Chapter 88 Worthless
Selena's POV
I saw her.
Taisia.
That red dress of hers was so tight it looked ready to burst off her body, and her heavy makeup couldn't hide the jealousy and madness on her face.
Truly ugly.
Royce was on the phone, his brow furrowed, clearly annoyed with this thing clinging to him.
Then, he saw me.
His gaze moved past Taisia and locked firmly onto me.
I got out of the car and closed the door.
I didn't rush over. Why should I? This was his company, his territory, the trash at his door—naturally, he should clean it up himself.
Royce hung up the phone.
I saw Taisia looking up at him, saying something, her face wearing that self-satisfied flirtatious expression I'd seen countless times before.
Taisia seemed to have lost it. She lunged forward, grabbing Royce's sleeve tightly, and started crying and screaming hysterically.
I finally started walking. My heels struck the smooth marble floor with crisp, rhythmic sounds.
Step by step, toward the center of that farce.
Taisia saw me.
Her crying stopped abruptly, and those eyes shot out venom like a snake's.
"Selena!" She screamed my name. "You thief! You liar! Everything you have should be mine!"
Same old lines. Completely unoriginal.
Just as she was about to lunge at me, Royce moved.
He jerked his arm sharply, the motion carrying undisguised disgust, and shook Taisia off violently.
"Let go."
His voice was emotionless.
Taisia, in those ridiculous heels, couldn't keep her balance. She stumbled backward several steps and fell hard on her butt.
What a show.
Royce looked down at the sleeve Taisia had grabbed, his frown deepening.
Then he did something that made everyone present gasp.
He took off his obviously expensive, custom-tailored suit jacket and casually threw it on the ground, like tossing out garbage.
"The difference between you and her?" He looked down at Taisia sitting collapsed on the ground, a cruel smile playing at his lips. "The difference is, she's the heir to Hart Group, priceless."
He paused, his stare tearing through my 'dear sister' facade.
"And you," he said, "are worthless."
With that, he didn't spare her another glance and walked straight toward me.
He stood beside me, using his body to separate me from that pile of trash on the ground, forming a clear boundary.
Two security guards quickly stepped forward, grabbing the still-crying and cursing Taisia from both sides, and dragged her away like a dead dog.
The whole world instantly became quiet.
Royce turned to look at me. The coldness from moments ago had vanished from his face, replaced by that damned gentle smile again.
"Sorry," he said, his voice low, "for making you see something unclean."
"Your company's security system really needs an upgrade," I responded expressionlessly. "Any trash can get in."
"You're right." He actually nodded in agreement, then his gaze slowly moved from my face down to his pants.
When Taisia fell, she seemed to have touched his pant leg.
His brow furrowed again.
"She touched my pants." He stated this matter-of-factly, his tone carrying that natural germophobia and disgust. "I think... I need to change them."
I raised an eyebrow, looking at him.
What was he doing? Performing his innocence for me?
"So?" I asked.
"So, I'd like to invite my fiancée upstairs to my office," he stepped forward, closer to me, that familiar woody scent instantly surrounding me, "to supervise me changing into clean pants. And while you're at it, enjoy the view."
His voice dropped very low, carrying a naked suggestion and flirtation that only the two of us could understand.
My heart skipped a beat beyond my control.
This bastard.
He always knew how to use the most direct, most shameless way to disrupt my heartbeat.
I looked into those deep eyes, which clearly reflected my image.
I saw the anticipation in his eyes, and a hint of confident certainty.
He was waiting for my answer.
"Sure." I heard my own voice, unnaturally calm. "I'd like to see if the view from Mr. Sterling's office is really that good."
He smiled.
That smile, like a lion that had caught its prey—satisfied and dangerous.
He said nothing more, just made a "please" gesture, then walked alongside me into the magnificent doors of Sterling Group.
Behind us, his suit jacket thrown on the ground had already been picked up with tongs by an assistant in a black suit, looking disgusted, and placed into a black garbage bag.
I could feel that from the moment we entered the doors, countless eyes fell on us.
Shocked, curious, probing.
Royce completely ignored those gazes.
He walked me, as if no one else existed, into his private elevator.
The elevator doors closed, cutting off all the outside stares.
In the confined space, only the two of us remained.
"Were you jealous just now?" he suddenly asked.
"Jealous?" I sounded like I'd heard the biggest joke. "Jealous of a loser who got thrown out like garbage?"
"No," he shook his head, those eyes seeming to see through my soul. "You were jealous that she could throw herself at me without restraint, cry to me, make a scene."
My breathing paused for a second.
"And you can't." He moved closer, his warm breath brushing against my ear, sending a shiver through me.
"Because you're Selena Hart. You're proud, you're composed, you would never let yourself show such a loss of control." His voice was like a devil's whisper, full of temptation.
"You're afraid, Selena."
"Afraid of what?" My voice was somewhat dry.
"Afraid of losing control," his fingertips gently touched the shawl on my shoulder, the gesture carrying an extreme tenderness and possessiveness. "Afraid of exposing your truest self in front of me."The elevator arrived.
The doors slowly opened.
"We're at my office," he stepped back, the smile at his lips deepening. "Do you want to see the view first, or watch me change my pants?"