Chapter 80 Of Unknown Origin?
Selena's POV
I looked at Anna. "I don't want a report, Anna. I want a custom-made coffin for them, and then nail the lid shut for me."
A flash of understanding crossed Anna's eyes.
"I understand, Selena." She nodded and turned to leave.
"Wait." I stopped her.
She paused.
"Sterling Group's catering team—did you get in touch with them?"
"Yes," Anna replied. "They said they'd be happy to take over. They promised to provide a brand new menu and service first thing tomorrow morning."
"Good."
I wanted everyone to see.
My people, I protect them.
Anyone who dares touch them, I'll make them pay ten times, a hundred times over.
After Anna left, the office fell quiet again.
I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, trying to calm that irritating pain.
Damn it.
I hated this feeling of my body being out of control.
Just then, there were two light knocks on the office door.
"Come in." I thought it was Emily.
The door opened, and the person who walked in made my body tense up instantly.
Royce.
What was he doing here?
He'd changed clothes. No longer wearing the casual cashmere sweater from this morning, but a perfectly tailored navy blue suit. He was carrying a paper bag with some fancy pastry shop logo on it.
He strolled in like a king inspecting his territory, then placed the paper bag on my desk.
"I heard you didn't eat well at lunch." His voice was low, with a hint of barely noticeable amusement. "Brought you something."
I looked at the paper bag, then at him.
My brain was racing.
How did he get in? Why didn't the front desk stop him? Why didn't they call to notify me?
Then I remembered—I'd said this morning that I wanted Sterling Group's catering team to take over the cafeteria.
So now he was coming in openly as a "vendor"?
That bastard.
He always had a way of backing me into a corner with no way out.
"I don't need it. And this is my work time, Mr. Sterling. If you're here to discuss the cafeteria contract, please contact my assistant to make an appointment."
"I'm not here to discuss a contract." He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down uninvited, his long legs casually crossed. "I'm here to fulfill the second half of our 'deal.'"
"The deal is over."
"No," he shook his head, those deep eyes seeming to see through all my pretenses. "Our twenty-four hours still has over ten hours left. I said you'd spend a day with me. Since you can't leave your office, I'll come keep you company."
I was almost amused by his twisted logic.
"I don't need your company."
"But you need to eat." He opened the paper bag and took out a beautiful box, opening it.
A sweet aroma mixed with cream and berries instantly filled the entire office.
It was a cake that looked expensive, decorated with fresh, plump red currants.
My stomach growled at an inopportune moment.
Quietly, but in the silent office, loud enough for him to hear.
The curve of his lips became more pronounced.
"Looks like your body is more honest than your mouth."
"I said I don't need it." I pushed the cake box toward him.
"Selena, don't fight with your own stomach." He didn't move, just tapped the desk lightly with his finger. "You just cleaned out a bunch of vendors feeding you garbage food, and now you're planning to celebrate with a hunger strike?"
"I just don't eat things from unknown sources."
"La Patisserie," he named the pastry shop—one of the most expensive and hardest to book French pastry shops in the city. "Their head chef used to be the French President's personal pastry chef. Now, is its source clear enough?"
My stomach twisted again.
I hated this feeling. This feeling of being backed into a corner by him, with even my body speaking for him.
I stared at him hard. He met my gaze calmly, even with a hint of that damn smile at the corner of his mouth.
Fine.
I gave in.
Not to him—to my stomach.
I picked up the silver fork he'd placed to the side, cut off a small piece of cake, and put it in my mouth.
Rich dark chocolate mousse, mixed with the tipsy aroma of cherry liqueur and light cream, melted on my tongue. Sweet but not cloying, with surprisingly complex layers of flavor.
This was probably the best Black Forest cake I'd ever had in my life.
My stomach finally stopped complaining under that sweet comfort.
I ate the cake expressionlessly, bite by bite.
"Done." I pushed the empty plate aside and picked up a document from my desk, pretending to start working. "Now, can you leave? Mr. Sterling, I'm very busy."
"I'm busy too." He leaned back in his chair, showing no sign of leaving. "Sterling Group has hundreds of meetings every day, billions of dollars flowing through. But I still came."
"So?"
"So, until our twenty-four hours are up, I'm staying right here with you." He picked up another document about Kateson Industries from my desk and started flipping through it on his own. "Perfect timing—I'd also like to see how the future female leader of Hart Group works."