Chapter 273
Chapter 273:
A kiss, maybe?
The possibility made her blink rapidly, and she gave her head a small shake. No. That couldn’t be it. William was probably messing with her.
She looked away and muttered, “My friend probably mistook you for someone.”
When she turned around, she realized Sharon had vanished.
Frustration bubbled in her chest. Just what kind of friend disappears right when she needed backup?
“Your friend, huh? Where is she?”
William let out a quiet laugh. His breath brushed her skin, warm and far too close, making her flinch slightly.
“Mr. Briggs, this is clearly a misunderstanding. I won’t waste more of your time. Goodbye!” She spun around and tried to make a quick exit, like Sharon had, but William was faster. His hand caught her wrist before she could get away.
“Why are you backing off? Did I strike a nerve? You look rattled, like you’re scared I might be right.”
Stella spun around and snapped, “Who says I’m rattled? You’re just making things up. Why on earth would I feel scared?”
William leaned in, his eyes narrowing as he studied her up close.
In a blink, the gap between them vanished. The subtle scent of sandalwood clung to him, familiar and all too similar to what she remembered from the night before. Her eyes shifted restlessly, avoiding his.
She said, “There should be some space between us. Being this close doesn’t seem appropriate.”
She lifted a hand to push him away, but he caught her wrist before she could. “Now you’re concerned about being too close? That wasn’t how it looked last night.”
Her thoughts spiraled again. Why did he keep bringing up last night?
Suddenly, hazy flashes crossed her mind—fragments of the elevator, of him standing near her, far too near…
Fresh stories here gαℓησν𝒆𝓁s․cøm
Her expression shifted. “Mr. Briggs, you can’t throw out claims like that. If you’re going to bring up last night, then show me proof.”
Even if the drinks had clouded her head, she still understood her limits. She would never take the lead—not even then.
William took in her defiant look and let out a quiet chuckle. “What kind of proof do you want? Who keeps receipts for moments like that?”
There was mischief in his voice, a quiet urge to see how far he could push her before she’d snap.
“Since there’s no evidence, then it’s just baseless talk, Mr. Briggs. I don’t have time for this. I have things to do.”
She turned, ready to leave again, but his fingers curled tighter around her hand. “And where exactly are you off to? Have you even read through the Nebula project plan yet?”
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