011

SHAYLE

I shook my head immediately. “No, I don’t understand. Why do I have to report to your house?”

Was this man serious right now?

“I don’t see how that makes any sense, Mr. Dorne,” I pressed, trying to keep my voice steady even though I was already annoyed.

“Respectfully, I told you yesterday to keep your personal life out of work, and yet you’re…”

“Shayle Vale,” he cut in sharply.

“All my ex-secretaries reported to my house first thing in the morning. Why would you be different? Do you want special treatment just because you find me unattractive?"

His tone was taunting, and that smug glint in his eyes made my blood boil.

My fists clenched by my side. “Special treatment? No sir, this is no special treatment because it's not part of my job.”

“You were the one who took the role without asking around first.”

My mouth dropped open. “Unbelievable.”

He didn’t respond. He finally stepped back, adjusted his tie, and walked straight past me, out of the office, indicating that the conversation was over.

I didn't have the time to get angry. I grabbed my iPad and hurried after him.

He was already at the elevator, walking fast like he was in some sort of damn race.

I tried to match his pace, but it was impossible. When we reached the ground floor, he didn’t wait. He was already heading out the company doors.

I glanced at the iPad in my hands, scrolling through his schedule. Oh, right. He had a meeting scheduled with a partnering company—something about a new deal for an expansion project. The location was a restaurant called The Golden Ivy.

I let out a low sigh and hurried to catch up.

Outside, his two bodyguards joined us immediately, both dressed in black suits and matching sunglasses even though it was barely noon.

Lucien’s driver had already pulled up. He climbed into the back seat without a word.

I was about to follow when he shot me a displeased look, his hand gripping the door frame.

“Sit at the front,” he ordered coldly, then slammed the door right in my face.

My jaw tightened.

I stood there for a second, breathing through my nose so I wouldn’t scream.

I didn’t even have time to hate him properly before one of the bodyguards opened the passenger door for me. I muttered a quiet “thanks” and climbed in.

The car was silent except for the sound of the engine.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. It didn’t work. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became.

Who did this man think he was? God?

I glanced at the rearview mirror, and that was when I caught him staring at me. His dark eyes were locked on mine through the reflection.

I immediately looked away.

What now? Was he going to scold me for breathing too loud?

I focused on the view outside, pretending the tension wasn’t suffocating.

By the time we reached The Golden Ivy, I felt drained again and it was still morning!

The bodyguard quickly got out and opened Lucien’s door.

He stepped out first, composed as ever, while I tried to gather my scattered dignity. When I reached for my handle, the other bodyguard beat me to it, opening the door for me.

“Oh… thanks,” I said softly, stepping out. I caught a flicker of blush on the guard's face as he threw me a small smile. Was that blush for me?

“Don’t do that again,” I suddenly heard Lucien's voice tell the bodyguard flatly.

“She has hands. She can open her own door.”

My lips parted in disbelief. I rolled my eyes.

I knew he saw me. His jaw twitched slightly, but he didn’t comment.

I followed him through the entrance of the restaurant, doing my best not to trip in my heels with how fast I was walking.

The interior was fancy, with crystal-like lightings and gold accents, and that soft background music rich people seemed to love.

It didn’t take long to spot the group he was supposed to meet.

They stood out immediately; three men and one woman, all dressed like they’d walked straight out of a luxury fashion shoot.

We approached them, and Lucien’s expression switched instantly from cold arrogance to corporate charm.

“Mr. Callen,” Lucien greeted coolly, extending his hand. “Apologies for keeping you waiting.”

Mr. Callen gave him a wide smile. “Not at all. You’re right on time, Mr. Dorne. Please, have a seat.”

Lucien sat immediately, crossing one leg over the other like a man born in control of everything.

There was one empty chair left beside him, but I didn’t even bother trying to sit. I knew him too well by now. If I did, he’d probably remind me that “assistants stand.”

So I stood beside him quietly, clutching the iPad and listening as they started talking business.

They discussed profits, percentages, and projections; stuff that interested me alot but not today thanks to my shitty boss.

Whenever he needed something, I was quick to respond.

“Schedule the follow-up for next Friday,” he muttered without looking at me.

“Yes, sir.” I typed it in immediately.

“Send a copy of the report to Callen’s office before the end of the day.”

“Already noted.”

It was mechanical, but at least it gave me something to do instead of glaring holes into his back.

About thirty minutes in, a waiter appeared with a tray of meals and drinks. I stepped aside quickly to give him space, holding the iPad close to my chest.

He began placing the plates one by one in front of them, balancing the tray expertly until one of the glasses started wobbling. My eyes widened.

“Wait…”

But before I could finish, the tray tilted and everything happened so fast.

The glasses of wine slipped, the liquid flying midair, and in that split second, I could see disaster heading straight toward me.

I froze and closed my eyes, bracing for the impact.

But it never came.

Because someone yanked me roughly by the arm and pulled me out of the way. My body collided against something firm, someone’s chest.

There was a loud crash, glass shattering on the floor, the smell of red wine filling the air.

The waiter’s face went pale as he stuttered apologies.

My heart was thundering inside me. For a moment, I couldn’t move. I just stood there, pressed against whoever had pulled me.

I blinked and slowly looked up.

Lucien?

His arm was still wrapped around my waist, his grip firm and his eyes drifted from the mess on the floor that would have been me, then to my eyes.

He looked… different. His usual cold, arrogant look was replaced by something I was seeing for the first time. Genuine concern.

“Are you okay?”