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The CEO and the Country Wildflower - The CEO and the Country Wildflower chapter 71
Author: Novels Audio
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Chapter 71: The CEO and the Country Wildflower
The morning after Leo Brown’s sentencing, the York Group offices buzzed with relief and celebration. Streamers hung from cubicles, and the breakroom was stocked with enough pastries to feed an army—courtesy of Lucas, who had begrudgingly approved the expense after Emelly’s relentless pestering. “You’re welcome,” she chirped, plucking a chocolate croissant from the tray and taking an exaggerated bite in front of Lucas’s office. He barely glanced up from his paperwork, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t recall thanking you.” “You will,” she shot back, leaning against his doorframe. “When you realize morale is up and productivity has skyrocketed because of my brilliant idea.” Lucas set his pen down, fixing her with that icy stare that used to make her squirm. Now, it only made her want to poke the bear harder. “Productivity would skyrocket if you stopped loitering in my doorway.” Emelly gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Loitering? I’m strategically positioning myself for maximum motivational impact.” Before Lucas could retort, David appeared, clearing his throat. “Sir, the board is waiting for your update on the Singapore merger.” Lucas stood, straightening his tie. “Duty calls,” he muttered, brushing past Emelly—though not before she caught the faintest whiff of his cologne, something woodsy and expensive that inexplicably made her stomach flip. She stuck her tongue out at his retreating back. --- Meanwhile, across town, Bruno Halthorn was discovering the perils of married life with Serritary Jonshon. “You hid my cufflinks?” he demanded, rummaging through their shared closet. Serritary lounged on the bed, flipping through a fashion magazine. “Maybe.” “Why?” She shrugged, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I wanted to see you flustered. It’s cute.” Bruno groaned. “We have a meeting with investors in twenty minutes.” “Relax,” she said, tossing him a velvet box. “I bought you new ones. Monogrammed.” He opened it, staring at the elegant silver links engraved with his initials—and, beneath them, a tiny, intricate S. His chest tightened. “Sentimental,” he muttered, but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at his lips. --- Back at York Group, Emelly was knee-deep in spreadsheets when Tony dropped into the chair beside her. “Jane’s birthday is next week,” he said casually. Too casually. Emelly smirked. “And?” Tony fidgeted. “What’s she into?” “Oh, just everything you’ve ignored for the past year.” She laughed at his panicked expression. “Relax, Romeo. She loves handmade things. Write her a poem or something.” Tony paled. “I’m an accountant, not Shakespeare.” “Then perish,” Emelly deadpanned. --- The real chaos, however, erupted that afternoon when Linda Crow “accidentally” forwarded a company-wide email—detailing Emelly’s (supposedly) embarrassing karaoke performance at last year’s holiday party—to the entire executive team, including Lucas. Emelly’s face burned as the office erupted in laughter. Then Lucas’s voice cut through the noise. “Miss Clus. My office. Now.” She marched in, ready for battle—only to find him fighting a smile. “You sang Baby Shark?” “It was a bet,” she hissed. Lucas leaned back in his chair. “I want a reenactment.” “Over my dead body.” “That can be arranged.” Their banter was interrupted by David bursting in. “Sir, Brown Group’s lawyers are challenging the asset freeze. They’re claiming procedural errors.” The levity vanished. Lucas’s jaw tightened. “Call the legal team. Now.” As he stormed out, Emelly caught his sleeve. “Let me help.” For a heartbeat, their eyes locked—and something unspoken passed between them. Then he nodded. --- That night, as they pored over legal documents in his penthouse, Lucas’s migraine flared. Emelly, without thinking, reached over and laced her fingers with his. The pain vanished instantly. He stared at their joined hands, then at her. Emelly swallowed. “Don’t… don’t read into it.” Lucas’s thumb brushed her knuckles. “Too late.”