Silas eventually noticed the mass exodus. "Why did everyone leave in such a hurry? And why were they staring at me like that?"
Willow wanted to point out that they were probably terrified of him. After all, he was the famously strict CEO. It was perfectly normal for the staff to be intimidated. As for the staring—they were probably checking to see if he was angry.
But instead, she said, "They think you're handsome."
"Oh?" Silas tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze turning intense. "Do you think I'm handsome?"
Willow blinked. How did the conversation suddenly shift to her opinion?
But there was no denying the truth. "Yes," she nodded.
A surge of genuine pleasure filled Silas. He leaned slightly forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Am I your type?"
He had wanted to ask if he was her specific type, but fearing he might scare her off, he phrased it as a broader question about women's preferences.
"Definitely. The women in the office talk about you all the time. You're easily the most attractive man in the building," she answered honestly. It wasn't just the company; it would be hard to find a man anywhere who could rival him. Between his striking features and his powerful aura, he was an absolute masterpiece.
"What about compared to Julian Sinclair?"
The words slipped out before Silas could stop them. He immediately regretted the question, but part of him desperately wanted to know her answer.

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