Chapter 125
Chapter 125:
Austin bent down, retrieved the folder from the floor, and skimmed through it. “How’s the leasing for the commercial street coming along p>
Brinley forced herself to stay composed, trying to steer her focus back to business. But the words on the page seemed to blur before her eyes; her thoughts kept circling back to Austin’s earlier question—and that sharp, knowing look.
He had to be suspicious.
“So far, we’ve locked in three anchor tenants, and we’re still negotiating with two others,” she said, her voice betraying a slight tremor. “We should have definite outcomes by next week p>
𝗦𝘁𝘰𝘳і𝘦s у𝘰𝗎 w𝗈𝗇’𝘵 𝘱u𝘵 𝘥𝗈𝘸n 𝘰n ѕ.𝖼𝗈𝘮
“I see.” Austin gave a slow nod, his fingertips brushing the folder. “Add in that racing-themed café. It fits the overall atmosphere better p>
“All right,” Brinley said with a nod, but the uneasy throb in her chest wouldn’t ease.
Their conversation ended quickly. Brinley hurried out of the study, clutching the folder tight.
At the door, she glanced back. Austin was still seated at his desk, the invitation letter in hand, staring out the window as though lost in heavy thought.
Once outside, she leaned against the closed door and let out a long, shaky breath.
Ever since Brinley had spotted that invitation in his study, she had been on edge. She resolved to train harder—but with even more secrecy.
In the meantime, her workouts grew more rigorous. Her main goal was to restore her stamina, especially her core strength. Professional racers endured g-forces up to five times their body weight in sharp corners. She couldn’t afford to falter on the track.
“Need a hand?” Austin called from the doorway, startling Brinley so badly she nearly tripped.
She turned and found him leaning against the door, dressed in a gray tank that revealed defined, sculpted arms.
“No, I’m fine.” Brinley hit the pause button, grabbed a towel to wipe away her sweat, and forced a casual tone. “You here to train too p>
“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep,” he said, walking closer. His eyes lingered on her flushed face, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Your heart rate’s high. You’re overdoing it p>
Brinley looked away and replied evenly, “I can handle it. I’m used to this p>
“Is that so?” He lifted a dumbbell with effortless ease, his tone light. “I’ve been watching racing videos lately. Those racers’ core strength is no joke p>
His eyes flicked briefly to her waist. “How long do you think it would take the average person to build that level of strength p>
Brinley hesitated. Was he testing her knowledge of racers?
“Not sure… probably a long time,” she answered, taking a sip from her water bottle. “Anyway, I’m done. Heading up p>
As she walked away, she felt his stare burning into her—an unsettling weight between her shoulder blades.
From then on, he began appearing without warning, always armed with a probing question.
When she stayed up late sketching racetrack layouts, he would show up with a glass of warm milk, his eyes lingering on her drawings a moment too long.