Melissa shot back, âProbably around the time I started working as your secretary, making your meals and catering to you daily.
â
Everyone around them held their breath.
In the business world of Duefron, Melissa was likely the only one bold enough to challenge Marcus in such a manner.
Yet, Marcus didnât retaliate.
He shifted his focus to Mina, remarking, âIâve heard from Mr.
Waston that youâre quite the golfer.
â
Mina believed she had finally grabbed his attention.
She shed her jacket, eager to demonstrate her prowess.
But then Marcus gestured towards Melissa and declared, âYour new task is to teach her.
If she picks up golf, weâll seal the endorsement deal and sign the contract tomorrow.
If not, consider the deal over.
â
Mina was dumbfounded.
Melissa, regaining her composure, stood and demanded, âMarcus, what are you trying here?â
âs BunnyBookery
Marcus, drying his neck with the towel, gave her a Look.
âWhat, still clinging to that guy? Youâre not exactly young anymore.
Itâs time you act a bit more mature.
â
Melissa was so furious that she ended up kicking him.
She just couldnât get it today.
Frustrated, she headed back to the dressing room to change, ready to head out.
At that moment, the door to the private dressing room swung open.
A figure entered and shut the door behind him.
In the silence of the room, only his footsteps were audible.
Melissa had just removed her clothes and was about to shower when suddenly, she found herself pinned against the wall⦠She declared sharply, âYou know, I could sue you for harassment.
â
Marcus paid no attention to her protest.
He softly caressed her cheek and murmured, âI donât ever want to see that again.
â
âSee what?â She pretended not to understand.
A shadow crossed Marcusâs face.
He gripped her waist tightly, pulling her close to make her aware of him, though his tone remained icy.
âDidnât it seem to you like you were a bit too cozy with that guy, Miss Brown? Have you forgotten youâre Matthewâs mom?â
The fabric of his outfit brushed against her skin.
They were in a compromising position.
Yet, she retorted sharply, âAnd what exactly are we to each other, Mr.
Fowler? In case youâre not up to speed, let me spell it out for you.
Weâre over.
That means youâre free to get close to any woman you like, be it Miss Finch or that actress.
I have no say in it.
And who I choose to spend my time with is none of your business.
Got it?â