She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 7

Aegis Group headquarters, the top-floor executive suite.

Luther sat behind his massive desk, reviewing documents. Dressed in a crisp white shirt, he looked godlike, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows and casting a striking halo around him. The room was pin-drop silent, save for the scratching of his fountain pen.

Lori knocked and entered. She placed a stack of files on his desk.

After a moment of hesitation, she reported, "Your wife's mother is receiving treatment here in the city, at Alpha General Hospital. From what I've gathered, she needs to go abroad for advanced care, which requires an upfront payment of three million dollars."

Three million? Luther picked up the files and skimmed them one by one. A deeply complex look crossed his face.

Lori was about to add something when the junior secretary walked in, leading two maintenance workers carrying a painting. It was *The Isle*, the very piece from Colin's private collection.

Harrell wasn't the only one who liked it—Luther had been drawn to it as well, and after some casual negotiation, Colin had agreed to part with it.

Once it was hung on the wall, Luther stood back to admire it.

The Bibliophile's style was strikingly similar to Zoltan Varga's. He was a contemporary master whose pieces auctioned anywhere from twenty to two hundred million. Give it time, and this artist would be just as sought after.

He definitely owed Colin a favor for this.

He couldn't help but wonder about the artist's true identity. Some struggling, unappreciated prodigy in their thirties?

Thoroughly captivated by the piece, he asked the junior secretary to bring him a coffee so he could enjoy it properly. But the girl stumbled on her way over, splashing the hot liquid directly onto his dress shirt.

He looked down, scowling darkly.

The poor girl turned ghost white.

Lori immediately waved her out. Once they were alone, she said, "She's far too clumsy for this floor. I'll have her transferred to a subordinate department and find someone more reliable to replace her."

Luther said nothing, which meant he agreed.

He walked into his private lounge to take a quick shower and change.

The atmosphere turned suffocatingly thick before he slowly, methodically buttoned his shirt, fastened his belt, and adjusted his cuffs.

His voice was completely detached. "Do you need something, Jolie?"

Clicking her heels into the room, she leaned against a sleek credenza. Tilting her head, she looked at him with unmistakable seduction. "I saw the transfer orders in HR. You're moving me to the project management division?"

He was already tying his necktie, looking the picture of corporate elegance. Not a trace remained of the man who had been indulging himself just moments prior.

The crystal chandelier overhead cast a brilliant light down on him, catching the sharp bridge of his nose. He was wildly magnetic.

A barely-there smile touched his lips as he opened a bottle of wine, poured a glass, and handed it to her without taking one for himself. "That was my decision. Your talents and experience have far outgrown the role of my assistant. The project division is a much better fit for you. It'll give you room to expand and build an unbeatable resume."

Jolie beamed softly. She knew exactly what he was doing.

He was paving the golden road for her grand entrance into the Sanford family.