Chapter 112
But in the next instant, the man tilted his head slightly and dodged the kick with ease.
At the same time, his hand shot out like lightning and grabbed her ankle.
Feeling his grip lock around her, Charlotte's expression shifted.
But she didn't panic. She reacted instantly and swung her other leg at him.
The moment he moved to dodge, she used the momentum to spin her body around, planting one hand on the floor and scissoring both legs toward his neck.
For a moment, the small office was filled with the rush of fists and the blur of two figures weaving around each other.
In another exchange, Charlotte spotted an opening and reached for his mask again with her right hand.
The man turned aside to dodge, his left hand catching her wrist while his right arm wrapped around her waist, trying to pin her down.
But there was no way Charlotte was going to let that happen. She twisted at the waist, ready to break free.
But just as she pushed off, her foot slipped on something, and she lost her balance completely, falling backward with no way to stop herself.
Thud.
Charlotte's back slammed hard against the cold wall.
The masked man, having reached out to catch her, ended up pressing his entire body against hers.
The world spun. A warm, distinctly male presence washed over her, trapping her firmly between the wall and his broad chest.
Her right hand was pinned in his grip, raised above her head. Her left hand had been trying to pull off his mask, but he'd grabbed it and held it down between them at their waists.
They were pressed together in an unmistakably intimate position, breath mingling, bodies close.
Charlotte could even catch the clean, sharp scent of bergamot coming off him, and for a moment she went still.
She looked up at the silver mask just inches from her face, and the deep, dark eyes beneath it, and froze completely.
The air between them quietly shifted into something charged.
Click.
The office door unlocked from the outside. A shaft of light spilled in, clearly outlining the two figures tangled together against the wall.
Alexander walked in carrying an insulated lunch box, a faint, almost imperceptible warmth in his expression.
Then he took in the scene inside the office, and his face went rigid. The air around him dropped ice-cold in an instant, and a furious fire ignited in his eyes.
"Let go of her!"
The masked man caught sight of Alexander closing in like a blur, and his pupils shrank sharply. On instinct, he released Charlotte and stepped aside.
Alexander's punch hit nothing but air, which only made his fury burn hotter. His fists clenched with an audible crack.
"Why so worked up, Mr. Harris?" the man said, his voice carrying a teasing lilt as he steadied himself. "What, jealous?"
Those words were like gasoline on a fire, and they burned through the last thread of Alexander's self-control.
He grabbed a metal chair off the floor, swung it up, and hurled it straight at the man.
Seeing that, the masked man dropped all pretense of ease, snapped his focus back, and immediately moved to dodge.
Charlotte stood nearby, watching the two of them crash around the office, the noise growing louder by the second. She couldn't help but frown.
She hadn't expected Alexander to come in swinging. If this kept up, it wouldn't be long before security showed up.
If things escalated any further, there'd be no clean way out of this.
Just as that thought crossed her mind, Alexander had already backed the man into the window, his other hand shooting toward his throat.
Charlotte didn't hesitate. She rushed forward and stepped between them.
"Stop! Alexander, calm down!"
Alexander, still deep in his rage, snapped out of it for a moment and looked at her in surprise. For just a second, something hurt flickered in his eyes.
The masked man seized the opening. He glanced at Charlotte, his lips moved slightly, and then he threw himself backward without hesitation, crashing through the floor-to-ceiling window behind him.
Crash.
The sound of shattering glass rang out, and the night wind rushed in, lifting Charlotte's hair.
She blinked and watched his figure vanish into the darkness.
Alexander came back to himself and moved to give chase, but Charlotte stopped him.
"Don't."
Hearing her defend that man, Alexander spun around, the disbelief in his eyes deepening.
"Why? Unless you—"
Charlotte understood immediately what he meant and shook her head firmly. "No. Of course not."
"I'm not trying to protect him. I just don't want anything to happen to you."
Alexander went still, caught off guard. "What?"
"If that man gets hurt, do you know what tomorrow's headlines will say?" Charlotte took a deep breath and, in a rare moment of patience, explained. "Harris Group CEO snaps and kills man, throws him from a high-rise. Death confirmed."
"You'd go to prison. And the Harris Group would take the hit too."
By the time she finished, Alexander had come back to his senses, and reason slowly returned.
He looked around at the wrecked office, then something seemed to occur to him, and his eyes flickered.
"Who was he? What did he want? And just now, he and you—"
The questions came out one after another, each one laying bare the deep unease underneath. He was afraid. Afraid of getting an answer he couldn't handle.
Charlotte could see exactly what was going through his mind. She let out a breath and walked him through what had happened.
"That's all there was to it. As for who he is, I don't know either."
Alexander's sharp gaze settled on her eyes. Watching her face, open and steady, he seemed to believe her, and the tension slowly left his body.
But then his eyes dropped to her wrist, slightly red and swollen, and his expression darkened.
"He hurt you."
"It's nothing. Just a minor thing, don't worry about it."
Charlotte glanced at it briefly and shook her head.
But Alexander didn't let it go. He gently took her wrist in his hand, his thumb lightly tracing over the red mark.
"He deserves to die."
The words came out low and edged with violence. Charlotte said nothing, and didn't try to talk him out of it.
She knew Alexander was still angry. Angry at the masked man, and angry at her for stepping in to stop him.
She was about to say something when the corner of her eye caught the faint redness across his knuckles.
She grabbed his hand and looked. It was covered in cuts, some of them still bleeding.
"How did you get this badly hurt."
He glanced at it without much concern and shook his hand loosely. "It'll heal fast."
"No. It needs to be bandaged."
With that, Charlotte pulled him over to the sofa nearby and sat him down.
It was one of the few spots in the office that hadn't been caught up in the fight.
Then she took out the antiseptic and began carefully tending to his wounds.