Shalma Hughes felt that the man before her—the same man she had once shared such intimate moments with—was truly terrifying. It turned out he had known everything about her background all along.
"When did you find out about my relationship with Marcus Hughes?" Shalma narrowed her eyes, staring intently at him.
"Hah! In Aethelgard, there is only what I don't care to know. There is nothing I cannot know," Julian Winslow said coldly.
Right. He wielded absolute power in Aethelgard; why would she even ask such a question? It was true. There was nothing he didn't know, only things he didn't care to know.
Shalma's lips curled into a seemingly mocking smile as she turned around, ready to leave.
"Did I say you could leave?" Julian's emotionless voice rang out from behind her.
"Mr. Winslow! You predicted I would come today just to humiliate me, didn't you? Now that you've achieved your goal, I'm not even allowed to leave?" Shalma straightened her back, stubbornly trying to hold onto her last shred of dignity.
She never wanted to be the unacknowledged illegitimate daughter of the Hughes Family, but she simply couldn't escape it. Shalma stood by the door, stiff and unmoving. Her eyes flickered slightly, her curled eyelashes perfectly hiding her indescribable vulnerability, while a nonchalant smile remained on her lips.
Julian leaned back into his executive chair, his deep eyes an unfathomable abyss. "You should know that when you approached me with an ulterior motive, you should have expected a scene like this. Since you chose to be a woman willing to sell herself for money, you shouldn't act all high and mighty here anymore, right?"
Yes! She, Shalma Hughes, was never some pampered heiress, nor did she think of herself as particularly noble. Since she had done it, she would never regret it.
She lifted a hand, her nails painted a bewitching crimson, and brushed through her wavy chestnut hair. Turning around gracefully, her bright, stunning face wore a deep smile, as if she were completely deaf to his earlier mockery and disdain. "You are right, Mr. Winslow. In this society, who still cares about a first time? Especially a man like you who has had countless women—you definitely wouldn't care. If I tried to use that to control you, even I would despise my own intelligence. What do you think, Mr. Winslow?" As she finished speaking, the end of her sentence pitched up in a perfectly timed lilt.
Their gazes met and locked together. The room fell into a dead silence. It seemed neither was willing to be the first to back down.
"Then please don't disappoint me, Miss Hughes. Do a good job on this collaborative project." Julian lightly pushed up his glasses with a long, slender index finger, a faint, cruel sneer tugging at the corner of his lips.
Shalma had always known that Julian Winslow was no saint, but she had never regretted provoking him. But at this very moment, she suddenly felt that waking such a dormant demon was truly the most foolish thing she had ever done.
The so-called collaborative project was essentially the Hughes Group clinging to Winslow Corp. If it turned a profit, it would undoubtedly be a win-win situation. However, if it failed, the Hughes Group would literally go bankrupt overnight. This project was merely a minor endeavor for Winslow Corp, but for the Hughes Group, it represented an investment of all their capital.
Shalma's beautiful eyes turned sharp. "Rest assured, Mr. Winslow. Just to keep myself from starving on the streets, I will give it my all."
"Good. I'll be waiting to see it," Julian said, the gaze hidden behind his lenses terrifyingly profound. "If you have nothing else, Miss Hughes, you may leave."
Shalma had absolutely no intention of lingering in his territory. Upon hearing his words, she waved a hand at him and strode out with an enchanting gait.
After Shalma left, Julian raised his hand and pressed the intercom button.
"Mr. Winslow, what are your orders?"
"Have the cleaning staff come and tidy up the office."
"Right away, Mr. Winslow."
CLICK. The intercom disconnected.