Upon hearing Adam Ross’s words that are laced with a hint of humor yet solemn undertones, Charlotte Thompson’s eyes dramatically widened, and she stumbled back a step.
Her back collided unexpectedly with the wall, the cold sensation seeping into her from the stone surface. Almost instinctively, she raised her voice in denial.
"Adam Ross! Do you even know what you’re saying?"
The soundproofing in the safe corridor was excellent, and not a sound from outside could be heard, so Charlotte didn’t need to worry about eavesdroppers.
As her words fell, silence filled the room, so quiet that you could hear the sound of breathing.
Charlotte glared fiercely at the man, her furrowed brows adding an air of innocence to her otherwise elegant demeanor.
In contrast, he merely raised an eyebrow upon hearing her words, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth at her irritated appearance.
He advanced a step closer, cornering Charlotte.
Startled, she instinctively stepped back further, but was met with the harsh reality of the wall; there was nowhere left to run.
In an effortless move, Adam Ross secured her in his hold. Their faces were so close that they could see every small fuzz on each other’s faces.
Stunned for a moment, Charlotte instinctively turned her head away. Her hands were pinned, and her attempts to free herself were fruitless.
She gritted her teeth, her voice trembling slightly, "Adam Ross, mind your manners."
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Adam Ross leaned in closer, his gaze, teasing and invasive, swept slowly over the length of her delicate neck.
He chuckled lightly, "How interesting. This is the first time someone has told me to mind my manners."
Pausing for a moment, he suddenly looked up at the woman in front of him.
The beauty of her profile was just inches away from his face, her fair cheek appeared flawlessly delicate.
The silence in the room was deafening as Adam Ross slowly spoke.
"But Miss Thompson, surely you know, these manners are defined by people."
Adam Ross stood up straight without loosening his grip, and a wave of pain surged from her wrist.
Charlotte looked expressionlessly at her own wrist.
The now harshly red skin on her fair wrist was alarming.
Turning her head, her eyes met his amused gaze and she maintained her poker face.
"Adam Ross, you didn’t invite me here for a debate, did you?"
Adam Ross did not respond, his deep black eyes hid emotions too complex for others to understand.
She held his gaze, her expression unyielding.
She almost forgot who this man was.
Adam Ross, the young master of the Ross family, once played the top executives of Ross Group’s side branch like a fiddle, and made a name for himself in the business world at a young age.
As the Ross family underwent a major reshuffle, amidst the whirlwind of family feuds, the position of young master Adam Ross, not yet thirty, remained unshakeable.
Adam Ross walked away from the business battlefield seasoned with battles and soaked in blood, his decisiveness and ruthlessness unmatched.
Such a man, could he truly be trapped by love?
Or perhaps in Charlotte’s heart, Adam Ross never fit the image of a sentimental person.
For him, feelings cannot be eaten as a meal, they are real obstacles.
Charlotte’s eyes were cold and clear. She suddenly curled her lips into a smile. Her voice was warm, but brought with it a hint of iciness.
"Adam Ross, you must take me for a fool."
She smiled as she struggled to free her hand, Adam Ross slightly raised an eyebrow, and his grip on her finally loosened.
Charlotte pulled her hand away, gently massaging the red swelling on her wrist, her face remained unruffled.