Chapter 43 Team-Building Invitation

Chapter 43 Team-Building Invitation

A wave of grievance and bitterness surged up her throat, choking her so badly she couldn't say a word. She could only stand there, her eyes gradually turning red.

Monica's knuckles turned white as she gripped the dishcloth. She lowered her head, her long hair hiding the moisture gathering in her eyes.

She didn't argue back anymore, just silently poured the remaining porridge into the sink. The sound of the ceramic bowl clattering echoed harshly in the dead-silent morning.

"I'm heading to work now." Her voice was hoarse. Without even glancing at Shane, she turned and hurried into the bedroom to grab her bag.

Shane sat in his seat, staring at the bowl of discarded porridge, his eyes darkening ominously.

He didn't really dislike it. It was just that seeing her so careful and eager to please, yet ready to retreat into her shell at any moment, made that nameless anger burn strangely inside him.

What he wanted was her genuine heart, not this "breakfast" that felt like compensation.

When Monica came out in her work clothes, Shane was already at the entrance changing his shoes.

The two of them got into the elevator one after the other.

In the cramped space, the metal walls reflected their distant figures. Monica stared at the jumping numbers, glancing sideways at Shane several times.

His jawline was tight, his whole body radiating a cold hardness that kept people at arm's length.

She really wanted to ask—since he'd already helped solve her mother's troubles, why was he still treating her with this almost torturous attitude? Was he tired of this push and pull, or did last night's "mistaken identity" kiss make him feel offended?

The words reached her lips but were ultimately swallowed back.

She was afraid that speaking up would lead to another argument, and even more afraid of hearing him say that word—"annoyed."

Walking out of the apartment lobby, Monica hurried toward the curb to hail a cab.

A black Bentley glided precisely in front of her. The window rolled down, revealing Shane's cold, stern face.

"Get in." Two short words, a command that brooked no refusal.

"No need, it's easy for me to get a cab." Monica took a step back, deliberately creating distance.

"Don't make me say it twice." Shane's patience had clearly run out.

Monica stood still, stubbornly turning her head to look at the traffic.

The next second, the car door was pushed open. Shane stepped out with a gust of cold air, and before Monica could react, he grabbed her wrist and half-forced her into the passenger seat.

"Shane, what exactly do you want?" Monica's cheeks flushed red with anger. She struggled to get out, but heard a "click"—the door was locked.

Shane returned to the driver's seat and started the engine without a word.

The car moved fast but steady.

Monica watched the rapidly retreating street scenes outside the window, her tense shoulders gradually slumping.

She couldn't figure out Shane's thoughts—one moment cold as ice, the next forcefully inserting himself into her life. Since she couldn't understand, she simply closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, deciding to go with the flow.

Halfway there, the car stopped beside an old-school roadside stand.

Shane unbuckled his seatbelt and got out. Soon he returned with a paper bag, casually stuffing it into her arms.

"Take it."

Monica opened it in a daze. A rich meaty aroma hit her nose.

It was an American-style hot dog, the bread toasted crispy, the sausage sizzling with oil, slathered with her favorite yellow mustard.

This was her favorite breakfast in college, from the little stand behind the law school's back gate.

"You didn't drink the porridge this morning. Were you planning to make it to your noon meeting on an empty stomach?" Shane kept his eyes on the road, his tone still hard, but his fingers on the steering wheel tapped unconsciously twice.

Monica was indeed hungry. The dull pain in her stomach became even more obvious with this aroma.

She took a bite. The warm food slid down her throat, strangely soothing the anxiety from the morning.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Shane glanced at her sideways, watching her eat in small bites like a little squirrel. The hard line of his lips secretly curved into an extremely faint arc.

The car stopped in front of the law firm building.

Monica had just pushed the door open and was about to straighten her skirt when a delighted call came from behind: "Monica!"

Monica turned around to see her colleague Vivian walking over with coffee.

Vivian was the "gossip hub" of the firm, and also the female colleague Monica had tried to set up with Shane on a blind date last time.

Vivian's gaze fell on the Bentley that hadn't driven away yet, then looked at Monica getting out of the passenger seat, and finally fixed on Shane's exceptionally handsome face. Her mouth formed an "O" shape.

"Wow, Monica, you've been hiding this well!" Vivian hurried over, lowering her voice teasingly. "I wondered why you kept dodging when I tried to set you up on that blind date. Turns out you'd already stashed away this 'catch' for yourself? Is this... your boyfriend dropping you off at work?"

Shane happened to roll down the window at that moment, his gaze deep as it swept toward Vivian. He neither denied nor confirmed.

"Vivian, it's not what you think. We're just..." Monica rushed to explain, her cheeks burning hot.

"Okay, okay, don't explain. Explaining is just covering up." Vivian had an "I get it" look on her face, patting Monica's shoulder. "Since he's so considerate, bring him along to our firm's team-building gathering this weekend."

Monica was about to explain when Shane in the car spoke first, interrupting her conversation with Vivian.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his tone flat, but his gaze passed over Monica and landed on the enthusiastic Vivian.

Vivian immediately seized the opportunity, leaning forward and resting on the car window, smiling like a cat that got the cream: "We're talking about our firm's weekend team-building! Handsome, we're entrusting our Monica to you—you absolutely have to come and back her up!"

After speaking, Vivian winked at Monica, left behind a "I'll head up first, won't disturb you two," and clicked away in her heels into the office building without looking back.

Leaving Monica alone, feeling like she was sitting on pins and needles.

She looked at Shane's expressionless face and frantically tried to cover: "Don't listen to her nonsense. Our team-building... it's a family event, only family members can go."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt guilty.

What was this? Protesting too much?

Shane's face indeed darkened, the pressure around him dropping to a frightening level.

He didn't call out her lie, just coldly curved his lips. When Monica thought he was about to explode, he only threw out a command.

"No drinking."

Monica froze for a moment, then nodded instinctively, obediently agreeing: "Oh, okay."

Having gotten her promise, Shane said nothing more. With a press of the gas pedal, the black Bentley silently merged into traffic.

At the weekend team-building dinner, Monica indeed didn't touch a drop of alcohol.

By the time it ended, it was already late. She declined her colleagues' invitation to continue partying elsewhere and hurried home, eager to return.