Tony’s gaze lingered on Myra throughout the entire dinner. He stared at her as she stood before him with her glass raised, the indifference in his eyes interwoven with other emotions.
On the other hand, Myra winced at him after she had downed her drink.
Everyone turned to look at Tony in anticipation. After a long pause, he raised his own glass and downed his wine slowly.
As he did so, he returned Myra’s gaze. She saw the dark fire that burned in his eyes and there was the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips.
It was merely a toast of appreciation but for some reason, her heart fluttered when she saw how Tony was looking at her. She hastily turned away from him, seeking respite from the intensity of his gaze, but she was quickly barricaded by Mr. Logan.
“Something’s not quite right here, Miss Stark. I counted three toasts from you to Mr. Clark, but you made only one to Director Hart. You ought to make another toast. Come on, then; pour out another glass!” he chimed.
Myra’s head was already spinning from all the drinks she had, and the ground seemed to be moving beneath her feet. She might end up humiliating herself if she kept drinking at this rate. When she tried to come up with an excuse, however, she accidentally nudged Mr. Logan and the drink in his hand spilled over her.
“I’m sorry, Miss Stark!” Mr. Logan was apologetic as he hastily grabbed a napkin off the table and handed it to her.
He could not have prevented this from happening; his inhibitions were just as lowered as everyone else’s after all the drinks they had. Glancing down, Myra saw that the wine had soaked through the front of her pencil skirt and the soiled fabric stuck uncomfortably to her skin.
“It’s alright.” She smiled, not wanting to make a fuss while everyone was having such a good time.
Meanwhile, Leo hurried over to Director Hart after the latter shot him a look from across the table. He lowered himself so Tony could speak close to his ear, then nodded and left the room. He returned with a waiter, who approached Myra and said, “Miss Stark, I could bring you up to the changing room if you’d like.”
Seeing as the sodden skirt was sticking to her skin uncomfortably, Myra nodded and followed the waiter to the upper floors.
She had dressed formally today for the contract signing, but her alluring figure was not lost in the modest cut of her office lady attire. The blouse accentuated her curves, and the close-fitting skirt drew in her narrow waist and showed off her long, slender legs.
The waiter was smiling courteously as she handed a similar outfit to Myra, saying, “You have such a gorgeous figure, Miss Stark. This outfit should fit you well enough.”
Myra returned her smile as she took the clothes and thanked her, then turned to enter the women’s changing room.
She was feeling tipsy, probably from all the drinks, so it took her a while to change into the new set of clothes. When she was done, she had to admit that the waiter had a good eye—the clothes fit her perfectly. She bent over and packed her soiled clothes into a carrier bag, then opened the door to leave the room.
However, she had only just looked up when she froze in place at the sight before her.
The waiter must have left when Myra had been in the changing room, and the person who was presently standing at the door was none other than Tony himself.
There were a couple of cigarette butts littered on the floor, indicating that he had been standing there for a while.
Upon seeing Myra, he shifted slightly and leaned against the doorjamb, his gaze locking with hers. A cigarette dangled gracefully between his lips and his eyes looked darker in the cloud of smoke.
“Director Hart?” Myra couldn’t hide her surprise, eyeing him curiously as she asked, “Do you need the changing room as well?”
As she watched him, she found herself thinking how the heavens must adore him. There was an indescribable grace to his carefree stance, even as the cigarette dangled from his lips. She would have cringed if it was anybody else.
Having heard her question, Tony threw his cigarette on the floor and stubbed it out with the tip of his shoe. He raised a brow as he surveyed her face with mild amusement and answered flatly, “I was waiting for you.”
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