The CEO's (Not So) Subtle Courtship

Lingling fidgeted with the steering wheel of her sleek black sedan, heart pounding a little harder than she cared to admit. Evening lights bathed the street in a warm glow, and a distant hum of traffic provided a low background noise. She checked the clock on her dashboard: 6:58 PM. Two minutes to seven.

Focus, Lingling, she chided herself. You've closed multi-million-dollar deals and built an empire from scratch. You can handle one evening with her. Right?

Still, her stomach fluttered as the door of Blooming Beans swung open. Orm stepped out, glancing around until she spotted the familiar car. She wore a casual outfit—jeans and a simple blouse—that still managed to look effortlessly stylish. Lingling's breath caught momentarily as she watched Orm approach with that easy grace that made her chest tighten.

Orm peered through the window, raising an eyebrow. "Well, this is a surprise," she said, opening the passenger-side door. "Last time I checked, you threatened me with 'important events' and not—" She paused, taking in Lingling's normally stoic face. "A personal pickup?"

Lingling forced a cool shrug, though her pulse threatened to betray her. "I thought it'd be more efficient if I drove."

Orm slid into the seat, suppressing a laugh. "Right. Efficiency. Of course."

Despite Lingling's best attempt at composure, something in her voice gave her away. She cleared her throat. "Are you... comfortable?"

Orm's lips twitched in amusement. "Surprisingly, yes."

Lingling faced forward, shifting the gear. "Then let's go. I have a reservation."

Orm's brows rose. "A reservation? You sure know how to keep a girl guessing."

"Trust me," Lingling murmured, pulling away from the curb. "I'm trying something new."

The drive was peppered with small talk—Orm's day at the café, Lingling's day in the boardroom—but underneath, a current of anticipation ran between them. Orm was used to Lingling's standoffish aura, but tonight there was a jittery edge to the CEO's demeanor that she found almost... endearing.

When they finally parked, Orm eyed the place in front of them: a modest, cozy restaurant with a simple wooden sign, warm lights glowing inside. Lingling was out of the car in a heartbeat, coming around to open Orm's door—a gesture that made Orm blush a little.

"What happened to the usual fancy hotels or rooftop bars?" Orm teased as they approached the entrance.

Lingling stiffened slightly, then forced herself to relax. "I thought you might prefer something more... comfortable." She paused, almost shy. "You said you like places that aren't too pretentious, right?"

Orm stared at her for a second, the corners of her mouth lifting. "You were listening to me?"

Lingling's chin rose. "Of course I was listening."

A wave of warmth spread through Orm's chest. "Thank you," she said quietly, stepping inside.

The interior was a stark contrast to Lingling's typical haunts. No shimmering chandeliers, no hushed staff in tuxedos. Instead, soft yellow lights, mismatched wooden chairs, and the sound of quiet laughter from a handful of patrons. A friendly hostess led them to a corner table, half-hidden by a tall bookshelf lined with worn cookbooks.

Lingling exhaled slowly, removing her coat. Orm settled into her seat across from Lingling, a curious smile dancing on her lips as she glanced around. "I have to say, I'm impressed. This is..." She searched for the right word. "Cozy."

Lingling nodded once. "I'm glad you approve." She fiddled with her menu, momentarily unsure how to proceed. "I, uh... read reviews. People say this place has excellent homemade pasta."

Orm watched Lingling with amusement. She recognized the tiny cracks in her frosty exterior: the tapping of a manicured nail on the menu, the quick glances her way. She's nervous, Orm realized, a flutter of fondness spreading in her chest. "Homemade pasta sounds perfect."

A waiter arrived with water and breadsticks, leaving them to peruse the menu. Lingling glared at her own menu like it was a business contract. "Any recommendations?"

Orm shrugged, scanning the options. "I might try the ravioli. They do it with fresh spinach and cheese. Or so the reviews say." She winked.

Lingling's cheeks heated slightly, but she nodded. "Ravioli, then. I'll trust your judgment."

A few miles away, in Becky's apartment, her phone buzzed. She smirked at the screen: a message from Freen.

Freen: "Any update on Operation CEO Courtship?"

Becky snorted, tapping a reply.

Becky: "She actually took Orm to some cozy bistro. Not even a Michelin-star place. Shocking, right?"

Freen: "Miracles do happen. Think we'll get a meltdown from Orm?"

Becky: "Oh, we might get a meltdown from Lingling if Orm so much as giggles at another waiter."

They both chuckled at their own conversation, thoroughly entertained by their friends' transformation from aloof barista and ice-cold CEO into a comedic romantic drama.

Back at the bistro, Orm and Lingling placed their orders. The conversation started stilted, each tossing out polite questions: "How's business?" "Any new café ideas?" Then, the waiter recognized Lingling as "that CEO in the paper," and hovered awkwardly, gushing about her business acumen.

