Charles Seymour nodded to the smiling colleagues around him, then bent down, picked up the lunch box he had just placed on the floor, and strode off with his two long, straight legs to find Sophie Wilson.
His striking back and elegant steps drew countless admiring glances.
The footsteps in the stairwell were very clear. Remembering how someone had just stood up for her, Sophie Wilson bit her lower lip gently and smiled foolishly to herself.
"Are you backing out?" A cold voice, like a bucket of ice water, poured over her.
Sophie Wilson turned her head in surprise and saw Charles Seymour standing on the step behind her with a cold, handsome face. Most importantly, his thin lips were pressed tightly, sharp and piercing. His furrowed brow and half-squinted eyes all indicated one thing—he was angry!
Very, very angry.
Sophie Wilson's heart skipped a beat, utterly perplexed. What had she done to make him misunderstand that she wanted to back out?
