Chapter 008: Wiggling Bait The Bite Is Imminent

The next day, I was sipping iced Americano through a straw when the salary adjustment email popped up.

The after-tax figure of twenty-five thousand US dollars flashed prominently on the screen.

I snorted through the coffee straw and tapped the screen with my finger.

Raise secured!

Next step: Flip the boss's desk!

Seeing me grinning so broadly, Clara Hayes couldn't help leaning over.

"Lisa, you worked overtime so late last night, but you're still so energetic today. Did you take some magic pills?"

I dragged the salary email to the trash.

"No magic pills, but the capitalists finally had a change of heart and refilled my health bar."

Clara was about to speak when Nancy's office door swung open.

"Lisa, come to my office."

Clara whispered a warning, leaning in close:

"Nurse Nancy got dressed down by Mr. Knight this morning. She’ll probably take it out on you."

As she spoke, she crossed herself quickly.

"Sister, come back alive."

I finished the last sip of iced Americano, winked at Clara, and said:

"Wait for me."

Nancy's office reeked of cold-toned incense.

She slammed a stack of documents down on her desk.

"You're quite capable."

A sneer curved Nancy's red lips.

"Getting a special salary raise approved by the CEO's office just one day after joining. I underestimated you."

I tilted my head, feigning innocence:

"It’s all thanks to your guidance, Director."

"Cut the flattery!"

Nancy rapped her knuckles on the documents and slid them toward me.

"'Fading Spring' has been moved to the main exhibition area. You’re fully responsible for the exhibition layout plan. The first draft review is this Friday, and Mr. Knight will personally sit in on the presentation."

Upon hearing this, I glanced at the documents on the desk, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of my eye.

This wasn’t just work—it was Alexander Knight handing me the fishing rod. He was letting me reel him in personally.

"Mr. Knight specifically named you. Don’t embarrass yourself."

I lifted my eyes to meet Nancy's scrutinizing gaze.

A small dimple formed at the corner of my mouth.

"How dare I let you down?"

Nancy leaned back in her leather swivel chair and nodded toward the door.

"Get out, and don’t disappoint me."

I smiled faintly, picked up the documents, and turned to leave the office.

Back at my workstation, Clara immediately slid over on her swivel chair.

"Did Nurse Nancy give you a hard time?"

"She gave me a 'blessing' for us workers."

I waved the documents.

"I’m in charge of the exhibition layout plan next month."

Clara gasped.

"Putting you in charge of a key project right after you joined? That’s terrible."

"From now on, we can’t slack off together—you won’t even have time to catch your breath."

I turned on my computer, the corner of my lips lifting slightly.

What fun was slacking off when fishing was so much more intriguing?

...

Thursday night, ten o’clock.

I was the last one left in the Collection Department, packing up after another late session. "The office lights were dimmed around my workstation." I grabbed an armful of heavy art albums from my desk and headed toward the archives to return them before calling it a night.

As I hurried back down the corridor, my arms were so full I could barely see. The heavy albums shifted in my grasp. I was focused on not dropping them.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of movement—a tall, dark shadow falling across the entrance to the archives. My heart gave a little jump. I recognized that silhouette instantly.

Alexander Knight.

He was just standing there, watching me.

On an impulse, I changed my course and turned into the archives as planned, my back to the entrance. I could feel his gaze on me, a tangible weight between my shoulder blades.

In front of the album shelf, I stretched onto my tiptoes, pretending to struggle to reach a spot on the top shelf. My cream-colored knit sweater rode up with the movement, exposing a strip of skin at my waist. I knew he could see.

Then, I turned my head slightly, as if just noticing the shadow at the entrance.

I loosened my fingers deliberately, letting my balance waver.

The albums slipped from my grasp, tumbled past my hair, and crashed to the floor with a loud thud. The pearl hairpin securing my bun was dislodged, clinking down beside the mess.

I stumbled backward for effect, letting my lower back connect with the solid iron shelf with a soft, convincing thud. My black hair came completely loose, cascading down to cover half my face.

*Perfect.*

Rapid, purposeful footsteps approached from behind. I curled the corner of my lips against the cool metal of the shelf.

In the next second, a strong arm reached past me, bracing the iron shelf I'd bumped. At the same time, I was enveloped by that familiar, pleasant scent of agarwood and expensive cologne.

He bent down, picked up my pearl hairpin, his thumb brushing slowly over the smooth surface. His voice was cool when he spoke.

"Couldn’t reach it? Why not get a ladder?"

"Thank you, Mr. Knight."

I looked up, letting loose strands of hair stick to my slightly sweaty forehead for effect. I made sure my eyes were wide, sparkling with what I hoped looked like a mix of surprise and innocent gratitude, clear as apricots.

As I reached to take the hairpin back, I let my fingertips brush—so lightly it could have been an accident—against the rough calluses on his palm.

A faint, electric tingle shot up my own arm at the contact. I saw his breath hitch, just for a fraction of a second.

He pulled his hand back, his gaze dropping to my forehead, which I’d probably reddened a bit against the shelf.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

I placed the pearl hairpin between my lips, freeing my hands to quickly gather and twist my hair back up. I replied, my words slightly muffled by the pin, as I secured it neatly into a fresh bun.

"Mr. Knight, can I apply for work-related injury compensation?"

He let out a low, unexpected laugh. The sound vibrated in the quiet archive.

"So dedicated. Should I award you Employee of the Month?"

My eyes lit up on cue. This was the opening.

"Can it be converted into cash and deposited into my account?"

I saw his eyebrow raise. Even the twenty-five thousand raise clearly hadn't satisfied him that I was anything but a little money-grubber. A glutton.

"Converted into cash?" His voice was deep, laced with a hint of teasing I hadn't heard before. "You sure know how to count."

"I’m a worker. I have to be careful with money to get by," I said, bending down with a sigh to start gathering the scattered albums.

He watched me as I worked, efficiently putting everything back in its place. I could feel his eyes on me, assessing.

"If you can get me to approve the plan tomorrow," he said after a moment, his tone shifting back to something more businesslike, yet with an undercurrent I couldn't ignore, "the bonus will be converted into cash along with your salary."

He paused, then added, "Also, Knight Group doesn’t encourage overtime. If your workload is excessive, you can report it to your supervisor to adjust the task distribution."

Upon hearing this, I couldn't help it—real sparks of triumph exploded behind my eyes.

Bonus converted into cash? Knight Group doesn’t encourage overtime?

What kind of fairy boss was this?

Overtime pay, no deductions for slacking off, quick raises, and double bonuses.

No wonder workers from all over the country were breaking down the doors to get into Knight Group.

This job was getting more and more promising—even if I collapsed, this company couldn’t.

"You have a good eye, Mr. Knight." I smiled, letting my eyes crinkle into dimples. "I’m best at bending for five pecks of gold."

I hugged the salvaged albums to my chest. "If there’s nothing else, Mr. Knight, I’ll get back to work on the report. After all, I haven’t got that Employee of the Month award yet."

With that, I walked out of the archives, feeling his gaze on my back all the way. I knew the sway of my slender waist in this skirt was doing exactly what I intended.

Once back at my workstation, I placed the albums down and finally let myself curl my lips in a full, unobserved smirk.

All the overtime these past few days had been worth it.

Alexander Knight, this cold-faced tycoon, had no shortage of people throwing themselves at him.

He needed to taste the itch of being ignored.

Bait for catching a tycoon had to be simmered with patience.

No hurry.

The fishing rod was twitching. Could the bite be far behind?