Lingling tensed, but Orm found it hilarious. "Do you get this a lot?" Orm asked once the waiter finally left.

Lingling's lips thinned. "Too often." She paused, her face softening. "I'd prefer to remain unnoticed tonight, if possible."

Orm's eyes danced with amusement. "Unnoticed? Good luck with that. You're basically wearing confidence as a second skin."

"Am I?" Lingling gave a slight laugh, the sound almost surprising her.

"Yeah," Orm said, smiling softly. "But it's... a good look on you."

Lingling cleared her throat, not quite used to compliments. "Thanks."

When their meals arrived, Orm couldn't help but notice how Lingling kept sneaking glances her way, as if to gauge her reaction to the setting. So Orm decided to lay it out. "You know," she began, "I appreciate you picking this place. It's different from what I imagined you'd choose."

Lingling's cheeks grew warm. "I wanted to pick somewhere comfortable. For you."

Orm's chest tightened at the admission. "You... you listened," she said softly, a gentle smile curving her lips. "That's really sweet."

Lingling's bravado flared, as if she caught herself being too vulnerable. "Well, I am capable of small gestures. Don't read too much into it."

Orm chuckled, setting her fork down. "Too late. I'm reading everything into it."

A brief moment of quiet settled over them, both acknowledging the electric charge in the air. Lingling spoke first, exhaling slowly. "I guess... what I'm trying to say is that I'd like to make an effort. If you're still interested. In me," she added, somewhat awkwardly, her eyes darting away.

Orm leaned forward, her playful grin returning. "I can see that. And yeah, I'm definitely interested."

Lingling let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and a small, relieved smile graced her lips.

In a flash of comedic timing, the waiter reappeared with dessert menus, inadvertently interrupting the tender moment. "For our esteemed guest, Ms. Kwong, we'd like to offer a complimentary dessert sampler," he declared, almost too loudly.

Lingling's cheeks colored in embarrassment at the fuss, but Orm stifled a laugh. "Complimentary, huh? Wow, you do get special treatment everywhere you go," she teased Lingling under her breath.

Lingling tried to maintain her poise. "It's not always like this."

Orm smirked. "I don't mind. It's kind of fun seeing you squirm."

Lingling shot her a sharp look that melted into a grin. "Watch it, or I'll have them bring you a truckload of dessert."

"I'd like to see you try."

They shared a laugh, the tension lifting again.

After finishing their meals (and sampling far too many desserts), they left the bistro feeling pleasantly full. Outside, the cool night air surrounded them. Lingling fought the urge to shiver—whether from the chill or from the adrenaline coursing through her, she wasn't sure.

Orm glanced at her with a half-smile. "Thanks again for tonight. It was... different from what I expected."

Lingling's brow arched. "Oh? And what did you expect?"

Orm shrugged, still wearing that easy grin. "Caviar, maybe? Live orchestras? A 'closed for a private event' sign on the door?"

Lingling rolled her eyes, though her mouth quirked upward. "Don't tempt me."

They came to a stop by Lingling's car. A pregnant pause hung between them—neither quite ready to end the night, but uncertain how to push it further.

Orm cleared her throat. "So, um... do we do this again sometime? Or was that a one-off CEO courtesy?"

Lingling's heart pounded. She almost snapped into her typical aloofness but decided to be honest. "I'd like to see you again," she said quietly, her gaze firm. "If you'd like that too."

Orm's smile was radiant in the dim streetlight. "I would. Absolutely."

Across town, Becky's phone buzzed with a text from Orm, reading simply: "Dinner was amazing. She's really trying."

Becky squealed, firing off a message to Freen: "Ice Queen meltdown: confirmed. They had dinner, and Orm's on cloud nine."

Freen responded with a series of excited emojis: "Told you Lingling doesn't do half-measures. I expect a full report soon."

Becky smirked. "And I expect a wedding invite."

Lingling unlocked her car, gesturing for Orm to get in. The ride back was companionable, filled with quiet contentment. This time, Lingling didn't bother with stilted small talk. She was exhausted from all the emotional labor, but in a good way—like she'd finally started living life outside her office.

When they arrived at Orm's place, Orm lingered, one foot out the door. "Thanks again, Lingling," she said softly. "Tonight was... special."

Lingling managed a small, genuine smile. "I'm glad you think so. Good night, Orm."

Orm stepped out, leaning on the open car door. "Good night, Ling," she replied, allowing the new nickname to slip out naturally.

Lingling's cheeks warmed. She didn't correct Orm. "Good night," she whispered again, then drove away, her heart hammering all the while.

Alone on the sidewalk, Orm watched the taillights disappear, an undeniable thrill rushing through her. So it begins, she thought with a hopeful grin.