The conference room still lingered with the scent of expensive cologne and the lingering tension of the morning's gossip. Evelyn remained in her seat, meticulously organizing her documents with practiced slowness. She was waiting for the room to clear, hoping to avoid a direct encounter with the man still seated at the head of the long table.
Michael showed no signs of leaving. Beside him, Emilia Becker leaned in close, her voice a soft, enchanting purr that seemed designed to grate on Evelyn's nerves. "Mr. Thorn, aren't you leaving yet?"
Evelyn felt the literal goosebumps rise on her arms. If she gets any more 'soft and weak,' she'll melt into the floor, Evelyn thought bitterly. Deciding she'd had enough of the performance, Evelyn stood up. She moved with a strange, careful stiffness, a testament to the man's intensity from the night before and walked out under Michael's burning gaze.
