"There wasn't any mention of you," Donovan replied coolly.
Chloe felt a pang of disappointment at his answer, but she didn't dare to inquire further.
After all, she was just an intern, and her status at the company wouldn't likely catch Donovan's attention.
Then, her phone buzzed. Checking it, she saw a friend request on WhatsApp with only the name "Brayden."
She couldn't recall knowing anyone by that name, so she didn't respond. Scammers were far too common online to take chances.
"I'm going to sleep now," she said nervously and quickly turned off the bedside lamp, retreating into the comfort of her covers.
The air conditioning in the room was cool, and the silk summer blanket was genuinely comfortable.
Without looking back, Donovan murmured a soft acknowledgment, seemingly preoccupied with work.
Chloe buried her face in her pillow, leaving only her eyes uncovered to stealthily watch Donovan.
Her gaze unintentionally swept across his distinct, chiseled features, which were quite stern.
In reality, his face bore no resemblance to Andrew Price except when he smiled, which was rare for Donovan. Chloe couldn't understand how she had once mistaken him for Andrew.
The thought of Andrew made her even sadder. His death had been tragic.
She curled up tighter under the blanket, silently letting tears flow.
Perhaps the crying was too intense because, eventually, she began to sniffle.
"Is it so bad being with me?" Donovan's calm voice came from outside the blankets.
"No," her muffled voice replied from within.
"Then why the tears?" he asked.
"I just kinda miss home," she muttered dismissively before turning her back to sleep.
Donovan didn't press further.
Even though she said she was going to sleep, rest eluded her.
That's when a picture frame on the nightstand caught her attention.
She picked it up, an image of a young woman who, despite the layer of dust, was clearly very charming and only a few years older than Chloe.
Flipping the frame, she saw a name written on the back.
Chloe whispered it, "Paisley."
A realization struck her like lightning, 'Is this the name Donovan called out that first night? Could this be the unforgettable ex-lover he keeps stored in his heart?'
"Put it down. Don't touch that!"
Suddenly, Donovan's cold voice cut through the silence.
Chloe shuddered, and the frame dropped to the floor beside the bed.
Donovan bent to retrieve it, accidentally pressing down on Chloe in the process.
Chloe's breath became rapid, her chest heaving with shock.
She was scared.
After picking up the frame and shoving it haphazardly into a drawer, Donovan remained on top of her, not moving away.
Chloe was flustered, unsure of what to do, when suddenly, Donovan turned off the lights.
'Is this leading to sex?' she thought, as the air filled with an ambiguous tension.
Chloe, with determined grit, suddenly said, "Mr. Blake, I'd like to stay at New East International Group. Could you speak to human resources on my behalf?"
Her words were not a plea. They were an assertion of equal standing, conveying a message: 'I know you're aroused, Mr. Blake, but if you want this, there are terms: let me stay at New East International Group.'
She knew the contract had alluded to Donovan having the final say, but sex was not something that had been outlined, and when she inquired, his answer wasn't explicit.
Chloe needed the job, she needed the money, and now was the perfect time to make her demand.
At this crucial moment, she held her ground.
"Are you threatening me?" Donovan's voice was dark and magnetic, hovering in Chloe's ear.
"No. It's confidence! I'm confident in my work," Chloe retorted.
Donovan didn't respond. Instead, he began to kiss her neck.
His arm unintentionally brushed against the soft curves of her chest, accurately triggering memories of their first encounter.
This sent shivers down Chloe's entire body.
Her mind alternated between lucidity and fog, and insistently, she reiterated, "What do you say, Mr. Blake?"
Donovan pinned Chloe down, his gaze landing on the teary redness of her eyes—endearingly vulnerable yet fiercely resistant.
Samuel had warned him not to bully her. She was eight years younger than him.
The anger in Donovan's heart had subsided somewhat, and as his hand brushed Chloe's icy cheek, he rasped, "What's your boyfriend's name?"