Bernice Christian looked different from the version from that night, more...intimidating. With the black suit and dark gray shirt he's wearing today, he exudes an aura of taller, darker danger. But none of that matters. What's important is that what happened at the strip club last week should fade into the memories of everyone involved. Not become some kind of lurking threat. He glanced toward me. I immediately held my breath, and then he gave a faint smile. Not one of those polite, distant smiles. He acted as if we knew each other. Hell, no. He recognized me. And he acted like an asshole. What did he mean? Elina suddenly came up next to me, "Come with me." Her face was somber. And I quickly figured out why. Fed was pouring himself glass after glass of brandy. He looked like his self-esteem had been damaged by his father. "Son, your father wouldn't like you sitting at the dinner table drunk." Elina snatched the glass out of Fed's hand. Fed stood up unhappily, "He wo
Bernice I almost jumped. "You look scared of me," Christian Miller's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the lean strength of his forearms. His lips, so beautifully shaped, had curled into a smile that didn't reach his steel-gray eyes, which seemed to see right through me. "No," I'd replied, my voice steady despite the tremor in my heart, "of course not. I'm just preoccupied with disposing of this... medical waste." His smile had widened, a cat to my mouse, as he'd closed the distance between us. "I'm quite certain the maid is more than capable of handling such tasks," he'd murmured, his breath warm against my cheek. A shiver of unease had run down my spine. I'd forced a laugh as I'd taken a step back, desperately trying to put some distance between us. "You're right. How could I have overlooked that? I should return to the dinner table." As I'd tried to get past him, Christian's hand had taken mine, his grip tight and unyielding. He'd pulled me toward him, our
Christian As I entered Aaron's study, the rich scent of leather and aged wood enveloped me, a familiar yet unsettling aroma that transported me back to countless childhood moments spent in this very room. Aaron sat behind his sprawling mahogany desk, his expression an inscrutable mask as he motioned for me to take a seat across from him. I settled into the plush leather chair, my posture straight and unyielding, a silent declaration of my resolve. The air between us crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken agendas and long-buried resentments hanging heavy in the space. "Christian, my son," Aaron began, his tone deliberate and measured, each word carefully chosen for maximum impact. "Your return as CEO of Miller Corporation is a momentous occasion. But to secure the company's future, I need you to liquidate all your assets and invest the proceeds into the business." I met his gaze head-on, my own eyes unwavering. "I agreed to lead the company, but I won't compromise my fi
Bernice Lying in bed, I pondered my plans. Becoming the Executive Assistant to the CEO of the Miller Organization meant that I would have direct access or involvement in the company's high-level decisions and sensitive information. However, Christian Miller is an enigmatic man; although he proposed a so-called "collaboration," I couldn't be sure how much authority he would grant me or if he truly trusted me. Not to mention I still had to deal with Fed, who was orchestrating everything behind the scenes. I jumped out of bed and turned on my computer. I typed Christian's name in the search bar. Not much information came up, showing that he was very protective of his personal information. However, I did get one lead; Christian Miller at an honorary lecture at Harvard Business School. I clicked on the link and couldn't help but laugh; the iconic Christian Miller. He was dressed in a gray-blue designer suit, a crisp white shirt-obviously both masterfully tailored-and more dazzling
Bernice I suppress the disgust in my heart, Melissa is a professional at slandering others. Thanks to her, I have seen it many times in my past life. I said coldly, "He's just a friend from my college days. Melissa grinned triumphantly, "Sister, my friends and I are here to celebrate my promotion. What about you? Don't you have to go back and make dinner?" The girls with her laughed mockingly after she spoke. I stood up, "The maid will take care of everything at home. Melissa, Eorna is by invitation only, I didn't know you were a member here." I saw a crack in Melissa's facade and I was sure she was taking advantage of the Fed's privileges. "What's the matter? Can't you answer your sister's question?" Cathy appeared from behind, "Melissa, you didn't accept an invitation from a married man, did you?" Melissa's face turned ugly, "Crazy bitch! Miller Corporation has officially hired me as Fed's new assistant. I don't need anyone's permission to be here." Cathy snorted and I he
Bernice As I stepped through the polished revolving doors of Miller Corporation, the clack of my heels echoed off the marble floors. The nerves were there, a silent hum under my calm exterior, but I felt ready. I studied Miller Corporation's public financial reports over the past few years. I also read the textbook on financial management again, picking up memories of those complex economic terms. I even read all the public business information I could find about Christian Miller. If the gossip is correct, our new CEO starts work at 7 a.m. every day. A workaholic to the core. The reception area was bustling. Miller Corporation appears to have no shortage of customers and investors. I was smoothing down the front of my suit when a familiar voice, dripping with condescension, cut through the noise. "Bernice? What a surprise! I didn't know they let housewives interview for positions here." I rolled my eyes and I turned. There she stood. Melissa. She'll never get tired of this ac
Bernice Christian stood there, an imposing figure that commanded the room. His height, the sharp cut of his suit that hugged his toned frame, and his piercing steel-gray eyes scanned every inch of the space with a calculated intensity. "I apologize for the interruption, but it seems necessary at this point." Christian's voice was deep and resonant, slicing through the tension like a hot knife. Rachel, visibly flustered, started to speak with a placating yet condescending tone. "Mr. Miller, our interview with this woman has been concluded. She has absolutely no qualifications to be your assistant. She is just a housewife with no real work experience!" She gestured dismissively in my direction. A heavy silence hung in the air as Christian didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on me for a lingering moment, a spark of something flickering in those molten depths, before he turned to address the other interviewers. "Susan, George, let's hear your thoughts. What's your take
Melissa I stormed into Rachel's office, slamming the door behind me with a resounding bang. "You better have a damn good explanation for this, Rachel," I seethed, my eyes narrowing into slits. Rachel looked up from her computer, her eyes wide with surprise. "Melissa? What's going on?" "Bernice," I spat, my voice dripping with venom. "I heard she passed the interview. How could you let this happen?" Rachel swallowed nervously, her gaze darting away from mine. "I tried to stop it, Mel. But it's out of my hands. The interviewers were impressed with her qualifications and experience." A harsh laugh escaped my lips. "Impressed? That useless trophy wife couldn't impress a goldfish." I leaned in closer, my eyes narrowing. "I thought I made myself clear, Rachel. I want her gone. Out of this company and out of my way." Rachel fidgeted in her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Melissa, I understand, but it's not that simple. Fed... he recommended her for the position." My