“I’m sorry, Mr. Clark.”
Apologies tumbled from her lips as she averted her gaze, her trembling hands diligently tending to the water stains that marred Matthew’s pants.
Her only focus was on ameliorating the inconvenience she had caused, oblivious to the subtle changes in Matthew’s demeanor.
It wasn’t until her questing hands inadvertently neared a sensitive area of Matthew’s body that she realized the perilous trajectory her actions were taking.
Stella hastily withdrew her hands, her cheeks flushing crimson in embarrassment.
The atmosphere between them grew palpably awkward.
Mercifully, Matthew intervened, extending a hand to accept the tissues as he spoke in a low, hoarse tone.
“I can do this myself.”
Stella nodded and promptly relinquished the tissues.
“Mr. Clark, I truly didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Should I buy you a new pair of trousers?”
“No need,” Matthew declined calmly.
“I have spare clothes in my car.
I’ll just change later. Let’s talk about business first.”
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He looked calm, but his heart was beating fast.
Meanwhile, Neville, who had been observing the exchange with an impish grin, interjected teasingly, “Stella, I’m just asking you to bring a cake. Why are you so flustered?”
Neville’s words only served to deepen Stella’s unease.
Sensing her discomfort, Matthew cast a reproachful glance in Neville’s direction, compelling him to adopt a more serious tone.
“As Matthew’s capable assistant, you should compose yourself in such situations. If you don’t want to stand out, you can exclude the part of bringing in the cake.”
He then turned to Matthew, seeking his input.
“Matthew, what do you think?”
Having efficiently attended to the water stains on his trousers, Matthew discarded the tissues casually.
He responded indifferently, “It’s just a birthday.”
Stella regained her composure, acknowledging her earlier overreaction with a gracious smile.
I can do it. By the way, Mr. Clark, when is your …