."

Vincent patted her shoulder proudly, boasting to Kyle, "This apprentice of mine is a prodigy with a photographic memory. Taking her under my wing was a stroke of luck."

Sophia and Kyle exchanged an amused glance.

Vincent grew even more enthusiastic. "From now on, Sophia can handle the antiques Kyle brings for restoration."

Sophia's heart skipped a beat.

Those were priceless treasures.

After only two months of training, she wasn't confident enough.

"Master, Mr. Grant came for your reputation. It's safer if you handle them personally."

But Kyle interjected, "I trust your skills."

"But I lack experience..."

"I've seen the Five-Colored Prunus Vase you restored. It was flawless. Talent isn't measured by time."

Unable to refuse, Sophia reluctantly agreed.

Vincent cheerfully brewed his newly acquired Da Hong Pao tea.

The three sat together, savoring the drink.

Sophia quietly poured tea, occasionally joining the conversation.

Suddenly, Vincent asked, "Kyle, are you seeing anyone?"

Kyle's eyes flickered toward Sophia. "I'm single."

"A man like you, without a girlfriend?"

"My standards are high." Kyle's lips curved slightly.

Vincent laughed. "That's the spirit for a young man. I have a granddaughter, Isabella. Would you like to meet her?"

Kyle's smile faltered.

"Thank you, but I'm not considering that right now."

"What's your ideal type, then?"

Kyle lowered his gaze. "It's about chemistry, like how you chose your apprentice."

Vincent patted Sophia. "True. I felt an instant connection with this girl."

Kyle sipped his tea.

Silently, he agreed: So did I.

Attraction at first sight.

Noticing his empty cup, Sophia reached to refill it.

"I'll do it." Kyle reached for the teapot, his fingers accidentally brushing against her hand.

In that moment, he inexplicably held onto her.

Sophia jerked her hand back.

The antique teapot nearly slipped.

Kyle caught it swiftly—a cherished Republic-era piece Vincent adored.

Sophia broke into a cold sweat.

She quickly dismissed the incident.

"I should go sketch now, Master," she said, rising to leave.

That evening, Ethan Sullivan came to pick her up.

In the car, he suddenly leaned close, inhaling near her neck.

"There's another man's scent on you."

Sophia's pulse quickened.

Is this man part bloodhound?

She truthfully recounted the day's minor incident.

Ethan's eyes turned icy.

In silence, he pulled out disinfectant wipes.

He meticulously scrubbed her hand—between her fingers, under her nails—until the entire pack was used up.

Sophia let him continue.

She could sense his unease.

Gently, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.