Chapter 56
Tony’s gaze never left Myra throughout the dinner. As she stood before him with her glass raised, his eyes held a mix of indifference and something deeper, something unreadable.
After she downed her drink, Myra winced, her body slightly shivering as the alcohol hit her. Everyone at the table turned to Tony, eager to see how he would respond. After a long, tense pause, Tony slowly raised his glass and took a deliberate sip, his eyes still locked on hers. The intensity in his gaze caught Myra off guard, sending an unexpected flutter through her chest. For a moment, she forgot to breathe, then hastily turned away, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on her.
Just then, Mr. Logan’s voice cut through the tension. “Something’s not quite right here, Miss Stark. I counted three toasts from you to Mr. Clark, but you’ve made only one to Director Hart. You ought to make another toast. Come on, then; pour another glass!”
Myra’s head spun from the alcohol, and the world around her seemed to shift. She was perilously close to embarrassment if she kept drinking, but before she could offer an excuse, she accidentally bumped into Mr. Logan, spilling the wine from his glass onto her.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Stark!” Mr. Logan apologized hurriedly, grabbing a napkin and handing it to her.
It was clear everyone had loosened up from the drinks, but Myra just smiled and waved off the accident. She didn’t want to cause a scene while everyone else was having such a good time.
Leo, noticing the situation, shot a look at Tony from across the table. Tony responded with a subtle nod, and within moments, Leo returned with a waiter. The waiter approached Myra with a polite smile, offering, “Miss Stark, I could take you to the changing room if you’d like.”
The cool, wet fabric of her skirt clung to her skin, making it uncomfortable to sit, and Myra gave a small nod of relief. She followed the waiter up to the upper floors.
The waiter handed her an outfit, complimenting her figure. “You have such a gorgeous figure, Miss Stark. This outfit should fit you perfectly.”
Myra smiled faintly and accepted the clothes before heading to the women’s changing room. The alcohol had her feeling light-headed, so it took her a little longer to change than usual. When she finally emerged, she was pleased to see that the clothes fit her well, accentuating her figure in all the right ways.
But as she stepped out of the changing room, she froze in place. There, standing in the hallway, was Tony.
A few cigarette butts littered the floor at his feet, evidence that he had been standing there for a while. He leaned against the doorjamb casually, his eyes locked onto hers, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Director Hart?” Myra asked, taken aback by his sudden appearance. “Do you need the changing room as well?”
Her gaze lingered on him as she wondered why he was there, and it struck her how effortlessly graceful he looked, even with a cigarette in his hand—something that would have seemed rude in anyone else’s presence.
Tony flicked the cigarette to the floor, stomping it out under his shoe. He looked at her with amusement, his voice low. “I was waiting for you.”
Myra was momentarily thrown by his words. She peered past him, thinking he might be playing a joke, but saw nothing—just an empty hallway. Her mind raced. Why would he leave the others just to wait for her?
Before she could respond, Tony reached out and gently caressed the wound on her forehead. He had seen the dressing earlier, but had refrained from asking about it. However, now, his concern was evident in the way he touched her, and Myra couldn’t help but feel her heart soften.
“Does it hurt?” His voice was soft, his concern palpable.
Taken by surprise, Myra flinched slightly under his touch, her heart racing. “It’s nothing serious,” she muttered, brushing it off quickly. “Just a small cut.”
She cleared her throat, trying to recover. “We shouldn’t keep the others waiting, Director Hart. Shall we head back downstairs?”
She made a move to pass him, but before she could reach the door, Tony stepped forward, pulling her gently back. In an instant, she was pressed against the wall, his body leaning in close.
The scent of peppermint and tobacco filled her senses, intoxicating in its own way. Her head cleared instantly, and her heart raced with a mixture of shock and embarrassment. She struggled, but he held her firmly in place, his touch far more persistent than she had anticipated.
“What do you think you’re doing, Director Hart?” she asked, her voice rising in alarm as she shot him a wary glare.
A flash of déjà vu hit her, and her mind flickered back to that night at the hotel, when he had pinned her to the wall in much the same manner. Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red at the memory.
Before she could react further, Tony leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss. The taste of red wine lingered on his lips, and despite her surprise, Myra felt herself growing light-headed once more.
For a brief moment, she forgot everything around her. His kiss was intoxicating, and she couldn’t help but feel a tug at her heart. But indignation swiftly followed, and she raised her knee, intending to push him away. But Tony anticipated her move, pinning her legs down with his own.
His eyes remained on hers, studying her with a look that was almost affectionate, though his expression remained composed. He shook his head slightly, as if pondering something.
He appraised her outfit, a smirk curling on his lips. “Looks like I have a good eye, after all. These clothes fit you perfectly.”
Myra’s face flushed with both embarrassment and a growing sense of discomfort. He had picked out the clothes for her, but how did he know her measurements in the first place?
“Let go of me right now, Tony Hart!” she demanded, her voice shaking with frustration.
Her mind raced—Tony was too dangerous, too unpredictable. Every time he looked into her eyes, her defenses seemed to crumble. But in moments like these, he was a rogue, showing no regard for boundaries.
She was still seething, but when she looked into his eyes again, there was something tender there, something that made her heart ache. She didn’t know if it was her own illusion, but it left her even more conflicted.
She forced herself to speak, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “Tony, I’ve made it very clear that I’m a married woman. Don’t you think you’ve overstepped your boundaries here, Director Hart?”
Tony seemed unfazed. “How so?” he asked, his tone breezy and unconcerned.
Myra’s face drained of color in her frustration. She couldn’t find the words to respond. Finally, after a long silence, Tony let her go, stepping back with a subtle smile as if nothing had happened.