Hartwell Enterprises CEO's Office.
As the workday neared its end, Julian Roth sauntered up to Sebastian Hartwell's office, hands stuffed in his pockets and a cocky swagger in his step. A charity gala at The Imperial Hotel was on the evening's agenda, and both Julian—fresh from an early hospital shift—and Sebastian had been invited. Dressed in a tailored white suit that hugged his lean frame, Julian propped himself against the reception desk outside the office, resting his chin in one hand as he unabashedly eyed Sophie Chen up and down.
"Secretary Chen, you're looking as stunning as ever," he purred.
Sophie shot him a sideways glance and forced a polite smile. "Mr. Roth, you flatter me. Compared to Secretary Morgan, I'm hardly a looker."
Julian bit back a laugh. I know Clara Morgan is gorgeous, but she's way out of my league.
At the mention of her name, Clara Morgan frowned and gave Sophie a subtle kick under the desk. "Mr. Roth, CEO Hartwell is still tied up, but should be free soon. Would you like to wait in the lounge? Coffee or tea?"
Julian waved her off. "Nah, I'll stay here and chat with Secretary Chen for a bit."
"…" Clara gave Sophie a good luck look and returned to her computer, leaving Sophie to fend for herself.
Julian turned back to Sophie, his eyes glinting with infatuation. "Heard you're 25, Secretary Chen. Got a boyfriend?"
"Thanks for asking, Mr. Roth. I do," Sophie replied curtly.
"When's the big day? Medically speaking, 25 to 30 is prime childbearing age. Time flies once you hit that mark."
Sophie despised playboys like Julian, and his every word grated on her nerves. "Mr. Roth, I have no plans to have kids," she said, her tone icy.
Just then, Sebastian's intercom buzzed: "Secretary Morgan, my office. Now."
Clara wasn't avoiding Sebastian—she wanted to rescue Sophie from Julian's pestering. She shot Sophie a meaningful glance, and Sophie nodded urgently.
Clara picked up the phone. "CEO Hartwell, I'm tied up at the moment. Can Secretary Chen assist you instead?"
"Negative. I want you," Sebastian barked before hanging up.
Julian nearly laughed out loud. With Clara around, Sebastian would never settle for anyone else.
Clara sighed and stepped into Sebastian's office. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows in a crisp white shirt from a high-end boutique, his back to the door. Even from behind, his tall, muscular frame—broad shoulders, tapered waist—was enough to make most women weak-kneed, but Clara knew better. Behind that polished facade lurked a predator, and wolf in Armani could have been his middle name.
Turning at her entrance, Sebastian pointed to the black suit jacket on the rack. "Help me into this."
Clara fought the urge to roll her eyes. Is he losing motor function, or just being difficult?
When she didn't move, Sebastian arched a brow. "Problem, Secretary Morgan?"
"Not at all, sir. Just… stunned by your charm," Clara lied, forcing a smile as she helped him into the suit.
Sebastian's eyes darkened. He could tell she was bullshitting. When will this woman ever be honest with me?
As Clara adjusted his lapels, her slender fingers brushing the premium fabric, Sebastian felt his heart race. He studied her face—flawless skin, delicate features—and lost control. Suddenly, he pulled her against him, his arm firm around her waist.
"When will you stop lying to me, Clara?" he growled.
Clara smirked, hiding her panic. "What truth do you want, sir?"
His hand slipped under her blouse. "Are you afraid of me?"
Clara nodded. "Terrified."
Sebastian stroked her cheek. "I think I'm falling for you, Secretary Morgan."
His predatory gaze left her speechless. To Clara, I'm falling for you meant I want to devour you.
"Come to the gala with me tonight," he ordered.
"Why me? There are plenty of prettier women," Clara protested.
Sebastian's face darkened. "When have I ever brought a date?"
Before she could respond, he unfastened her bra. "Refuse, and I keep this," he said, tugging at the lace.
Clara was shocked. Who said he was asexual? "CEO Hartwell, show some respect!"
He smirked. "Respect is overrated."
After a brief struggle, Clara gave in. "Fine, I'll go! Let go!"
When she fumbled with her bra clasp, Sebastian helped—then pressed a bruising kiss to her lips, stealing her breath. "Be ready by six. Wear this," he said, tossing her a gift box.
Clara fled the office, blushing and flustered. As she wiped her lips, she couldn't help thinking of Vivian's words: You're going to get yourself killed by Sebastian Hartwell.