Chapter 147
Andrew's POV
I stood outside Wilson Holdings, savoring my evening cigar when I spotted her.
Julie emerged from the building's side entrance. She wore a form-fitting black dress that hugged every curve, her hair styled in loose waves that caught the streetlight. The transformation was... striking.
She slipped into a waiting car - not her usual modest sedan, but something sleek and expensive.
Interesting. It wasn't even close to quitting time.
"Well, well," I murmured, watching the taillights disappear. "The innocent little assistant has claws after all."
I got in my car and followed. I wanted to know what exactly she was up to.
Julie's car pulled up to the Elysium Heights Hotel, one of Starport's most exclusive hotels. I'd followed at a distance, curiosity overriding caution.
She stepped out with fluid grace, the evening air catching her dress as she moved toward the entrance. This wasn't the same woman who brought me coffee and took notes in board meetings. This version was... magnetic.
Dangerous, I corrected myself, loosening my tie. And exactly the kind of distraction I don't need right now.
But I found myself adjusting my hair in the rearview mirror anyway, parking my car and following her inside.
The lobby was all marble and crystal, the kind of opulent setting that screamed serious money. Julie disappeared into one of the private dining rooms, confirming my suspicion that this was business.
I remembered they were recently negotiating with the pharmaceutical project lead. But wasn't Grace supposedly against female employees attending dinner meetings?
My phone was in my hand before I could think twice.
---
Julie's POV
The private dining room felt smaller than expected. A middle-aged man sat across from me, his assistant hovering nearby. No other business partners, no additional stakeholders.
Just us.
"Mr. Sanchez?" I kept my voice light, professional. "I thought I was meeting with your team tonight?"
His eyes traveled over my outfit with obvious appreciation. "My business partner had an emergency. But I'm glad we have this chance to talk privately."
The way he said 'privately' made my skin crawl, but I maintained my smile. This was exactly what I'd expected - and planned for.
He wasn't a legitimate businessman. He was a mid-level manager in the pharmaceutical packaging division who'd been sending me dinner invitations for weeks. I'd declined them all.
I thought back to a few days ago in the Wilson Holdings project department. I was busy with work when Andrew passed by, his gaze drifting toward me. We hadn't had much deep contact before, and our last interaction made me realize - using Andrew wouldn't be easy. Small tricks wouldn't fool him.
Time to use the heavy artillery.
My goal was clear: make Andrew infatuated with me, let him taste being manipulated. At least find his weaknesses to prepare for counterattack.
I'd researched Andrew's business rumors and personal scandals, analyzing his personality traits. Cynical about women yet never maintaining long relationships, arrogant, narcissistic, and competitive. The harder someone is to get, the more obvious their weaknesses. Being a playboy proved he needed stimulating emotional experiences. Arrogant, narcissistic, and competitive meant - making him want and like what he couldn't have would continuously attract his attention.
I minored in psychology in college. Though I lack practical experience, my theoretical foundation is solid.
Today I deliberately let Andrew notice something was off about me. When he passed the project department, I happened to mention tonight's business meeting. Andrew was sensitive to women's figures and clothing, so I specifically changed outfits to attract attention.
If Andrew followed, it would prove I succeeded.
Now Andrew was outside, and the real show could finally begin.
"I appreciate the opportunity," I said carefully. "Though I was hoping to discuss those larger contracts you mentioned."
The man stood, moving closer. "We'll get to business. But first, why don't you call in sick tomorrow? Take a little vacation day?"
His hand reached for my arm. I stepped back quickly, my voice sharpening despite my attempt to stay calm.
"Mr. Sanchez, please maintain professional boundaries. I think there's been a misunderstanding."
His assistant moved to block the door.
That's when the knocking started - urgent, aggressive knocking that escalated to full-blown hammering against the door.
He looked confused, glancing between me and the door. I arranged my features into an expression of innocent bewilderment, though my pulse quickened with anticipation.
The knocking became violent enough that I could hear the door frame rattling.
Right on schedule.
---
Andrew's POV
When the assistant opened the door, I was mid-kick, my foot already committed to the motion. I froze for a split second, then followed through, driving my heel into the man's stomach.
The man's pained groans filled the private dining room as Sanchez's face transformed from fury to recognition, then pure terror.
"Mr. Wilson?" His voice cracked like thin ice. "What are you doing here?"
I let my gaze sweep over him with calculated coldness, savoring the shift in power dynamics.
Julie stood by the table, motionless, her black dress catching the dim light.
"Come here," I said to her, my tone brooking no argument.
She hesitated for a moment before walking to my side. When I slipped my arm around her waist, I felt her symbolic resistance before she yielded against me. The silk of her dress was warm under my palm, and I noticed how the black fabric perfectly outlined every curve. Her subtle perfume was intoxicating—jasmine with hints of vanilla.
"Now then, Sanchez," I continued, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Care to explain why you're having private dinner meetings with company employees? What exactly are your real intentions?"
The man's legs gave out, and he gripped the table edge for support. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stammered apologies.
"Using business partnerships as an excuse to put your hands on my people?" I let the threat hang in the air like smoke. "What do you think the consequences should be, Mr. Sanchez?"