Page 449 of Hate Mates

Ah, the first step toward becoming the perfect wife—demonstrating her tea-pouring skills. I have to press my lips together to stop the smile threatening to break free. Yua, serving anyone, will be a memory I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.

The fathers leave with Mrs. Okuda, and Takashi gestures for Yua to sit. As soon as she settles into her seat, I quietly move to the corner behind her, ready to do my own mental commentary about the absurd exchange to come. But instead of sitting besideher, as I expected, Takashi takes the chair across from her—directly in my line of vision.

I look up, and when I meet his gaze and catch the faintly snarky smile tugging at his lips, I narrow my eyes at him. His smile widens, full of mischief.

“So, tell me, Ms. Okuda—what do you enjoy doing?” His voice is polite, but there’s a deliberate edge to his tone.

“Please, call me Yua, Takashi,” she says, her tone soft, polished, and sweet.

He straightens in his chair. “I’d rather we stay formal for now, if you don’t mind.”

Okay. I didn’t see that one coming.

“Ah, well, yes, of course,” Yua stammers, her composure faltering for just a moment.

I can’t even imagine how much she must be boiling inside. Yua isn’t one to be disregarded or told off like that, not even politely.

Takashi leans back in his chair, crossing his legs as he waits for her to answer. His patience only seems to rattle her further.

“I love to read and study languages,” she says finally, her tone overly sweet again. “I am also keen on learning how to cook and take care of my home and my husband.”

“Is that right?” Takashi replies, raising a brow. His words are neutral, but I swear I hear a hint of skepticism.

God, she’s full of shit.

For the next thirty minutes, I endure Yua’s cloying sweetness and Takashi’s polite disinterest. It’s a performance, both of them playing their parts.

But he glances at me often, and each time, I feel it. His gaze is too intense, his smile too knowing. A man like that isn’t just trouble—he is the kind of trouble that leaves scars.

When he finally stands and excuses himself, I feel a strange, inexplicable loss as he strides from the room.

As soon as the door closes, Yua’s demure act shatters. “How dare he look at me like I’m barely an option!” she fumes. “He’s not even that good-looking.”

Oh, Yua. You have no idea how wrong you are.

That man isn’t just good-looking—he’s more than that. He’s the kind of handsome that makes your breath hitch before you can stop yourself. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and a face that looks like it was carved in stone, all strength and precision. His dark eyes are intelligent, but there’s something predatory lurking in them like he sees everything and is just deciding whether it’s worth his attention. His black hair is neatly styled, but there’s a subtle disobedience to it, a strand or two rebelliously slipping loose.

And then there’s the way he moves—graceful, confident, like he owns the room just by standing in it. Even when he’s perfectly polite, there’s a quiet intensity to him, a silent power that demands you notice.

I hate to admit it, but Yua doesn’t stand a chance. That man wouldn’t waste a second on her. And even worse, I’m starting to worry he did waste a second on me.

“Can you believe it?” Yua’s voice cuts through my thoughts, shrill with indignation. “He didn’t even sit beside me! And then to walk out like that—it’s so rude!”

“Terribly rude,” I murmur, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

Yua narrows her eyes at me but is too caught up in her own tantrum to respond. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and storms toward the door, muttering about needing to “Fix everything” before tomorrow night. I stand there for a moment, the corners of my mouth twitching as I watch her leave.

Because as much as I hate to admit it, this was the first time I’d seen Yua completely undone—and Takashi Nishimura had accomplished it in less than an hour.

Later, as I leave the estate, a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.

“Ena, funny meeting you here.”

I whirl around to find Takashi leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets and a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Do you enjoy doing that?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“Doing what?” His brow arches, amused.

---