Chapter 55 The Line I Draw
She knew he had gone to the office today. On impulse, Bianca told the driver to change course toward the headquarters of the Anderson Group.
She wanted to see him.
The moment she stepped into the gleaming tower, the receptionist straightened, greeting her with practiced warmth before ushering her into the president's private elevator. It carried her straight to the top floor.
The doors slid open and Bianca stepped out, only to see Barry hurrying from the direction of Terrence's office, a folder in hand, brows drawn tight.
"Mrs. Anderson?" Barry blinked at her in mild surprise before his expression reset to professional calm. "You're here."
"Is Mr. Anderson busy?" Bianca's gaze drifted toward the closed office door.
"Ms. Sharp is inside," Barry said quietly, a faint hesitation in his tone. "She claimed to be delivering a project on behalf of her family and insisted on handing it to Mr. Anderson in person. She's been in there for a while."
Hestia.
The spark of anticipation in Bianca's chest cooled, but her face remained serene.
She didn't head for the lounge. Instead, she walked toward Terrence's private retreat adjoining his office—a space with a wall of one-way glass. From here, she could see into the office without being seen. The soundproofing was perfect.
She hadn't come to eavesdrop. But her feet stopped in front of the glass.
Inside, Terrence sat behind his wide desk, sunglasses shielding his eyes, expression unreadable. Hestia wasn't in the guest chair. She stood close to the desk, far too close.
Her ivory dress clung to her frame, neckline dipping just enough to hint at skin. Her hair fell in soft waves, makeup polished to a shine. The usual sharpness in her demeanor had been traded for something softer… more calculated.
"Terrence, this proposal is something my father specifically asked me to deliver to you personally." She slid the folder toward him.
Terrence's reply was cool, his head unmoving. "Leave it. I'll read it."
His indifference didn't deter her. She leaned in, one arm braced on the desk, closing the gap between them. The angle offered a deliberate glimpse of her décolletage.
"There are a few details I'd like to explain verbally…" Her eyes dropped to his hand holding the pen. Slowly, she extended a finger, as if to point to a place on the document. "Here…"
Her fingertip was aimed at the back of his hand.
Though blind, Terrence's senses were razor-sharp. Just before she could touch him, his wrist shifted. The pen tapped against the desk with a crisp click, creating a barrier between her skin and his.
"Ms. Sharp." His voice was colder now, carrying a clear warning. "If you have something to say, say it. Keep your distance."
Her hand froze midair. A flash of discomfort crossed her face, quickly masked by a smile.
"Sorry, Terrence… I got ahead of myself."
She inched closer again, almost brushing the armrest of his chair, her gaze lingering on the angles of his jaw and the line of his mouth.
He couldn't see her. Couldn't see the posture she'd chosen. That was the advantage she was gambling on.
But Terrence's patience was gone. He leaned back, widening the space between them. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Her color drained. Still, she wasn't ready to retreat. Just as he reached for the phone to call Barry, she let out a soft gasp and stumbled forward, as if she'd lost her footing, her hand reaching toward his shoulder.
The door swung open.
"Dear… done with work yet?"
Bianca stood in the doorway, a glass of water in hand, her smile bright and unhurried.
Hestia's hand froze mid-reach, her feigned stumble collapsing into awkward stillness. She straightened quickly, color flooding and draining from her face.
The moment Terrence heard Bianca's voice, the frost in his demeanor melted. He turned toward the sound without hesitation, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "Bianca?"
"I brought you some water. Barry said you've been at it for hours." Her voice was soft, oblivious to the tension in the room.
She crossed the office and set the glass beside him, then moved around the desk to stand at his side. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder—precisely where Hestia had aimed moments earlier—her fingers kneading lightly in quiet reassurance.
"Tired, Dear?" she murmured near his ear, her breath warm against his skin.
Terrence's hand covered hers, fingers threading through before lifting her hand to his lips for a brief kiss. "Not tired. What brings you here?"
"I missed you." The words were simple, unguarded. Only then did she glance at Hestia, her expression touched with polite surprise. "Ms. Sharp… I hope I'm not interrupting business?"
Hestia's smile strained. "No… no, we're finished."
"Ms. Rodriguez, you and Terrence seem very close."
"We are." Bianca's answer was unapologetic. Her arm slipped around Terrence's neck, her body leaning into him, gaze lifted to his face, eyes bright as stars.
"Of course we're close… right, Dear?" The words were both a reply to Hestia and a claim meant for Terrence.
His arm circled her waist, drawing her in, his voice low and indulgent. "Mm."
Her smile deepened. Before he could react, she turned her face up and pressed her lips to his. She lingered, her tongue brushing lightly against his, feeling the sudden tension in his body.
Terrence froze for a heartbeat, then his hand tightened at her waist. His other hand cupped the back of her neck, deepening the kiss, taking control. He drank her in.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing harder.
Color warmed Bianca's cheeks. Her eyes shimmered with mischief as she leaned into his shoulder, her voice husky with satisfaction. "Sorry, Ms. Sharp… we're always like this. Hope you don't mind."
Hestia's face shifted from pale to flushed to stormy. Her nails bit into her palm. "It's fine."
Bianca nodded, turning her attention back to Terrence, smoothing the collar of his shirt though it was already perfect. Her touch was gentle, intimate.
"Ms. Sharp, do you have any other business?" Her tone was polite, but the dismissal was unmistakable.
Hestia mumbled something about not disturbing them and left quickly.
Silence settled, broken only by the sound of their breathing.
Bianca eased back just enough to look at him, her fingers playing with the second button of his shirt. "Mr. Anderson… did I interrupt your work?"
His thumb brushed her swollen lower lip, his voice rough. "What do you think?"