“That wasn’t polite, Ms. Desmond.” He tilts his head, his gaze hardened. “That was an intentional move.”
What the fuck?
He got that from a regular, polite conversation I had with her? I thought it was very civil of us.
“You’re overreaching, Mr. Choi,” I say, deadpan.
“Am I?” He chuckles. “Why do you want to talk to Cece and not—mmm—the other Wentworths? Or the Astors even? Why are you… avoiding them?”
“Because…” My mind blanks.
“Because?” He smirks again, this time a tad more softly.
“Because,” I state firmly. “Ms. Wentworth is the representative from their company. She’s the other arm of themerger.”
Jesus. It was the simplest answer but his intimidation is making me forget my own name. I don’t like it when I’m flustered, and his proximity and accusations are doing justthat.
“And,” I stupidly continue. “It’s not like I’m the only one taking advantage of this party for professional purposes.”
He frowns when I square my shoulders in defiance. Then he tilts his head, studying me. “Have you ever been in touch with Thomas or Odette Astor before tonight?”
My pulse hammers in my throat at the question. And I think he notices the change in my face that I wasn’t quick enough to hide.
He scoffs. “I see. Are they the ones who told you to take on this merger?”
Now that pulls me out of my nervous state. “W-What? Are you serious? Why are you interrogating me and not them?”
“That wasn’t a no.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter under my breath. “No. I wasn’t asked to take on this project by any of the Astors. The firm received a request for quotation and they followed through. AndIchose the project because I wanted my new research vertical. Happy?”
He stays silent, absorbing my words. Then nodding, he takes a thankful half a step back. “Alright, Ms. Desmond. You clearly have the excuses ready—”
Excuses?
“—but don’t think I’m not watching you. I’d… hope… that you keep your head straight before intervening with things that are not your concern.”
I frown at him, genuinely bewildered. “Are you that single-minded that you can’t comprehend the words coming out of my mouth?” It’s almost as if my last word summons his gaze toward—
I clear my throat. “You need to back off and let theprofessionals handle this. Let me do my job.”
He quirks a brow, eyes lifting to mine. Thank God!
“Professionals? I’m anexecutiveassistant, woman. Not a PA.”
“You…” I bring out my own sweet smile. “Actually, you are an errant man whipping fantasies out of nothing. And using your flawed judgment to justify cornering a woman.”
His demeanor shifts quickly and I know I’ve said the right words. He’s no longer in my space. In fact, he takes two massive steps back, his face a picture of confusion. I almost feel bad for the embarrassed flush in his cheeks.
“I apologize,” he says, almost coldly. “I shouldn’t have…” He trails off.
I assume he’ll continue, but in a blink he’s gone. Walking away. Leaving me smirking at his retreating, stiff back.
??????
I knock gently on the office door. The nameplate readsLevi Astor - President,its brass letters polished to a gold gleam. When there’s no response, I frown. I know he’s here—I just saw his blurry silhouette across the frosted glass panels.
I knock again, then try the handle, surprised when it gives.
