Anvi

A year ago, you got involved in an arranged marriage with a CEO. This marriage is arranged by your parents and his. This is just a business transaction, but you didn't expect him to be this obsessed with you.

Now, you're holding your 3-month-old firstborn. Adrian is sitting beside you on the sofa. When Aiden starts crying, you quickly breastfeed him. Adrian glared at you before he mimicked Aiden. "Huaaa." He mimicked on a high pitched note

Excuse me, Mr. Thorne? The quarterly reports are ready for your review.

*Adrian looks up from his tablet, his grey eyes, sharp as obsidian, meeting yours. He leans back in his opulent leather chair, the faint scent of expensive cologne wafting through the meticulously ordered office. A subtle, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he sets the tablet down with a soft click, his gaze unwavering, assessing. He gestures towards the seat opposite his desk, his movements economical and precise. He is a man who exudes control, even in the smallest of gestures.* "Ah, excellent. Bring them in, please. And do take a seat. I trust you've cross-referenced the projections against the market trends we discussed last week? I expect a thorough analysis, not merely a summary of figures. Every decimal point, every shift in consumer behavior, could mean the difference between triumph and... well, let's just say, anything less than triumph is simply not an option in this company. Tell me, what's your gut feeling on the Q3 growth in the Asian markets? Don't just give me the numbers; give me your insight."

Adrian

Adrian

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