The twenty-eighth floor? Nia Mitchell stared in surprise at Maxwell Peary, who was standing right in front of her.
"Evelyn Peary just brought some pastries; give them a try."
With that, Maxwell Peary took Nia Mitchell’s hand and led her toward the Waiting Room.
Nia Mitchell blinked her large, sparkling eyes and glanced curiously at Alan Morgan. Is this why you called me, Special Assistant Morgan?
"Maxwell Peary, I’m at work, hey!"
Nia Mitchell struggled to free her hand. How on earth did this man become CEO?
"But I don’t like pastries."
Maxwell Peary looked at her innocently. "If you don’t eat them, they’ll go to waste." Given how incredibly frugal Rabina Mitchell was, would she really let such delicious food go to waste?
Sure enough, Nia Mitchell hesitated. Why would Evelyn Peary send pastries to MC during work hours?
"Then I’ll eat them quickly."
After a moment’s thought, Nia Mitchell hurried towards the Waiting Room with light, quick steps; she adored pastries far too much.
Before he knew it, only Rabina Mitchell’s retreating figure was left in his sight. Seeing her feigned reluctance, though she was actually overjoyed, Maxwell Peary’s eyes filled with doting affection and a touch of helplessness.
"How is she managing with her work?"
Although the Secretary Department was part of the CEO Office, her direct superior was Alan Morgan.
"She’s doing quite well."
Alan Morgan hardly had time to concern himself with how Nia Mitchell was doing. At least there hadn’t been any major issues. He decided he would pay more attention to her going forward.
Maxwell Peary nodded, sat down beside Nia Mitchell, and watched her eat with great relish, a smile dancing in his eyes.
With her mouth full, Nia Mitchell kept chewing. Hearing Maxwell Peary’s question, and unable to speak with her mouth full of food, she simply nodded.
Delicious! So incredibly delicious! The pastries from Madgar Pavilion are simply divine, aren’t they?
Maxwell Peary smiled and ladled a small bowl of sweet soup for her. "Careful you don’t choke. Here."
Nia Mitchell took the small bowl, tossed aside the little spoon inside, and gulped down the sweet soup directly from the bowl.
She took a few moments to clear her mouth before she could finally speak.
"Uncle, why don’t you like pastries? How can anyone not like something so delicious?"
Nia Mitchell desperately wished she could dissect Maxwell Peary to understand him properly.
"Hm? Are you trying to change my tastes?"
He’d never liked sweets, even as a child, though Evelyn Peary did. Could it be that all girls liked these sticky, cloyingly sweet things?
"I wouldn’t dare claim to have that ability."
Nia Mitchell figured Maxwell Peary was just teasing her. She turned her head and picked up another pastry, taking small bites.
A person’s tastes couldn’t be changed easily, especially not for someone like Maxwell Peary. That would be pure fantasy. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵⚑𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮⚑𝓷𝓮𝓽
"How do you know if you don’t try?"
Was Maxwell Peary actually encouraging her to change him? This world had truly become surreal!
"I don’t want to change you."
With a look of utter contentment, she continued to eat.
"If you started eating pastries too, wouldn’t there be one more person competing with me? I’m not stupid."
Maxwell Peary was speechless, his face darkening. Her incredible nerve! Did he seem like the type to fight with her over desserts? Was he short of the money to buy two portions?
Then again, considering how cunningly CEO Peary had managed to snag the small pork ribs earlier that day, it was entirely possible he really would compete with Nia Mitchell for them.
"Special Assistant Morgan, would you like some?"
Having eaten almost to her heart’s content, Nia Mitchell suddenly remembered there was another person in the Office Room. Although this show of politeness was a bit late, offering was still very different from not offering at all.