Chapter 928
On a typical Monday afternoon, Thssa was getting ready to wrap up her day at the office when her
boss, Ethan, strolled into her workspace with a casual, "Thssa, I''ve got a social engagement tonight,
and you''reing with me."
Her curiosity piqued, Thssa asked, "Mr. Ethan, why would I be the one to apany you?"
With his arms crossed and a look of amused ease on his face, Ethan replied, "You''re my secretary,
aren''t you? If you don''t schmooze with me, who will? Right now, you''re the only one I''ve got. No
backups, no understudies. If I don''t lean on you, who else is there?"
Thssa paused to consider his point. It was true, after all. If Betty and Anna hadn''t resigned because
of her, she wouldn''t be the one apanying Ethan to these social events.
As the sole secretary in the office now, Ethan would have to seek her out for anything he needed.
As they left thepany building, Thssa trailed behind Ethan, probing, "Mr. Ethan, why don''t you
just hire another secretary?"
"No need for that; having you is more than enough. You''re worth three," Ethan said nonchntly.
Thssa was left to wonder whether that was a backhandedpliment or genuine praise.
To her dismay, the venue for the evening turned out to be a bar—a ce where strobe lights seared
the eyes and the music pulsed with a relentless beat. Men and women gyrated wildly on the dance
floor, lost in the fric movements of an indecipherable dance.
Thssa was not fond of such chaotic environments; she had always preferred quietness. In the past,
even when she went to a bar with Hertha, it was only to those ces with soft music and a tranquil
ambiance, not to these noisy ces.
"Let''s head to that private booth over there," Ethan said, ncing back at Thssa, noticing her
difort amid the cacophony and the crowd.
Inside the booth, several executives were seated, along with a familiar man, Callum, who sat in the
corner, grinning slyly with a drink in hand.
Upon Ethan''s arrival, a portly figure with a receding hairline stood up, ss in hand, and warmly
greeted him, "Mr. Ethan, d you could make it. And who is this lovelydy? A new me?"
Thssa felt a wave of déjà vu—this wasn''t the first time she''d been mistaken for Ethan''s girlfriend.
Ethan chuckled, "I''m a man who doesn''t believe in love. The ''girlfriend'' species is nonexistent in my
world. This is my secretary, Thssa Everhart."
"Oh, the secretary..." The executive, approximately fifty, with a knowing look and a roving eye,
continued, "Ms. Everhart, a pleasure. Let''s toast to our first encounter. I''ve heard Mr. Ethan''s
secretaries can handle their liquor."
He handed another ss to Thssa, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mirth and something else as he
looked her up and down.
Feeling his gaze crawl over her, Thssa instinctively stepped back.
"Zane, my secretary doesn''t drink. If you want to toast someone, aim it my way," Ethan interjected
sharply, taking the ss from Zane''s hand, his smile not reaching his eyes.
Zane, sensing Ethan''s protective stance, dialed back his overt interest and apologized with a chuckle,
"Sorry, Mr. Ethan. I just assumed she was like the previous secretaries—able to knock back a few. My
mistake, my apologies."
His eyes, however, lingered on Thssa once more, and although his boldness had been curbed, the
underlying covetousness had not.
"Zane''s eyes and mouth seem to be unwell; they need special treatment," came a deep, chilling voice,
cutting through the tension like a winter gust.
The temperature in the booth seemed to drop as Lysander''s imposing figure entered, followed by
several bodyguards.
"Mr. Sinir." Zane began, eager to ingratiate himself, but before he could finish, a bodyguard stepped
forward, skillfully restraining Zane''s arms behind his back.
Zane let out a yelp of surprise.
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"Mr. Sinir stated that Zane''s eyes and mouth need to be properly disinfected," the bodyguard stated
with icy detachment.