Chelsea took a deep breath and decided to approach the situation calmly. She had never been ignored by anyone before, but her guess was that he was either oblivious or playing games. She dragged a chair from the opposite table and sat in front of him, her eyes fixed on his profile as he continued to stare at his phone. The air was thick with tension, and everyone around them seemed perplexed by the unfolding scene.
She raised her hand, signaling a waitress to take her order, but no one dared to approach. Frustrated, she glanced at the dishes in front of him and pulled one of the delicacies towards her, savoring each bite.
"You didn't have to carry my favorite," he finally said, his voice low and smooth, as he lifted his gaze to meet hers.
His eyes were a work of art, a masterpiece of contrasts, dark and light. As their gazes met, Chelsea felt a spark of connection that left her breathless.
"Neither did you have to steal my table," she replied, taking another bite of the dish.
A subtle smile played on his lips, and she could sense amusement behind his eyes.
"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't realize the entire restaurant was reserved for you, young lady."
With that, he stood up, pushing his chair back, and his eyes never left hers as he rose to his full height. She watched him leave with the men in black, and when everyone around her halted in unison, she couldn't help but chuckle to herself.
"Is this a circus?" she murmured.
One of the men in black approached her, saying, "He requires your contact information. A number, perhaps, where you can be reached?"
Chelsea rolled her eyes. "Why don't you tell that mango head over there to come get the number by himself?"
The man hesitated, then conveyed her message to his boss.
The boss returned, walking towards her with confidence, and Chelsea felt a sense of unease.
"Give me your number, Chelsea," he said, his voice firm and authoritative.
She raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his audacity. "You've done your research, stranger. However, you got my name. I'm certain you can get my number from your source."
She stood up to leave, but before she could walk past him, he tilted his head and gave her a look that made her pulse trip.
"You enjoy playing hard to get," he said, his tone somewhere between amused and commanding.
Chelsea smirked. "No. I just don't hand out my number to men who act like they own the world."
"Correction," he said, stepping closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "I do own the world. Or at least the part of it that matters."
She let out a short laugh. "Wow. And here I thought arrogance had limits."
He leaned in, smirk deepening. "Limits are for ordinary men. I'm not ordinary."
Chelsea shook her head, brushing past him. "Keep telling yourself that, stranger."
As she walked out of the restaurant, she couldn't shake off the feeling that their encounter was far from over. Later that night, her mind wandered back to him. She thought about his eyes, his smile, and his arrogance.
"He's attractive but not my type. Too rude and arrogant," she told herself.
The next day, at work, whispers filled the atmosphere about the new CEO. Chelsea ignored them until one of her students informed her that the boss wanted to see her immediately. She made her way to the first floor. Mr. Davis, her supervisor, seemed nervous and fidgety as he escorted her to the big office beside his.
As they entered the room, the man from the restaurant sat in his chair, his eyes fixed on her.
"Leave us," he growled, his voice low and menacing.
Mr. Davis scurried out of the room, leaving Chelsea standing face-to-face with the stranger.
"You!" she exclaimed, recognizing him instantly.
"Missed me, or you just got mesmerized by my looks?" he said with a smirk.
Her jaw tightened. "What are you doing here?"
"I acquired this company just to collect interest in you," he replied, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Seems like a solid investment to me, Sunshine."
Chelsea stared at him, stunned. "You can't be serious. You don't just buy companies because of people."
He leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered. "Watch me."
"You're insane," she said flatly.
"No. I'm determined," he countered smoothly. "I saw something I wanted, and I don't believe in losing."
She crossed her arms. "Well, congratulations, because I'm not some property you can acquire with your billions."
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with intrigue. "You're fiery. I like that."
"You're annoying. I don't like that," she shot back.
He chuckled, the sound low and deliberate. "I can grow on you."
Chelsea raised a brow. "Like a rash?"
"Like an addiction," he replied without missing a beat.
She rolled her eyes and turned toward the door. "You're unbelievable."
"Chelsea," he called, his tone sharp enough to make her pause.
"What now?" she asked, exasperated.
"You'll give me your number. Whether it's today, tomorrow, or next week. The only question is how much time you'll waste pretending you don't want to."
She spun on her heel and gave him a tight smile. "Keep dreaming, mango head."
He smirked at the insult, clearly entertained rather than offended. "You'll be saying my name soon enough, Sunshine. And not in anger."
Chelsea didn't dignify that with a reply. She opened the door, stepped out, and walked away, her heels clicking against the floor like punctuation marks to her defiance. But deep down, she knew this wasn't the end.