Chapter 89 Changing Pants?
Selena's POV
Enjoy the view, or watch him change his pants?
I tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"Mr. Sterling, I'm not interested in your wardrobe," I said flatly. "Unless you think your pants are more spectacular than the entire city skyline."
His smile deepened.
"That depends on how you define 'spectacular.'" He said in a low voice, then stepped back to make way for me.
"Well, nice view," I commented.
"I prefer the view in my office." He walked to the bar, poured two glasses of whiskey, and handed one to me.
I didn't take it.
"I don't drink, especially during work hours."
"This isn't work hours," he placed the glass on the coffee table in front of me. "This is our date time."
That matter-of-fact tone again.
I was almost amused by my irritation.
"I thought I was here to supervise you changing your pants," I reminded him.
"Of course." Completely unfazed by my sarcasm, he pointed to a door behind his desk. "My lounge is over there. You're welcome to come in and 'supervise' anytime."
With that, he actually picked up his glass and walked toward the lounge.
I stood there, not moving.
Was he inviting me?
I stared at the closed door, listening to the faint sounds coming from inside.
My brain, beyond my control, started imagining what was happening behind that door.
Him unbuckling his belt, taking off those "contaminated" suit pants, revealing...
Damn it.
I shook my head hard, forcing myself to drive those messy images out of my mind.
I walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window and looked down at the city below.
I needed to calm down.
Just then, there was a knock on the office door.
"Where's Royce?" A man asked in an elder's tone, with a questioning edge.
I couldn't even be bothered to answer him.
Royce's voice came from the lounge. He had already changed into dark gray casual pants, still holding his whiskey glass, and walked out leisurely. "Didn't my assistant tell you I was with someone?"
The gentleman's expression changed. He glanced at Royce, then at me, the contempt in his eyes growing thicker.
"I'm just here to remind you that this afternoon's video conference with the European bank is important. I don't want you to affect the group's decisions because of some... unnecessary 'distractions.'"
When he said the word "distractions," his gaze pierced me like needles.
Oh, I get it.
He took me for one of those women who trade their looks and bodies for benefits.
Before I could speak, Royce laughed.
That smile was cold.
"First, let me correct your mistake. This is Selena Hart, heir to Hart Group, and also my fiancée. She's not a 'distraction.'"
The man's face instantly turned deathly pale.
"Fi... fiancée?" His lips trembled, unable to believe his ears.
"Second," Royce's voice grew colder, "I hope you remember who makes the decisions at Sterling Group. And who signs your paycheck."
"Now, take your 'reminder' and get out of my office. Before I change my mind and have you thrown out of this building entirely," Royce said coolly.
The office fell quiet again.
"Looks like your company has quite a bit of trash that needs cleaning out too," I pulled away from his arm, putting distance between us.
"Soon it'll be 'our' company." He started with that line that infuriated me again.
I couldn't be bothered to argue with him anymore.
"View's done, 'supervision' is over. Mr. Sterling, I need to get back to my own company." With that, I headed for the elevator.
"I'll take you."
"No need." I walked toward the elevator without looking back.
Back at Hart Group, I took the elevator straight to the top floor.
Anna was already waiting at my office door.
I had just cleaned up Robert's mess yesterday, and today someone else wanted to take advantage.
Did they think I, Selena Hart, was some fool they could easily deceive?
"Have them come to my office," I said, pushing open the office door.
"Now?"
"Right now."
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
A slightly overweight, shrewd-looking middle-aged man walked in with a younger man whose eyes kept darting around nervously.
"Ms. Hart, you wanted to see us?"
I didn't speak, just leaned back in my executive chair, lightly tapping my fingers on the desk.
I was sizing them up.
The manager, Max Scott. He'd worked under my father for nearly ten years, considered a veteran employee. The team leader beside him, Levi, was his handpicked protégé.
"Ms. Hart, have you reviewed the production line upgrade report?" Seeing my silence, he spoke up again. "This is really urgent. The parts from our current supplier are substandard and are already affecting the quality rate of our latest batch of products..."
He kept talking, packaging himself as a loyal servant anxious for the company's interests.
What a performance.
I picked up the remote on my desk and pressed a button.
The huge display screen on the wall opposite me lit up.
At first, just darkness.
Then, a voice came through the speakers.
"...What's there to be afraid of! That little girl doesn't know shit! All she knows is playing with her flowers and plants! The production line is still ours to control!"
His smile froze instantly.
The recording continued.
"But manager, what if she finds out..." This was Levi the team leader's voice, full of anxiety.
"Finds out? How would she find out? By the time she does, the contract will be signed and the money in our accounts! Even if she wants to investigate then, it'll be too late!"
"Besides, a little girl who just came back, how capable can she be? Robert fell into her hands because he was stupid! If we do this cleanly, no one will know!"
"Then... should we really switch those parts? I heard that supplier gives high kickbacks, but the quality... is terrible. Using them on the production line could easily cause accidents..."
"An accident would be perfect!" His voice turned vicious and malicious. "Best if it happens when she's inspecting the production line! Let her suffer too! A little girl actually thinks she's a queen? This is Hart Group, not her garden playground!"
The recording ended abruptly there.
I looked at the two men in front of me.
Their faces had lost all color, white as sheets of paper.