Chapter 136 My Angel | 029
NOELLE
The syllabus slides onto the projector with a soft click, white text against a blue background. I squint up at it, my pen already poised over my notebook.
Final Assessment – 40%
Executive Operations Field Study
My stomach tightens.
Dr. Kang adjusts her glasses and smiles as if she's about to announce something fun. She always does that. I honestly think she enjoys watching her students panic.
"This semester and the next," she says, "you'll be conducting a real-world executive analysis. It won't be theoretical or hypothetical. I want exposure. I want proximity."
A few students murmur excitedly. Someone behind me whispers, "Oh hell yes."
I don't speak. I just listen.
"You'll be assigned a senior executive—preferably a CEO or managing director—of an active corporation. Your task is to observe, interview, and document how leadership operates under pressure. You'll take note of decision-making, authority, crisis management, and power dynamics."
My fingers curl tighter around my pen.
"You'll submit weekly reports. Minimum of ten in-person visits. Shadowing is encouraged."
Ten.
My breathing quickens.
"Now," Dr. Kang continues, tapping the clicker again, "normally you'd source your own executives. But due to time constraints and generous cooperation from several partners, we've pre-approved placements."
The slide changes.
A list of company logos fills the screen. My breath catches in my throat.
Lakewood Group is front and center.
The logo is sleek and familiar in a way that makes goosebumps rise on my skin. I tell myself it's just a coincidence. But then, I see the name beneath the logo.
Executive Lead: Azren M. Lakewood, CEO
The pen slips from my fingers and clatters softly against the desk. Holy shit.
Please tell me it's not what I'm thinking.
Someone whistles.
"Damn," a guy in the front row mutters. "Isn't he, like... untouchable?"
Dr. Kang chuckles. "Brilliant, actually. And extremely selective. Which is why only one student will be assigned to him."
My throat goes dry.
I don't look up. I already know.
"Noelle."
The sound of my name snaps the air tight around my chest. I lift my head slowly, like I'm surfacing from deep water.
Dr. Kang is smiling at me.
"You'll be working with Mr. Lakewood."
Everyone turns to look at me. My heart slams so hard it hurts.
"I—" My voice comes out weak. "I wasn't aware I'd applied for—"
"You didn't," she interrupts gently. "The placement was requested."
I swallow hard. "By... him?"
Her smile widens. "By his office, yes. They were very specific."
Holy shit. Is this what my husband meant by 'see you soon'?
My phone buzzes in my bag like it's laughing at me.
Dr. Kang keeps talking.
"He's agreed to full access within reason. Interviews. Observation. Shadowing. You'll be reporting directly to his executive assistant for scheduling."
Shadowing.
I feel heat creep up my spine. I nod because everyone is watching and because I don't trust myself to speak.
I can picture him now, leaning back in that massive leather chair, making one phone call to the dean.
But that's fine.
He thinks he's controlling the access? No. He's handing me the keys to his sanity.
By the end of the semester, he won't just remember who pushed who down the stairs. He'll remember exactly who he belongs to. And Sabrina? That bitch will become a footnote.
I smile to myself.
Game on, husband.
...
I arrive at Lakewood Group HQ at 1:17 p.m., my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.
I'm not ready.
I didn't have time to plan an outfit, rehearse lines, or steel myself for whatever version of Azren I'm about to face. I'm still in the same emerald dress from this morning.
The receptionist—a beautiful woman in her thirties with perfect posture—looks up and smiles as though she's been expecting me.
"Miss Kennedy," she says. "Mr. Lakewood is waiting. This way."
She leads me past glass-walled conference rooms and whispering employees who pretend not to stare. I keep my chin up, pretending that I belong here.
She knocks on the double doors at the end of the hall, then she opens them.
"Miss Noelle Kennedy for you, sir."
And there he is.
Azren stands at the floor-to-ceiling window, hands in the pockets of his tailored black suit, his back to me.
The city sprawls behind him. When he turns, the afternoon light catches the sharp line of his jaw and the way his dark hair falls just slightly over his forehead. He looks every inch the untouchable CEO he is. So devastatingly beautiful it hurts to breathe.
His eyes meet mine.
They're so blue. And so, so cold.
"Miss Noelle," he says. "Thank you for coming."
The receptionist leaves quietly, closing the doors behind her.
The room feels smaller instantly.
I lift my chin. "You requested for me."
He doesn't smile. He just gestures to the chair in front of his desk.
"Sit."
I walk forward slowly. Taking a deep breath, I sit, crossing my legs so the slit parts just enough to show my thigh. His gaze darts down briefly before returning to my face.
He rounds the desk and leans back against it, his arms crossed, towering over me.
"Explain," he says.
I tilt my head. "Explain what?"
"This morning. The little performance from this morning," his deep voice rumbles, the sound sending hot sparks shooting through my blood.
“You wanted my attention. You have it now. So tell me, Miss Noelle, what game are you playing?"
I meet his stare without flinching.
"Why? Does it bother you, honey?"
In one fluid motion he's in front of me.
He spins my chair so I'm facing him fully, his hands braced on the armrests, caging me in. His face is inches from mine. I can smell the intoxicating mix of his cologne and his scent. They complement each other so well, leaving me dizzy and dazed. I want to touch him so bad.
"What. Game. Are you playing?" he repeats, his voice lethal.
I don't blink.
"I'm playing the good wife," I whisper. "Exactly like I promised."
His eyes darken. He's so fucking sexy like this. I want him to wreck me.
"You think this is a game you can win?" He drawls.
I flash him a smile.
"I think," I say, leaning in until my lips almost brush his, "that you're already losing."
The air between us crackles with electricity, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
His hand moves, his fingers skimming the back of my chair, drifting towards my chin.
I catch his wrist before he can touch me. He freezes.
Then I turn my head slowly, meeting his eyes.
"You told me not to touch you," I utter. "Remember? You can’t touch me either."
His pupils dilate, black swallowing the blue. But then they expand again. It seems the spell is fighting so hard.
He throws his head back and laughs. The sound is unhinged and dark, wrapping around me like smoke.
And Heaven help me, despite being on my period, that sound makes me grow wet instantly.
"Oh, Angel," he breathes when the laugh dies, his voice thick with something feral. "You're being a very bad girl."
I pout slowly.
"Am I?" I whisper. "Are you going to punish me, husband?"
His pupils dilate again. For one second I see the real Azren behind the haze. I see his hunger, guilt, and desperate need.
Then the glitter snaps back.
He leans in closer, his lips hovering over mine, not touching.
"You have no idea," he murmurs, his voice ragged, "how badly I want to bend you over this desk right now and show you exactly what happens to bad girls who tease me."
My breath hitches. Heat floods low in my belly, my thighs clenching hard enough to ache.
"But," he continues, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes, "you wanted professional. So we'll be professional."
He straightens, steps away, and adjusts his cufflinks like nothing happened.
But I can already see it. His stubborn boner.
“I’m going shopping today,” I tell him just as he turns away. “I’ll be going with my friend, just in case. He’s very nice.”
Every muscle in his body instantly goes rigid, clearly visible under his suit.
Then he turns, his right eye twitching. “Repeat that.”
I give him a smile. “I said, I’m going shopping and—”
“No,” he growls. “Not that part. You’re going shopping with a HE?”
“Yes. Why? Is something wrong?”