Chapter 8
Lorraine dipped out of work ten minutes early - that was a first since she'd started at Nexue Apparel.
Back in her car, she quickly changed into a black tactical jacket and pants, then crouched in the shadows near the elevator, eyes scanning the stream of people and cars leaving for the day.
Phone gripped tight, she stayed alert, ready to snap photos in an instant.
Finally, the sharp click of high heels echoed. Isabelle emerged and slid into a BMW 290, pulling away without so much as a glance back.
Lorraine stiffened. That confirmed it.
She stayed frozen for a few more minutes, then finally stepped out of the corner.
Maybe because she was distracted, or maybe just off balance, she smacked right into a tall figure walking out of the elevator.
Her white sneakers tangled with a pair of polished black shoes. Her phone flew out of her hand. She stumbled forward.
And then - a strong arm wrapped around her slim waist, catching her just in time.
She slammed into a firm chest. The hair tie in her blonde ponytail snapped with a soft twang, letting her silky hair fall loose.
As Lorraine instinctively grabbed at his shirt to steady herself, two buttons popped off and bounced against her forehead.
"Ow!"
Wincing, she pressed her head to the familiar chest, the faint scent of sandalwood hitting her nose.
Carefully finding her footing, Lorraine rubbed the spot between her brows before looking up.
"Mr. Seymour..." she said softly, her cheeks instantly flushing.
Their eyes locked. Something charged hung in the air.
She could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, each breath gently lifting his chest.
Alexander, standing nearby, quietly turned his back as if nothing happened.
In the dim light, Tristan looked at the golden strands spilling down her shoulders, then at his shirt - two buttons gone, fabric loose over his chest. A glimpse of his collarbone, the lines of his muscles showing slightly beneath.
"That's shirt number two you've ruined." His tone was flat, like he was just stating a fact. The first one? That had happened in the car.
Slowly, he let go of her waist.
Lorraine bit her lip, carefully straightening his shirt and adjusting his tie as if nothing had happened.
Tristan went rigid, every muscle tensing the moment her fingers grazed his bare chest. She was just trying to fix the button she'd accidentally popped off, but each accidental brush of her skin sent heat surging through him. His pulse kicked up, jaw tight, eyes locked anywhere but on her—because if he looked, even for a second, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself.
Lorraine stepped back after straightening her clothes, then bowed deeply at a ninety-degree angle.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Seymour!"
He didn't reply, just swallowed hard and held her phone out to her.
She took it with both hands, quickly said thank you, and turned to head toward her car.
Once inside, she covered her face with both hands and buried it into the steering wheel. 'Crap! Was she cursed or something lately? Why did these weird run-ins with the boss keep happening?
And really, why did her face have to betray her like that and blush?'
Lorraine sat there for a while, trying to cool down. When she made sure Tristan had left, she got out of the car in a hurry and jumped into the elevator.
In the break room, Lorraine made two cups of coffee, then carefully broke a sleeping pill in half, dropping a piece into each cup.
As the elevator reached the second floor, she headed straight to the security room and placed the coffee outside the door. Then she knocked three times.
The guard opened it, glanced around to find no one, only two steaming cups with a sticky note that read: [Thanks for your hard work.]
He chuckled and picked them up, closing the door behind him.
Roughly ten minutes later, Lorraine knocked again. This time, total silence. She scanned the hallway, made sure it was empty, then slipped inside.
The surveillance system wasn't broken - it had just been trimmed. She checked the desktop and found the deleted footage right there in the recycle bin. She copied a backup and left quietly.
Back home, Lorraine stirred her instant noodles while watching the recovered video.
And sure enough - it was Isabelle. The time showed past 1 a. m., and she could see Isabelle leaving the parking lot in a hurry.
"She must've seen me with Tristan..." Just thinking of him made Lorraine's cheeks flush for no reason.
Isabelle's dad was in business with Tristan - the entire Nexue Apparel Co. relied on the Prescotts for transport. If this got out, would it hurt him somehow?
She sighed and decided not to act rashly.
Grabbing her noodles, she plopped onto the sofa with an exhale, turned on a movie, and started eating lazily.
That's when she spotted his suit jacket draped beside the couch...
