Chapter 2

Jefferson was there as the investor's representative, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his sleeves pushed up to his forearms, revealing lean, defined muscles.

He sat right at the center of the conference room, focused on the documents in front of him.

When it was my turn to present, a colleague suddenly blamed me, saying there was an issue with the data I'd provided.

I stood there, my mind racing, about to defend myself.

Then Jefferson cut in, "The data was updated just last night. You didn't even check your email before showing up this morning?"

The room fell silent for three seconds.

The colleague's face went beet red.

After the meeting, I was gathering my things to leave when I saw him waiting for me by the door.

"Your colleague's not cutting it. Switch teams and work on my project. I'll handle the resources for you," he said.

I hesitated for a moment. "Mr. Whitfield, I—"

He cut me off. "It's not ability you're missing. It's an opportunity. I can give you that."

He said it with the sunlight behind him, his face lost in shadow, but his tone was so certain, like he was just stating the obvious.

That was the moment I fell for him.

Compared to Jefferson's good looks and powerful family, what really got to me was the way he recognized my worth.

Ever since I was little, just because I had a pretty face, all my hard work got dismissed as me sleeping my way to the top.

Mom always said beauty was a double-edged sword. If I played it with another card, it was a game-changer, but if I relied on it alone, I was bound to lose.

So I pushed myself to study hard. I was the first in my village to get into a top university, and the first to make it into a major corporation.

Beneath the surface, my parents had split up when I was little, and I ended up living with my mom.

She was one of the few women back then with a high school diploma, but no company wanted her because she was always sick, and factories turned her away because she couldn't handle night shifts.

So she scraped by on odd jobs just to keep us afloat.

During my four years in college, I worked as a tutor, handed out flyers, and even washed dishes in the cafeteria.

After graduation, I moved to Northvale City, rented a tiny 100-square-foot room, and spent two hours every day squeezed onto the subway for my commute.

I never dared to use my looks as a shortcut, because the cost was way steeper than anyone thinks.

I was always waiting for an opportunity I could actually seize.

When Jefferson said those words, I felt like luck had finally smiled on me.

I agreed.

At first, it was just like he said. We were just using each other.

Jefferson really followed through on his promise.

He moved me onto his project team, took me along to meet clients, walked me through investment strategies, and taught me how to break down financial reports.

The first time I had to sit in a meeting with the higher-ups, my palms were sweating from nerves. He sat across from me, gave me a reassuring smile, his eyes telling me, 'Don't be afraid, you can do this.'

Step by step, I made it to manager.

The day my mom got really sick, I was staring at the medical bills, feeling totally lost.

Then Jefferson called me. "The director at Unity Medical Center will talk to you about the surgery plan later. Don't worry. I've got your back."

I'd been trying to get an appointment with that specialist for three months and couldn't get anywhere, but he got it handled with just one phone call.

He even got her transferred to a VIP room and settled all the bills.

I asked him how much it cost, planning to pay him back bit by bit.

He said, "No need. I'll just deduct it from your project bonus."

But that year, my project bonus was exactly the same as always.

He said, "Already did. For emotional damages. If you keep moping around, it just annoys me."

He knew exactly how to get me to accept his help.

It never felt like charity—more like he was just helping out, like it was nothing.

That Christmas night, he got drunk, so I went to pick him up.

He was slumped in the back seat, eyes closed, when he suddenly said, "Shannon, do you think I'm an asshole?"

I replied, "No."

He snorted. "You're lying."

Then he leaned in, his breath brushing against my neck.

And the next second, he kissed me.

His lips were a bit cold and tasted like alcohol, but honestly, I didn't hate it.

My heart was pounding—so fast I almost forgot to breathe.

He stopped, raised an eyebrow at me. "Is this your first kiss?"

My lashes trembled, my ears were burning hot as I replied softly, "That's none of your business."

Everything that happened after just felt natural, like it was meant to be.

He was shirtless, his skin cool to the touch, every muscle sharply defined, radiating pure strength.

When I cried out in pain, he stopped right away, gently kissing away the tears at the corners of my eyes. "Alright, I'll be more gentle."

The necklace around his neck pressed against his collarbone, swinging wildly as he moved.

That night, for a moment, I almost believed he loved me.

Lying next to him, watching him sleep, I thought that if this was my life forever, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Now I realized just how naive I was back then. Beautiful women always surround someone like him.