In the middle of the conversation, someone rang the doorbell.

Marion had not been expecting a delivery, nor any visitors. The children were home, and that alone made her cautious. She placed the dress she had been folding onto the basket and stepped out of the laundry room, only for Melisha to dart ahead on her tiny feet and reach the door first.

By the time Marion arrived, the girl had already pulled it open.

Cixi had followed Marion out and stopped just behind her.

A massive man dressed in a pitch-black suit stood squarely on the welcome mat. His dark eyes scanned past Melisha, landing squarely on Marion.

Marion stepped up and gripped the heavy edge of the wooden door, pulling the young girl behind her legs to establish a protective barrier, and frowned at the stranger. "Yes?"

"This is for your family, madam." The man extended a paper bag, and the warm scent of pastries drifted out at once.

"I did not order that," Marion refused, keeping her hands firmly locked at her sides.

"We know," the man replied. His cold facial expression did not shift a single millimetre. "It is a gift from our boss."

Marion snapped her head around, glancing over her shoulder at Cixi.

Cixi stared back with the exact same blank, confused expression plastered across her face.

Then the man added calmly, "It is from Cassian Crown. The boss said Madam forgot to eat dessert after lunch."

Both Cixi and Marion widened their eyes in absolute, visceral horror.

"What the f—" Cixi started aggressively, but she instantly clamped her jaw shut. She looked straight down at Melisha, who was actively stretching her tiny neck to peek excitedly between the man and the bag, which smelled like a bakery bag.

Instead of finishing the loud curse, Cixi directed her deadly glare back at the man standing securely in the sharp suit. "Tell your boss we do not need it."

"The Boss stated you would say exactly that," the man replied smoothly, entirely unfazed. He lazily pulled the bag back toward his chest. "He strictly demanded I throw it directly into the nearest garbage can if you refused."

Cixi was now sure Cassian knew how to take advantage of her moral values.

Marion gasped and snatched the bag from his hand so fast it was almost violent. "Thank you!" she said quickly.

The man ignored Marion completely. He executed a deep, formal bow strictly directed at Cixi, turned sharply on his heel, and stalked away down the long apartment corridor.

Marion pushed the door shut before twisting the metal deadbolt. She turned around to face Cixi, flashing a highly sheepish, guilty smile and forcefully pushed the next words out in a tight whisper through her teeth. "The kids are watching!" She tilted her head towards the other two, who had now wandered near the entrance and were staring with eager eyes.

Cixi immediately schooled her expression and smiled.

"Look, kids," Marion announced cheerfully, raising her volume to sound impossibly sweet. "Aunt Cixi ordered us an entire packed box of fresh treats from the famous Cafe!"

The children’s faces lit up so brightly it was as though someone had scattered diamonds beneath sunlight.

Cixi silently followed Marion into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Cixi took out plates and began placing a small sweet treat on each one while Marion hovered nearby with the look of a woman whose mind was racing far faster than her hands.

After a moment, Marion leaned in.

"Do you know what this means?"

Cixi kept her eyes on the pastries. "That he has too much money and poor boundaries?"

Marion made a face. "No. It means he is keeping an eye on you. Which means he knows you had lunch with Officer Bill." She lowered her voice dramatically. "And if this isn’t possessiveness already..." She trailed off, suddenly remembering the cat story. Then, with exaggerated caution, she finished, "I... think he probably likes you."

Cixi set the plate down for the kids and took one plate for herself. Both Marion and Cixi walked back to the laundry room. This time, they chose to talk in the laundry room rather than in the bathroom.

"All right. Hypothetically, let’s say he does like me. How on earth do I forcibly make him say out loud that he loves me?"

Marion stared at her as though she had just asked how to rob a bank politely. "You are being very demanding, Cixi."

"I am being efficient!"

Marion snorted. "No, you are trying to skip half the book and run straight to the confession Chapter. First, you actively need to go on an actual, physical date together. Then you need to casually bond physically for some time. And then, you initiate steamy intercourse."

Cixi nearly dropped the fork in her hand and turned to her. "What?"

"Do not look at me with incredibly wide-eyed like that. You should perfectly know exactly how the male biological drive operates," Marion logically explained bluntly. "You practically exist on the internet. Did you not once hear of intense relationship podcasts formally teaching you the basic mechanics of leverage? During sex, the male brain is completely flushed with pure dopamine. You can literally make a helpless man firmly agree to absolutely anything while you have him pinned to the mattress and riding his manhood."

Cixi felt a rush of embarrassment. Her audacious friend clearly knew she had no experience, yet she was speaking so brazenly in front of her, urging her to sleep with Cassian.

She felt a flutter in her stomach. "That is your grand wisdom?" Cixi asked flatly. "Seduce him until he blurts out a confession?"

"Why not?" Marion retorted defiantly, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "I’m confused about whether you want to make him fall in love with you, or if your goal is to get him to confess that he loves you, which doesn’t seem to have anything to do with your feelings for Cassian. To me, it sounds more like the second option!" Marion raised an eyebrow, casting a questioning glance.

Clearing her throat, schooling her expression, Cixi replied. "Both! And shouldn’t I make him know I am hard to get?"

Marion started folding another cloth. "Listen to me carefully. First, stop acting as though you are preparing for an exam. You do not make a man love you by solving him like mathematics."

Cixi narrowed her eyes. "Then what do I do?"

"You make him feel different when he is with you. Men remember the woman who makes them feel different. The one who makes them feel strong without worshipping them and safe without boring them." Marion took that as encouragement and continued boldly. "Also, you need to flirt."

Cixi looked personally offended. "I did flirt with him."

Marion let out a scandalised laugh. "No, sweetheart. You stare at Cassian as though you are about to either kiss him or accuse him of murder. That is not flirting. That is emotional confusion."

Cixi’s eyes intensely widened.

"Number one, look at him like you know something he doesn’t."

"That sounds annoying."

"It is alluring when done by a pretty woman."

Cixi rolled her eyes.

"Number two," Marion went on, "do not throw yourself at him. Men like the chase, especially men like that. Give him warmth, then pull back. Make him wonder."

"I thought you didn’t know up until now how to make a man fall in love."

"I have read many books on the subject." Marion defended herself.

"And yet you said it didn’t work on Martin."

"Well, because I am good at bed, that’s why it worked. Need to experiment on them to see what works better. Additionally, I wasn’t sure if you truly wanted to be with a Mafia man. So..." She didn’t complete the sentence, but Cixi understood.

Cixi said nothing more and was ready to listen more.

"Number three, praise him, but not obviously. Don’t say, ’Oh, Cassian, you are so handsome.’ He probably hears that from women with no self-respect."

Cixi arched an eyebrow. "He is handsome, though." Cixi looked a little confused. "Then what do I say?"

Marion thought for a moment, then answered, "Say something that strokes his ego without sounding desperate. Something like..." She lowered her tone and placed a hand on her chest in theatrical imitation. "You always look as though the room belongs to you. It is irritating."

Cixi stared, then muttered, "That actually sounds like something I would say."

"Exactly," Marion said smugly. "You insult him a little, admire him a little, confuse him a lot."

Marion’s grin widened when she saw it. "Number four, touch. A hand on his arm. Straightening his collar. Brushing lint off his coat that may or may not exist. Small things. Innocent things."

Cixi stared at her as though she had grown another head.

"And number five," Marion added, pointing once more, "you need to create special shared moments and repeat them until they become a habit for him. Men tend to become attached to experiences that feel intimate and personal."