3. Do You Want Me?

 

Shirley：

Fate always knows when to strike, dragging the past out just when you're at your lowest.

My heart was pounding so hard it might’ve cracked a rib. Heat rushed to my cheeks like wildfire.

Too late to retreat. All I could do was step to the side, pretend it didn’t rattle me.

I forced my gaze upward... and met his.

His expression held a flicker of curiosity, a touch of mockery, but mostly, something deeper.

Something unreadable beneath that maddening calm.

I couldn't hold his gaze. I dropped mine, heart hammering.

The elevator shot upward, fast and smooth, but each second felt like a lifetime.

I could feel his gaze on me, hot, unrelenting, but I didn’t have the strength to look back.

My phone buzzed in my bag. I answered it in a rush, grateful for the distraction.

Josh's voice was urgent. "Shirley, my flight's delayed. The review meeting is all on you."

"No problem, I've got it." I tried to sound confident, but inside, I was spiraling.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could’ve sworn he was smiling.

When the elevator doors opened on the marketing floor, I bolted like I’d been set free. The sharp click of my heels echoed as I hurried down the hall.

 My temperature was rising again. I touched my forehead. Damn it. The fever was back. 

I popped a fever pill, , swallowed it dry, aand stepped into the conference room.

Minutes later, a subtle stir outside caught everyone's attention.

Connor.

He slowly strode in, radiating an intense presence as he settled into the head chair.

The marketing director, Mr. Gish, scrambled to flatter him with an overly eager smile, but Connor didn’t even spare him a glance.

"Everyone," Mr. Gish beamed, "we’re honored to have our CEO with us—Mr. Rogers. His presence today is a privilege."

CEO? Of Virex Group?!

The industrial titan that was basically running half the world?

My heart lurched. He'd never once told me he had any connection to Virex Group!

Three years ago, all I knew was that he worked for some small company, always busy, not particularly successful, and constantly stressed about business and office politics.

And now, he was the head of this massive corporation?

A fleeting, almost sinful hope flickered in my mind: Would he, perhaps, give me special consideration because of our past?

It felt unethical, but honestly, I was desperate for this review to go well.

Just then, a staff member called out to me.

"Ma'am, please come in for your presentation right away."

"Me?" I paused, glancing at the number card in my hand. "But I'm number ten..."

"It's fine, just come in now."

What a pleasant surprise!

This was a good sign!

I connected my laptop to the projector and brought up the proposal, which Josh had revised countless times.

Though a little nervous, I spoke clearly and methodically.

"Your company's advertising still primarily focuses on traditional media, whereas Kolvo Studio specializes in precision-targeted influencer marketing, which can create exponential growth in a social-driven market…"

The fever reducer was doing its work, and my shirt was already damp with sweat. The cold air from the AC chilled me to the bone. 

Connor leaned his head slightly, absently sketching in his notebook, occasionally looking up, propping his chin with his hand, his gaze lingering on me.

His perfect jawline looked particularly striking in the fluctuating light of the projector.

My heart fluttered, and I almost lost my train of thought.

"And finally, thank you for considering Kolvo Studio. We’d be honored to work with you." I flashed my most charming smile, ending the presentation.

The moment my words faded, Connor casually tossed his pen aside, stood up, and walked out.

I stood there, stunned.

What? He just left? 

I'd thought his presence might give us an edge, but it was nothing more than a casual whim for him.

From his high perch, why would he care about a mere departmental contract?

Mr. Gish approached me with a too-slick smile and offered his hand.

“Ms. Wilson, your presentation was quite creative. But your company’s size is... limiting. I’m afraid it’s a no.”

His grip lingered. His thumb brushed across my hand.

“But,” he leaned in slightly, voice dropping, gaze unapologetically hungry, “if you’re willing to… put in some extra effort, we might reconsider.”

I recoiled, yanked my hand away. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gish. I’m only here to talk business.”

I strode away, a wave of disgust rising in my chest.

I yanked a wet wipe from my bag and scrubbed my hand like it had touched something filthy.

Just as I reached the elevators, someone called out, "Ms. Wilson, my boss would like to see you in his office."

The CEO's office was on the top floor of the skyscraper, with a sprawling view of the city beneath its glass walls.

I stood before Connor's massive desk, my head bowed in silence, unsure what to say.

He moved from his seat, retrieved a clean shirt from an adjoining room, and handed it to me.

"Change into this."

"Why?" I asked, surprised.

"Your shirt's soaked through. Aren't you uncomfortable?"

"When did you even see..." I snapped.

His tone was neutral, but it sent a flush through me. He knew my body too well…

As I hesitated, he scooped me up sideways.

 The sudden movement made my head spin, and I instinctively clutched his neck, panicking.

He set me down on the sofa, then pulled up my top, his fingers gently tracing the bruise on my lower back.

"See? Still swollen. Does it still hurt?" he murmured.

His fingertips were warm, and a subtle current spread from my inner thighs all the way to my lower abdomen, making me tremble.

I bit my lip, my voice tight.

"A little."

Damn it. Why was my body reacting like this when I hated him so much?

He lowered my shirt, his eyes dark and deep.

"Rest here until you feel better, otherwise Virex will be held responsible if you collapse halfway home." 

He casually unbuttoned one of my buttons, his fingertip lightly brushing my collarbone, a hint of something suggestive in his voice.

 "Want to do it yourself, or should I help you?"

The close proximity unsettled me.

I snatched the shirt and went into the adjoining room to change.

Coonor’s shirt hung loosely on me, soft and familiar. I used to love wrapping myself in his things.

I looked at my reflection, lost in thought.

The ring of my phone pulled me back to reality. It was Josh.

"Shirley, my flight’s about to take off, but I probably won’t make it in time. How are things on your end?"

I hesitated. "Still… no result."

He sounded as if he'd expected it, a note of resignation in his voice.

"Don't worry. For a small company like ours, not getting through is normal. You did great; this isn't on you."

My eyes welled up.

His proposal was so brilliant, why did we always just miss success?

I turned, my gaze locking onto Connor.

"Connor, do you want me?"

I rose on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his.