C10

His gaze from above was deep and piercing, yet he offered no response. Instead, he intoned gravely, "Keep up the foolishness, and you'll find yourself without a protector."

With those words, he turned and strode away.

I rose to my feet and, without a second thought, hurled the half-finished milk tea into the trash can.

Bang.

The noise was loud enough to make Wesley pause and glance back.

I met his gaze defiantly, my eyes telegraphing my irritation and fury.

He dipped his head, then lifted it once more, a sly smile playing at the corners of his thin lips. "Quit the tantrum. That kind of display invites men to think they can kiss you, or worse," he taunted.

My indignation flared. I marched past him, hissing "Pig!" as I went.

Suddenly, he seized my wrist.

"What are you doing? Let go!" I struggled, my voice pitching higher.

The smirk had vanished from Wesley's face, replaced by an icy stare. His eyes were unfathomable, like the depths of the ocean, leaving me clueless about his thoughts.

I couldn't free myself and snapped, "Let go or I'm calling for help!"

He continued to hold my gaze, silent and unyielding.

My anger persisted, but his intense look sparked an inexplicable fear within me.

Who knew what he might do next?

My threat to call for help was just bravado. I wouldn't dare, not here by the company where colleagues or Rowena might see and label me as some lovestruck fool trying to seduce the big boss.

He was right to call me an idiot. I knew he was as dangerous as a wolf and I was no match for him, yet I had foolishly confronted him.

As I was about to pry his fingers off with my other hand, he slowly released his grip.

My wrist throbbed from his tight hold.

I looked down, massaging the sore spot.

Wesley remained quiet.

By the time I looked up again, he was gone.

His retreating figure was tall and resolute, like a rugged pine tree. For some reason, in that instant, a wave of inexplicable sadness washed over me.

I watched his silhouette fade until it vanished from my line of sight.

That evening.

Dahlia, for once without any engagements, came home for dinner.

I hauled out all the ingredients I'd bought the day before from the fridge, but all I managed to whip up was a passable plate of stir-fried greens.

Dahlia couldn’t cook either, so she simply called in for some takeout.

While we waited, she tossed me a towel-wrapped bundle of ice.

"It's okay, the swelling's gone down." I accepted it anyway and held it to my face.

The chill seeped in, bringing a welcome relief.

As Dahlia set out chopsticks and bowls, she remarked, "I've been at the company for years, and this is the first time I've seen Rowena lay a hand on anyone beneath her."

I gave a wry smile. "Given my unique circumstances, I can't fault her."

"Selling only two units in half a month... Rowena's basically pushing you out. What's your plan?"

Before I could respond, the doorbell chimed. I rose to answer it and brought the takeout inside.

After a few bites, I set my chopsticks down. "If push comes to shove, I'll just have to look elsewhere."

"I've got a few leads I'm following. Want me to hand a couple off to you?"

I shook my head. The company had strict policies; unless a client requested otherwise, sales consultants weren't to be switched midstream.

After the issue with changing prices on my own, stirring up more trouble by swapping clients could lead to more than just a slap on the wrist.

Lying in bed that night, the stress of needing to sell two apartments gave me a pounding headache. Wesley's words blazed through my mind: "You should poach me as a client and get under Layla's skin. That would bring you one step closer to your revenge..."

The thought alone sent a shiver down my spine.

Since when had I started considering such ruthless, repugnant tactics?