Chapter 2

A week had passed since that incident.

During that week, Ryan had made several attempts, both subtle and obvious, to get back into my good graces.

Sometimes it was roses waiting on my desk when I arrived at work. Sometimes it was coffee and pastries delivered when I was tired.

Other times, he deliberately waited outside the office building after work.

I ignored all of it.

“Evie, I understand you’re upset, but enough is enough. You need to know when to stop!”

That day, I was working in my office as usual when Ryan finally lost patience and came to see me during business hours.

He opened with a line straight out of some overbearing-billionaire romance. I kept reading my documents without looking up, my voice cool.

“Office relationships are against company policy. Do you want us both to get fired?”

Ryan shrank back a little.

He couldn’t afford to lose his job. More importantly, he couldn’t afford for his personal cash cow—me—to lose mine. His bravado immediately faded.

I decided not to push too far and offered him a little reassurance.

“What you did was awful. I said I’d forgive you, but don’t I have a right to still be upset?”

That put his mind at ease.

He smiled and settled into the leather chair across from me.

“Evie, you said it yourself. Everyone makes mistakes. Besides, this wasn’t entirely my fault.”

“You’re so obsessed with your career that you won’t even let me kiss you.”

“I’m a normal, healthy man with needs…”

The more he talked, the more convinced he became that he was right.

I listened quietly, sneering inside while arranging my face into a thoughtful expression.

“You’re right, Ryan. But I really don’t have any time or energy to spare. I’m not in the mood, either.”

“I’m only a junior manager. I don’t make that much more than you do.

“You spend a lot, and you send money home to your parents. If I don’t work hard to earn more…”

The moment I mentioned money, Ryan changed his tune.

“I know. That’s why I’ve never forced you, have I?”

“I understand how hard you work. You should try to understand my situation, too…”

He made it all sound so reasonable. Just as he was gearing up for another round of manipulation, his phone vibrated several times.

His expression shifted almost imperceptibly when he read the messages. He muttered, “Something urgent came up,” and hurried away.

I couldn’t have been happier to see him leave. I also had a pretty good idea who had texted him.

Sure enough, by the time darkness fell and I was preparing to work late, Natalie sent me several pictures.

A trash can overflowing with suspiciously crumpled tissues. Torn lingerie scattered across the floor.

And Natalie, flushed and smug, cuddled against a sleeping Ryan.

“Evelyn, ever since we were kids, I’ve always gotten whatever I wanted!”

Her provocative message stirred absolutely nothing in me. If anything, I wanted to laugh.

I wasn’t afraid of Natalie fighting me for him. I was afraid she might lose interest.

After a moment’s thought, I decided to add fuel to the fire.

“Ryan’s a person, not a possession. Come talk to me when you’ve actually won him over!”

She didn’t reply, but I knew I’d lit a fire under her.

I wasn’t worried about Natalie disappointing me. After all, she’d been right about one thing.

Ever since we were little, whenever she wanted something I had, she’d do whatever it took to steal it.

I was used to it. That didn’t mean I intended to give in forever.

Pushing unimportant people and problems out of my mind, I threw myself into work.

It was late into the night when I finally stretched, rubbed my tired, stinging eyes, and got up to pack my things.

When the elevator doors opened, I saw someone I hadn’t expected.

My boss stood alone in the empty elevator, tall and straight-backed, his unsmiling face practically warning everyone to stay away.

He merely raised an eyebrow at the sight of me.

I pressed my lips together, debating whether to wait for the next elevator. Before I could decide, he reached out with his long fingers and pressed the door-open button.

“What are you standing there for? Get in.”

His familiar tone came in a low, rich voice. Awkwardly gripping my backpack strap, I forced myself to step inside.

“Thank you…”

The doors closed. Before I could finish thanking him, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around my waist from behind.

He buried his head against my neck, his voice muffled and wounded. “Since when are you so formal with me?”