As soon as Tony released her from his arms, Myra backed away and put some distance between the both of them. She kept her eyes on him, wary of his every move.
Her thoughts tumbled over one another as she struggled to come up with a reason for what Tony had done. She allowed the possibility that he might have been misled by her the last time, when he thought that she was one of those women who slept their way into procuring a project, but this time was different!
He was not drunk—in fact, he looked more sober than she was. His advances tonight were neither those of harmless flirting nor good-natured teasing. If Myra didn’t know any better, she would think he was…
But he knows I’m married, she countered herself.
Myra wanted to run out of the room, afraid of what might happen if she continued staying with him in there. However, just as she passed him, he reached out and gently squeezed her backside.
She stiffened at this and turned to shoot him a deadly glare. A lazy, devilish smile played on his lips as he looked at her, and she bristled.
This… this rogue! Myra was infuriated. How could she not have known this side of him? She had thought of him as a gentleman, but it turned out that his cold and distant façade was nothing more than a sham!
“Don’t you have any self-respect, Director Hart?” she hissed through gritted teeth, clearly outraged at his behavior.
Upon seeing the anger in her eyes, Tony merely nodded and drawled, “As you said, we shouldn’t keep the others waiting. Let’s go.”
With that, he turned and made his way toward the stairs, as though nothing ever happened between them.
Myra wanted to punch a wall. She bit her lip, feeling the resentment and rage building up in her.
As if knowing that she did not follow him, Tony paused and turned slightly, eyeing her nonchalantly. It seemed as if he was waiting for her to catch up to him.
However, Myra drew in a deep breath and surveyed him icily, then walked in the opposite direction to where the elevators were. She had no desire to spend another minute in his company.
He watched her storm away from him, his eyes glinting with amusement.
When she returned to the private dining room, she saw that Tony was already back in his seat. Tilly was flushed as she leaned forward, her face close to Myra’s as she asked curiously, “Myra… did someone piss you off? Why do you look so upset?”
Myra had no intention to share the details of what happened in the changing room, so she smiled tightly and answered, “I ran into a rogue, is all.”
As she said this, she felt a certain piercing gaze directed at her but she pretended otherwise.
“Hey, Myra, since my dreamboat is here, you should have him take care of that rogue for you!” Tilly was clearly inebriated and her words came tumbling out in slurs, but her lack of a filter only served to aggravate Myra even more.
If only Tilly knew that the rogue was none other than the dreamboat himself. How can I be naïve enough to think that a man like Tony is so rare a find in Bradfort City?
And what about that lover of his that he mentioned?
At this, Myra grew even more frustrated. She grabbed a glass of wine, but stopped herself when she remembered that Tilly was already drunk. Before this, she might have thought that she and Tilly would be safe as long as Tony was around, but his charming illusion was shattered, and Myra simply couldn’t afford to lower her inhibitions any further.
It was clear that those from the Hart Group were far better at holding their drinks, seeing as they were still standing and sober after dinner despite all the alcohol they had had.
Meanwhile, Myra had an arm around Tilly as they headed out of the room, but she fumbled under the latter’s drunken weight. In the end, Leo rushed over and helped her carry Tilly into the back seat of the car.
Having settled the ever-nagging Tilly into the backseat, Myra let out a huff of relief. She was about to get into the car when a deep male voice spoke up from somewhere. “Why didn’t you text me back last night?”
There were a couple of manager-types from Hart Group who were within earshot, and seeing as Tony didn’t even try to lower his voice, they all heard what he said.
While they did not glance over, Myra could tell that their ears had pricked up in an attempt to listen in on any conversation that might ensue. The anger in her was ignited once more as she answered coldly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Director Hart.”
Presently, Tony held a cigarette between his slender fingers. He was standing by the entrance of the Ritz Carlton, his imposing appearance and defined features already causing passersby to turn their heads to steal a glance at him.
Myra slid into the backseat of the car, not wanting to be stared at like a monkey in a zoo. She reached out to close the door, but Tony had come up to the car and was gazing down at her with a raised brow. She looked at him incredulously, wondering if he was being deliberately vexing. He exhaled and the smoke unfurled around her as he asked, “Then why did you call me last night, Miss Stark?”
Upon hearing his emphasis on the words ‘last night’, Myra stiffened and inhaled sharply.
She flushed all the way to her neck. Tony was definitely trying to flirt with her in front of everyone else!
“I didn’t call you last night; I called you yesterday afternoon!” she argued.
“Oh—is that right? So why did you call me then?”
He sounded deadpan as he asked the question, as though he enjoyed provoking her. Her chest rose and fell angrily, and she had no idea how she should respond. She had called him yesterday to thank him for all his help. However, seeing she had done that at dinner just now—coupled with the fact that he had kissed and groped her—she found it impossible to utter the words ‘thank you’ again.
When she did not answer, he offered placidly, “Do you not wish to talk about it in front of everyone else? That’s fine; you can call me tonight.”
How dare he act all innocent like this after the things he had done to her? She glared at him murderously, her chest tightening painfully as rage filled her. When Tony shifted away, she pulled the car door shut with a bang. Without sparing him another glance, she asked the chauffeur to drive away.
“Myra, were you arguing with my dreamboat?” Tilly slurred between hiccups, scooting close to assess her with bright eyes.
Myra pressed her lips into a grim line and refused to speak, clearly beside herself with rage.
At the sight of this, Tilly beamed before she added drunkenly, “So this is how you look when you’re angry… You know, Myra, you used to… you used to always look like you have a lot of resentment pent up in you, and you always looked so down…”
Upon hearing this, Myra stiffened.
Tilly pouted as she continued, “Myra, I think… I think you and Dreamboat Tony are made for each other.”
Myra’s face darkened and she reached out to pat the other girl on the head. “Did you forget that I’m married?”
Tilly grinned like an idiot. “You can always get a divorce. Besides, you never talk about your husband anyway—he must be horrible to you!”
Myra froze and the light seemed to go out of her eye.
Is Sean horrible to me?
A bitter smile played on her lips. Tilly’s right—he does treat me horribly.
But there was nothing she could do about it. She was married to him and she liked him, even though he despised her.
The Chase Group was already starting work on the Sunny Bay Project, and they were putting in every bit of effort in order to pave their way into more real estate projects. Now that they had gone through all the building materials and done all the advertising work, they only needed to wait and see how the first stage of construction would turn out.
The weekend flew by and Myra was back to a busy schedule on Monday.
At four in the afternoon, Richard dropped by to see her. It was only then that she remembered what Sean had told her last week—he had asked her to attend Old Master’s Hart birthday banquet with him.
But after their big fight the other night, she wondered if he still wanted her to go with him to the banquet.
“Are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake, Richard?” Myra asked flatly, lowering her gaze.
Richard pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and said mildly, “There’s no mistake, Miss Myra. Director Chase has asked me to escort you to the atelier so that you may try on your dress for tonight. It’s Old Master Hart’s birthday banquet after all, and Director Chase insists on making an entrance with you. These are his exact instructions.”
