Chapter 57
As soon as Tony released her from his arms, Myra took a few steps back, putting a noticeable distance between them. Her eyes never left him, wary of his every move.
Her thoughts were a tangled mess, struggling to find a justification for Tony’s behavior. She considered that he might have been misled during their previous encounter when he thought she was one of those women who used their charms to get ahead. But this time, the situation was different.
He wasn’t drunk—in fact, he seemed more sober than she was. His actions tonight were far from innocent flirtation or playful teasing. If she didn’t know better, she would think he was serious about… something more.
But he knows I’m married, she reminded herself.
Myra considered running out of the room, afraid of what might happen if she stayed, but just as she tried to pass him, Tony reached out and, in one swift motion, squeezed her backside.
She stiffened, a seething glare in her eyes. His lazy, devilish smile only made her blood boil.
This rogue! Myra thought, outraged. How had she not seen this side of him? She had once thought him a gentleman, but his cold, aloof demeanor had only been a mask!
“Don’t you have any self-respect, Director Hart?” she hissed through gritted teeth.
At the sight of her anger, Tony merely nodded, his voice casual as he said, “As you said, we shouldn’t keep the others waiting. Let’s go.”
He turned and made his way toward the stairs as though nothing had happened, but Myra stood rooted to the spot, her fists clenched in fury.
With a deep breath, she steeled herself and walked in the opposite direction, heading toward the elevators. The last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near him.
Tony didn’t seem to care that she had stormed off, but he did pause, casting her a fleeting glance before continuing his descent down the stairs. His expression was unreadable, but Myra could feel his gaze on her, even as she refused to look back.
When she returned to the private dining room, she saw Tony already seated at the table. Tilly, flushed from the alcohol, leaned in close to Myra and asked with a concerned expression, “Myra… did someone piss you off? Why do you look so upset?”
Myra didn’t want to share the details of what had happened in the changing room. Instead, she offered a tight-lipped smile and replied, “I ran into a rogue, that’s all.”
Just as she finished speaking, she felt a piercing gaze from across the table, but she pretended not to notice.
“Hey, Myra, since my dreamboat is here, you should have him take care of that rogue for you!” Tilly slurred drunkenly, her words tumbling out without filter. Her lack of inhibition only made Myra feel even more frustrated.
If only Tilly knew that the rogue was none other than the so-called ‘dreamboat’ himself. How had Myra been naïve enough to think Tony was different from the others? And what about that lover he mentioned?
Myra’s frustration only grew, but she refrained from voicing it. Instead, she grabbed a glass of wine but hesitated when she realized that Tilly had already had too much to drink. A wave of caution swept over her. Before, she might have felt safe drinking in Tony’s presence, but now… she couldn’t afford to let her guard down.
The Hart Group members seemed unaffected by the alcohol, standing and socializing while the women struggled to keep themselves steady.
By the time they left the private dining room, Myra had Tilly’s arm around her, trying to hold her up, though she struggled under the drunken weight. Leo quickly came to their aid, helping her get Tilly into the backseat of the car.
With Tilly settled, Myra let out a sigh of relief. She was just about to close the door when a deep voice interrupted her.
“Why didn’t you text me back last night?” Tony’s voice rang out, clear and unbothered.
There were a few managers from Hart Group nearby, and though they didn’t turn to look, Myra could tell they were eavesdropping, trying to catch every word. Her anger flared as she answered sharply, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Director Hart.”
Tony, holding a cigarette between his fingers, stood by the entrance of the Ritz Carlton, his commanding presence turning heads as passersby glanced his way. Myra’s patience was already thin as she slid into the backseat of the car, trying to escape his scrutiny. But Tony approached, leaning down to look at her with a raised brow.
She stared at him, incredulous, wondering if he was deliberately trying to vex her. He exhaled a cloud of smoke as he asked, “Then why did you call me last night, Miss Stark?”
Her body stiffened, and she felt her heart race as his words hit her. Myra flushed all the way to her neck. Was he seriously flirting with her in front of everyone?
“I didn’t call you last night; I called you yesterday afternoon!” she shot back, trying to maintain her composure.
“Oh? Is that right? Then why did you call me?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing.
His deadpan delivery only made her angrier. She had called him to thank him for his help, but after everything that had happened tonight—his kiss, his advances—she couldn’t bring herself to utter those words again.
When she didn’t respond, he shrugged casually, “Do you not want to talk about it in front of everyone else? That’s fine; you can call me tonight.”
How dare he act so innocent after everything he had done? Myra glared at him, her chest tightening with rage. But as Tony moved away, she slammed the car door shut, refusing to spare him another glance. “Drive,” she instructed the chauffeur, her voice cold.
In the backseat, Tilly looked up at Myra with wide, drunk eyes. “Myra, were you arguing with my dreamboat?”
Myra pressed her lips into a tight line, clearly beyond angry, but she said nothing.
Tilly giggled, oblivious to the tension. “So this is how you look when you’re mad… You know, Myra, you used to always look so… down. Like you had a lot of resentment inside.”
Myra froze, her eyes darkening. Tilly’s words hit too close to home.
Tilly, still giggling, added, “Myra, I think you and Dreamboat Tony are made for each other.”
Myra’s expression hardened. “Did you forget that I’m married?” she snapped.
Tilly grinned foolishly. “You can always get a divorce. Besides, you never talk about your husband—he must be horrible to you!”
Myra’s heart sank. Was Sean really that bad?
A bitter smile tugged at her lips. Tilly was right—he treated her terribly. But there was nothing she could do about it. She was married to him, and despite everything, she still cared about him. Even if he despised her.
Back at work, the Chase Group was busy with the Sunny Bay Project, putting in all their effort to make it a success. The first phase of construction was about to begin, and Myra kept herself busy with the details.
The weekend passed quickly, and Monday arrived before she knew it. At four in the afternoon, Richard arrived with a reminder that Sean had asked her to attend Old Master Hart’s birthday banquet with him.
“Are you sure there’s no mistake, Richard?” Myra asked flatly, her mind still occupied by the events of the weekend.
Richard adjusted his glasses and replied calmly, “There’s no mistake, Miss Myra. Director Chase has asked me to escort you to the atelier to try on your dress for tonight. It’s Old Master Hart’s birthday banquet, after all. Director Chase insists on making an entrance with you.”