Ford raised his hand and called the waiter over to order. He had intended to let Riley choose, but she casually handed the responsibility back to him.
"I’ll eat whatever. Anything’s fine."
Riley had her own little scheme in mind. She figured that once the dishes came out, she’d play the role of a spoiled, difficult girlfriend—picking faults with everything he ordered, complaining nonstop—until he finally found her unbearable and gave up on her himself.
Ford narrowed his dark eyes and gave her a long, unreadable look before lowering his gaze to the menu and beginning to order.
For some reason, that look made Riley feel slightly guilty. She hadn’t realized before that he could have such a sharp, intimidating gaze.
To be honest, Ford really was an outstanding man in every way. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have introduced him to Catherine in the first place.
His features were deep-set and striking, as if they’d been carefully carved by a sculptor—every angle perfectly placed. His figure, naturally, was flawless for a male model, and because of his profession, his sense of style and presence were impeccable as well. Walking down the street, he easily drew a hundred percent of the attention. On top of that, he came from a wealthy family.
Riley found herself staring at him, wondering: how on earth had such a perfect man ended up interested in her?
She felt puzzled—and suspicious. Ever since he confessed to her, she’d never quite believed it was real.
After finishing the order, Ford gracefully handed the menu back to the waiter and looked at Riley, the corner of his lips lifting into an attractive smile.
"You’ve been staring at me for ages," he said lightly. "So—after all that looking, have you fallen in love with me yet?"
Riley: "..."
She truly felt like she’d seen everything in life. Never, in all her years, had she met someone with skin this thick.
Too lazy to respond, Riley took out her phone and looked down at the screen.
She had barely unlocked it when a long, masculine hand reached out and snatched the phone away. Riley protested angrily.
"What are you doing?!"
Ford calmly slipped her phone into his trouser pocket.
"Playing on your phone during a date," he said. "Confiscated."
His tone was firm, leaving no room for negotiation. Riley was so furious she felt like she might cough up blood.
"Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to take my phone?"
She raised her hand and pointed toward the other diners nearby.
"Look around—who isn’t on their phone?"
And she wasn’t wrong. In modern life, people clung to their phones everywhere—while eating, waiting for food, riding the bus or subway. Any moment that allowed for it, phones were glued to their hands.
At the surrounding tables, aside from those already eating, anyone waiting for their food was staring at a screen. Even people mid-meal would take a few bites, then glance at their phones. Heads down everywhere—classic phone addicts.
Ford, however, set his face into a stern expression.
"I don’t care about anyone else," he said. "But when it’s just the two of us, phones are not allowed."
Ford himself wasn’t particularly attached to his phone. And when he was with Riley, he had even less interest in it. All he wanted was to spend time with her properly—so of course he was going to ban phones altogether.
Riley was so annoyed by his domineering behavior that she spread her hands helplessly.
"Okay, then what are we supposed to do? Stare at each other?"
Besides, when they’d gone out to eat back when they were just friends, she’d played on her phone too. He hadn’t said a word then—so why was he controlling her now?
What she didn’t know was that back then, she was just his friend. Now it was different. Now she was his girlfriend. He not only had the right to care—he had to.
As for her remark about staring at each other, Ford’s response was to rest his arm on the table and look straight at her, his gaze intense and unflinching.
"I don’t mind at all."
His eyes were already deep and captivating, and now they held an undisguised, powerful affection. Riley felt her face slowly heat up. Damn it—she was actually blushing under his gaze!
She quickly turned her head away, letting out a soft snort.
"Boring. Childish."
Her faintly flushed, fair cheeks fell into Ford’s dark, attentive eyes, and an almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips.
Ford knew her personality well—she was bold and straightforward, not easily embarrassed by anything. The fact that she couldn’t meet his eyes now meant one thing: she didn’t feel nothing for him.
If she truly saw him as just one of the guys, how could she possibly blush from being looked at?
Not long after, the dishes Ford had ordered were served. Riley finally found her chance to act.
This dish was too spicy—her stomach couldn’t handle it. That one was too sweet—did he want her to get fat? She was a model, after all. Was he trying to sabotage her?
She nitpicked every dish, finding fault with everything, acting spoiled and overly demanding.
As she put on her little performance, Ford simply leaned back with his arms crossed, watching her calmly and without the slightest change in expression.
In the end, Riley was the one who couldn’t keep it up anymore—because every punch she threw felt like it landed on cotton.
She had clearly intended to nitpick him into losing his mind—but in the end, the one who nearly broke down was her.
Seeing that she had finally quieted down, Ford picked up a pair of chopsticks from the side and handed them to her, casually commenting on her performance just now.
"With acting like that, I’d only give you thirty points," he said. "No wonder you’ve never made it into the entertainment industry."
Riley nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.
After a round of overt and covert sparring, Riley finally came to terms with the fact that her skills were still far behind Ford’s. For the rest of the meal, she behaved herself and ate properly.
In truth, Ford hadn’t just met her yesterday or the day before—he knew perfectly well what kind of person she was. That kind of picky, sharp-tongued behavior was simply not something she was capable of pulling off.
She was, by nature, kind-hearted and considerate, someone who never deliberately targeted others. Of course, if someone provoked her first, her combat power was absolutely top-tier.
After lunch, Ford suggested going to see a movie. Riley felt like she was about to collapse.
"Dear lord, haven’t you tortured me enough these past few days?" she cried. "Can you please let me go home and rest? I have work tomorrow!"
She really was exhausted—after days of trying to avoid Ford, she was completely worn out.