Chapter 23
James, Franklin, and the receptionist were all flushed, their cheeks as red as a baboon’s behind. Could the cad Ms. Young was ranting about truly be their dignified and graceful CEO?
Seconds later, after some unheard conversation on the phone, Quintessa tossed the device to James, “Let’s go.”
James quickly pocketed the phone, daring not to utter another word, “After you.”
Curiosity sparked within Franklin, and he immediately followed.
Upon reaching the 36th floor, Quintessa saw that Tyrone was indeed in a meeting. The conference room was separated by transparent glass.
The glass walls were soundproof, providing a clear view of Tyrone’s expressions from the outside.
Tyrone sat in his exclusive CEO chair, flanked by department heads. Not another man could dazzle Quintessa’s eyes the way Tyrone did.
She admitted she was a sucker for good looks; for three years, she couldn’t forget Tyrone’s face. Not for anything specific, just because he was that handsome. Handsome enough to shake the soul.
James said, “You see, Mr. York is truly in a meeting. Could you possibly wait a moment?”
Quintessa’s eyes were locked on Tyrone, “How long will it take?”
James hesitated, “I can’t really say.”
Quintessa didn’t want to wait. The sight of Tyrone’s calm and superior demeanor irked her. Why should he sit there so guilt–free after what he had done?
Remembering what Tyrone had done the previous night made Quintessa want to bite him like a damn snake.
With determination, Quintessa pushed the door open, but James quickly interjected, “Ms. Young, please, you can’t go in.”
Quintessa shoved James aside, “I must.”
James didn’t dare to touch Quintessa and could only watch as she brazenly entered the conference room.
The room fell silent the moment Quintessa walked in. Tyrone continued without so much as glancing at Quintessa, “Continue.”
The manager, who was giving the report, quickly resumed, “We’ve conducted extensive market research, and there’s immense potential among the mainstream demographic
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ged 16 to 40. We can tailor our products based on their feedback?
Quintessa stepped closer to Tyrone, who remained stoic, his thin lips barely moving. “This report lacks detall. Draft a more comprehensive one and bring it to my office later.”
Quintessa watched him for a moment, but he showed no reaction, completely absorbed in his work.
Quintessa couldn’t help but laugh. She bent down swiftly, her hand propped against the table, her whole body pressing over Tyrone’s, and taunted, “Mr. York, can you see me now?”
Tyrone continued to ignore Quintessa, tapping on the table to urge the stunned managers, “Proceed.”
Quintessa hooked her finger under Tyrone’s chin, “We’ve slept together; what the hell are you pretending for?”
Tyrone glanced at the low–cut neckline of Quintessa’s blouse. As she leaned over, he could see the hidden curves, and a blush of skin marked with marks like a cherry blossom, enchanting and alluring.
His eyes turned icy, and he slowly pushed Quintessa’s hand away.
“Carry on, who’s next? If this quarter’s priorities aren’t met, no one leaves.”
Quintessa scoffed, nodding her head, “Excellent, Tyrone, don’t push me to extremes.”
Tyrone remained utterly impassive.