012

SHAYLE

“Yes,” I muttered, finding my voice. “I’m fine.”

Though I was still in shock and my mind went blank for a moment, my back still tingled from the warmth of his arms.

His dark eyes met mine. Immediately, like a switch flipped in his head, his face hardened and he let go.

The slight crease of concern smoothed away, replaced by that cold look again.

He straightened his cuffs like saving me had been nothing more than a reflex he regretted.

“Why would you stand so close to the waiter? You want to become one?”

I looked up at him, confused. Is he really blaming me right now?

“I wonder how a lady can be so careless. Spare us all the trouble and be careful next time!”

I frowned but bit my tongue not to say anything.

There were too many eyes on us; businessmen in suits, waiters, and staff staring.

The humiliation of him scolding me like it was my fault, burned hotter than the wine that had soaked into my dress.

My hand brushed over my stomach where the liquid had seeped through the fabric. It was cold and sticky.

I forced my face to neutral and turned to him.

“I’ll go clean up,” I managed to say, my voice small from holding everything back.

He didn’t respond, just gave me one last blank look before sitting again like nothing had happened.

I walked as calmly as I could toward the restroom. Every step squished slightly from the damp fabric brushing against my thighs.

The second the door closed behind me, I let out a loud, frustrated groan.

“I can't believe this,” I muttered, glaring at my reflection in the mirror.

I wet a paper towel and dabbed at the stained spot, but the stain only smudged more.

I sighed, throwing the damp towel into the sink. “Damn it.”

It was just noon, and my day already felt like I was going through hell.

I rubbed my temple, taking deep breaths. This job I never even asked for, had managed to make me look like a clown in front of everyone out there. And the man responsible? That devil, Lucien.

A knock came at the door.

I frowned. “Occupied,” I called, expecting whoever it was to go away.

Another knock. This one firmer.

I rolled my eyes and opened the door slightly, half expecting some clueless staff member. But no, it was one of Lucien’s bodyguards.

He handed me a branded shopping bag.

“Mr. Dorne asked me to give you this. He said you should change.”

I stared at the bag. “What?”

“He insists,” the guard replied flatly. “So you should wear it immediately.”

I blinked, speechless for a moment. My first instinct was to say no.

“Tell him I’ll figure something out. I don’t need his help.”

The guard’s eyes didn’t even flinch. “I assure you, he won’t be pleased if you refuse.”

That part did it. The last thing I needed was another scene. I sighed, took the bag reluctantly, and closed the door.

I opened the bag and pulled out the dress. It was red. Okay, not bad, I thought. At least it wasn’t something insane.

Then I unfolded it fully, and froze.

“What the hell,” I whispered.

It was short. So short it could’ve passed for a long top. The neckline dipped so low my late grandmother would’ve fainted just seeing it.

And it looked tight enough to suffocate a breathing human. I held it up and laughed bitterly. What was I expecting?

Still, I slipped it on, just to see. The fabric clung to my body like plastic wrap.

My boobs looked like they were auditioning for a movie. My ass barely had coverage. I stared at myself in the mirror, horrified.

“Oh, he’s insane,” I muttered, yanking it off immediately.

“He’s completely fucking insane.”

I put my stained dress back on, even if it smelled faintly of wine, and left the restroom.

When I stepped back into the restaurant, the meeting table was empty except for Lucien.

The guests were gone, thank God.

His bodyguards stood by the corner, and the one that brought me the dress glanced at me in surprise, probably expecting to see me in the red thing.

Lucien looked up the second I approached. His brow furrowed.

“Why are you still wearing that?”

I tightened my grip on my iPad I had just picked up.

“Because, Mr. Dorne,” I said through gritted teeth,

“while I appreciate the gesture, that dress is... way too inappropriate to wear. Especially at work.”

“Inappropriate?” His tone carried a mix of disbelief and irritation.

“You’d rather walk around looking like you bathed in red wine?”

“I’d rather that than walk around looking like your eye candy,” I shot back before I could stop myself.

His expression shifted.

“You do realize,” he said slowly, his voice low now, “that questioning everything I tell you to do is only going to make your job harder.”

I met his eyes, refusing to flinch.

“If refusing to please you sexually, is what’s going to make things harder, then fine. Let it be hard.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t warm. It was cruel.

“You really think I can’t see through you?” he asked quietly, taking a step closer.

“You’re trying so hard to prove you’re different. To act like the one woman in this company who can’t be swayed. But you’re not. None of you are.”

“Excuse me?” I snapped, my voice rising.

He leaned closer, his breath ghosting my cheek.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he murmured. “For now, enjoy the little hell I’ll keep showing you.”

Then, just like that, he turned and walked away.

My fists clenched so tightly my knuckles went white. I wanted to throw the iPad at the back of his stupid suit. God, I can't take him anymore.

By the time I walked outside, still fuming, he was gone. Vanished. Not even his car remained.

“What the….,” I muttered under my breath. Did he really leave me behind?

I ended up calling a cab, sitting through the ride with my head pounding and my dress still damp. The driver kept glancing at me through the mirror like I was about to cry. Maybe I looked like I was. I didn’t even care.

When we finally reached the company, I paid and got out, storming through the lobby with my jaw clenched. The stares from people didn’t help at all.

I punched the elevator button and stepped in, relief washing over me when the doors started to close.

And then, just my luck, someone slipped in right before it shut.

Carlos. Can’t I have a single moment of peace to myself?

His eyes scanned me, pausing at the faint wine stain on my dress.

We stood in silence for a moment, the tension thick enough to choke on. Fine by me. Silence was better.

But no, he had to open his mouth.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see the day you’d actually look pretty until yesterday,” he muttered with a small smirk.

“Guess breaking up was all you needed to find yourself.”

I didn’t turn to him but my expression was flat. “Don’t flatter yourself, Carlos. I didn’t do it for you.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“Then who? Lucien?” He let out a low chuckle.

“You really think that man gives a damn about you? He’s going to chew you up and spit you out like the rest of the women who have been in your position. He’s not a good man.”

I snorted. “Look who’s talking about good men.”

That wiped the grin off his face.

He stared at me again, his tone changing, getting lower. And I knew that tone all too well. He didn't like that I wasn't giving him enough attention.

“You know, you look... manageable now. If you’re so heartbroken that you’re chasing your boss, just apologize and we can start over.”

My eyes snapped to him for the first time. “What?”

He shrugged, stepping closer like he was offering some kind of favor.

“You miss me, don’t you? It’s fine. I get it. You can just say it.”

I blinked, stunned. Then I laughed, a short, humorless sound.

“Are you serious right now?”

He smirked again, clearly taking it as a good sign.

“It’s okay. Luckily for you, I can still take you back. I can find a good excuse to give Alina. She'll throw a tantrum but that's the most she can do.”

That did it.

My hand moved before I even thought. The sound of the slap echoed in the small elevator.

His head turned slightly from the impact, his cheek immediately reddening.

A few gasps came from the doorway; our coworkers who had just walked up as the doors opened which I didn't even realise.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Even Carlos looked stunned, eyes wide.

I dropped my hand, breathing hard, my pulse hammering in my ears.

“That’s what I think of your offer,” I said quietly.