Chapter 77 Love at First Sight
"Am I not stating facts?" Scarlett's tone was light, tinged with indifference.
Ambrose rose to his feet, hostility radiating from him as he closed the distance between them.
"Facts? The fact that you're dying to cut ties with me—that's what you call reasonable?"
Scarlett met Ambrose's furious gaze, her pulse stuttering nervously. If he lost it and did something rash, she wouldn't be able to handle the fallout.
Besides, she'd come here with colleagues tonight. If they caused a scene, she'd never be able to explain.
"I'm here with coworkers tonight. Whatever this is, we can discuss it privately." Scarlett stepped back, trying to put distance between them.
Ambrose caught the fear flickering in her eyes. His tongue swept across his teeth before he nodded curtly. "After the party. We're settling this."
With that, Ambrose turned and walked away, his imposing figure radiating anger even from behind.
She frowned, confused. She'd only stated facts—why was he acting like this?
What exactly did he want from her?
Did he... like her?
Impossible. Someone like Ambrose, with his status and wealth, couldn't possibly fall for a divorced woman with a kid. Though granted, he had a son himself, so neither of them could claim moral high ground.
But they'd barely known each other that long. Love at first sight? She didn't buy it.
With his intelligence, he wouldn't fall head over heels for anyone. Unless... did he want her to become his mistress?
The thought sent ice through her veins. Had she jumped from one disaster straight into another?
Scarlett returned to the private room with these thoughts swirling in her mind. The space had filled with more people since she'd left.
Heath was introducing the newcomers. After a round of introductions, dinner began.
Everyone raised their glasses, exchanging polite welcome toasts. Glass after glass went down.
The liquor was strong. Though there were fewer women than men at the table, the male colleagues were considerate enough not to pressure the women to drink excessively.
But tonight was specifically to welcome Scarlett and her team, so naturally she drank more than the other women—three full glasses of hard liquor.
Scarlett couldn't hold her alcohol well. After three glasses, her head was already swimming. When others came to toast her, she declined.
"I've hit my limit. I'll substitute water for wine."
"Ms. Mellon, that won't do. You drank alcohol with everyone else, but you'll only drink water with me? That's not exactly fair, is it?"
A male colleague was clearly picking a fight.
Scarlett understood perfectly—these people were deliberately making things difficult for her. But she wasn't someone who could be pushed around.
"The Boleyn Group is such a major company, yet there's apparently a culture of pressuring people to drink—and among colleagues, no less. Those who know might think the company culture is toxic. Those who don't might assume this is intentional harassment."
The moment Scarlett finished speaking, Heath jumped in to smooth things over. "Max, there are twenty-something people here. One drink each—you think one woman can handle that? Let's call it good."
The man called Max snorted coldly. "If she can't handle it, she should've stuck with water from the start. Every new hire gets toasted by everyone. Does she think she's special? Getting special treatment at work is one thing, but at the dinner table, it doesn't work that way!"
Scarlett caught his meaning loud and clear. Max was being indirect, but his point was obvious—someone was jealous of her position.
She smiled, composed and calm. "Is that actually a rule in the design department?"
"Rule or not, I don't know, but all our new hires toast every single colleague." Max remained stubborn.
One toast per colleague? He really had the nerve to say that.
They could say it, but she didn't have to believe it.
"If you toast every person here, one by one, right in front of me, I'll do the same. Deal?" Scarlett looked at him steadily, her gaze unwavering.
Max was momentarily thrown. "I already went through that when I started. This is your turn now."
"You say you did it, but I didn't see it. For all I know, you're lying."
In other words, she'd only believe it if she saw it with her own eyes.
Max glanced at Heath. After receiving a subtle signal, he said, "Ms. Mellon, don't abuse your special privileges and throw your weight around here. We've all been through this, right guys?"
After his question, voices from the crowd responded, "That's right."
Scarlett's head was already fuzzy from the alcohol, but seeing them band together like this made it crystal clear—her position had stepped on someone's toes. And that someone was probably Heath.
She suddenly looked over at him. Heath was looking back at her. This time, he didn't speak up for her. He simply waited for her response.
"Mr. Rivera, is tonight's dinner party actually targeting me?"
"Ms. Mellon, where did you get that idea? Everyone's just having a good time. No one's targeting anyone. The design department genuinely has this tradition."
Heath's smile didn't reach his eyes.
Scarlett turned to look at her team members. They all wore expressions of wanting to speak but holding back. She wouldn't put them in a difficult position. She smiled.
"Alright then. In that case, let me take the initiative. Why don't we call everyone in the entire company over, and I'll toast them one by one to demonstrate how thrilled I am to join the company?"
Everyone's expressions tensed. All eyes turned to Heath. His heart skipped a beat. If they called the whole company over, and upper management found out, his career would be over.
"Ms. Mellon, this is an internal design department matter. Why drag other departments into it?"
"The design department has such interesting traditions—we should let the whole company know about them. Who knows, maybe they'll catch on company-wide. The design department would become famous."
As she spoke, she reached for her phone.
"I'll call HR and have them notify everyone in the company to come receive my toasts."
Heath realized Scarlett wasn't joking. Not knowing who had sent her or what connections she had, he worried that if this reached upper management and caused trouble, it wouldn't be worth it. He quickly intervened.
"Ms. Mellon, I think you've had too much to drink and aren't thinking clearly. Why don't you head home early and rest?"
Scarlett paused mid-motion, seizing the opportunity. "I have had quite a bit to drink, and I am a little tipsy. But I can't break tradition. I still need to toast everyone. Unless I substitute water for wine?"
Heath had no choice but to agree. Scarlett ended up toasting everyone with water.
Even drinking water, after a full round, her stomach was bloated, and she desperately needed the restroom. But someone was using the private room's bathroom, so she headed to the public restroom outside.
"Scarlett comes in and immediately butts heads with Mr. Rivera. Who's backing her?" A woman's voice suddenly drifted into the stall from the sink area.
"I heard it's Mr. Boleyn himself," another woman murmured.
"But doesn't Mr. Boleyn avoid women? He has that rule about no women at his business dinners."
"Men say they avoid women on the surface, but that's only because they haven't found the right one yet. Once they're interested, who knows how wild they get in private. Scarlett is so stunning that even I can't look away, let alone a man. Mr. Boleyn might be privileged and powerful, but he's still a man."
"Scarlett plays the brilliant scholar card, but I bet she's just brilliant at other things—bedroom things. Otherwise, how could she possibly catch Mr. Boleyn's eye?"
Hearing this, Scarlett flushed the toilet, then stepped out of the stall and walked directly toward the gossiping women.