Halfway through her food, Angela already dreaded to go home. It didn't take her long to realize how obnoxious Paul, her date, was. For the past thirty minutes, he had been trying to impress her nonstop in ways that she never found pleasant at all.

He wasn't a weird one like her date yesterday who started singing "He's Got The Whole World in His Hands" and bobbing his head. Angela didn't mind the religious song at all, but the fact that her date was singing it while slicing through his steak in the middle of their dinner date was just the creepiest thing ever. Until now, she had a hard time forgetting about it that the memory still haunted her.

Compared to last night's date, Paul looked normal when he didn't speak. But the moment he opens his mouth and begins spouting irritating stuff, Angela just wanted to stitch his mouth shut using a giant needle and a barbed wire as thread.

She exhaled a small sigh of frustration. Meeting the perfect man was impossible, and she knew that already as soon as she started going on dates. On paper, her dates looked presentable—they were all good-looking, had impressive educational background, and came from wealthy families. However, that was all there was to it—they only looked good on paper. She hadn't met anyone whom she wanted to go on another date with.

In fact, before her dates, she did basic research about the men—not too extensive but enough to give her a heads up if there was a need. Sometimes, they appear to be how she thought they would be while the others would surprise her, but nothing interesting enough to make her look at them twice.

Well… Maybe that wasn't entirely true. There was Vincent whom she thought wasn't bad at all after she got to know him at the end of the evening. And there was another one from a few weeks ago who didn't have weird or creepy habits, but he was actually gay—he only had to get his father off his back, so he agreed to go on a date with Angela. That was about it. Her luck sucked.

"Do you ever plan to work in the family business?" Paul annoyingly interrupted her train of thoughts.

"No, not really." She didn't bother hiding the truth, and she certainly didn't have plans to impress him either.

"What do you do all day then?" he probed.

A question that he should have already asked the first time if he wasn't so busy talking about himself all night. Angela started to get bored, but she kept her face neutral and hoped tonight would end faster. She couldn't wait to get home and crawl up on her bed so she could wake up to a new day.

"I mostly just stay at home," she answered.

"That's good." He nodded, looking satisfied with her answer for some reason, and then he added, "I want my wife to just stay at home anyway. You know, cook food and take care of the house and kids."

Angela's hand that was holding a fork with meat paused mid-air upon hearing his statement. She looked up and saw him nonchalantly eat his food, not even realizing what he just blurted. "I don't know how to cook." Her voice was stern, yet the other did not notice the change in her mood.

From time to time, he glanced at his phone on the table—another reason that she found incredibly impolite. "Well, I like my meals ready when I get home. That's okay. You can learn. I'll hire a chef who will teach you all the dishes that you need to know," he responded without looking up from his plate.

What the actual retard? She lowered her hand and rested them on the table. Angela officially lost her appetite. Was he looking for a wife or a personal chef?

"Do you have helpers at home?" she questioned.

"Of course. I don't have time for house chores. It's better to let someone do it, don't you think so? It's a waste of time, really. Besides, I'm mostly outside…" Paul continued to yap about stuff that she honestly didn't give a rat's ass about.

Deciding to lengthen her patience, she ignored what just happened and put up an imaginary white noise in her mind just to keep herself calm.

It worked for a few minutes, but it wasn't until she felt a leg brush her leg under the table that she snapped out of her safe bubble. Angela pretended not to notice it and shifted her foot to the side. However, this repulsive man seemed to mistaken her avoidance as foreplay that he ignored and slid his foot towards her, his leg still brushing against hers.

Did he think she enjoyed playing footsies with him?! Oh, hell no—

Just when she was about to give him a piece of her mind, the sound of a harshly dragged chair caught her attention. She looked to her left just in time to see Gael taking a seat very close to her with the chair he moved just now. He wore the same outfit from this afternoon when she met him at the cafe. Her eyes widened in surprise to see him there and her shoulders subconsciously raised when his arm went around her and rested at her chair's backrest.

"What are you doing?" she muttered in confusion as she gaped at his side profile. He didn't even glance at her and kept his hawk-like stare fixated at her date.

A crooked grin flashed on Gael's face as he said, "You should leave."

"Excuse me? Who the hell are you?" Paul straightened his back, his eyes darting between Angela and Gael.

"It's best if you don't ask—for your safety," Gael replied, his voice smooth and calm, just like his overall persona. He emanated this dark aura masked by his coolness, yet it was apparent to her how he was trying to control his temper.

"Man, you're interrupting my date. If you don't leave, I'll call sec—"

"This date's a bust," Gael cut the other off, not feeling the least bit threatened. "Find someone else. She snores when she sleeps." He nodded his head sideways towards Angela.

"What—I do not snore!" she exclaimed. She couldn't believe the nerve of this man next to her.

Paul threw his utensils onto the table, it clattered onto the plate. His brows were knitted as he looked at the pair before him, and then a look of ridicule formed on his face. "You two together? Interesting. You don't look like you were seeing someone when you flirted with me all night..."

Angela shifted her gaze towards her date and scoffed. "Excuse me? I don't remember doing so."

"Oh, come on. I know girls like you… pretending to be hard to get… Ah…" Paul's smile widened as he stared at Angela. "Now, I remember where I have seen you before. It's you, isn't it? My, oh my… What a treat. Who would have thought I'd be meeting—"

Angela slammed her hand on the table, causing the nearby people to look their way as she said, "If you don't leave this instant, Mr. Rousch, I swear to God I'll tell your father all about your trips to Mexico. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Paul Rousch's face was filled with surprise. His jaw ticked, and his eyes turned dark at her threat. Then he wordlessly threw the table napkin onto the table, along with two hundred bucks before he left the restaurant without looking back.

As soon as he was out of sight, Gael blew a low whistle and casually leaned back, his arm still protectively stayed around her. He turned to the right and met Angela's furious gaze, but he didn't cower.

He brushed his thumb against her exposed shoulder, his voice gentle as he spoke, "We need to talk, Angel…"