The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet (Thalassa and Elowen) novel Chapter 916

Chapter 916 

David, always sharp as a tack, somehow dropped the ball this time. 

With a glance as cold as the steel of a knight’s sword, Lysander issued a chilling ultimatum: “If you don’t leave now, prepare to burn the midnight oil every day for the next year.” 

David blinked, taken aback, and quickly stammered, “I’m on my way out, right this second.” 

With that, he scurried out of the CEO’s office. 

No sooner had he stepped into the hall than he spotted Thalassa emerging from the elevator. 

Seeing her, it clicked for David. The reason Lysander, who usually clocked out with the precision of Big Ben, was sticking around because he was waiting for someone. 

And who else could command such attention from Lysander, if not Thalassa? 

“Hello, Ms. Everhart,” David greeted her, taking the initiative. 

Thalassa offered a polite smile in return. “David, haven’t you finished work yet?” 

“I was about to head out. Planned to stick around for Mr. Sinclair’s all-nighter, but I got the boot. No clue who he’s waiting for. Anyone else would just be in the way, it seems.” 

The subtext in David’s words was clear as day. 

Thalassa’s smile faltered for a moment but quickly recovered. “If a clever guy like you doesn’t know who Mr. Sinclair’s waiting for, how would I? I’m here to see him on some business. Is he still in his office?” 

“Indeed. For all we know, he might be waiting for you, Ms. Everhart.” David’s smile was measured. After a courteous nod to Thalassa, he stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind him. 

A twitch played at Thalassa’s lips. David had circled back to her after all that beating around the bush. Couldn’t the man just speak his mind? Why the need for mental gymnastics? 

Reaching Lysander’s office, Thalassa knocked lightly on the door. 

Upon receiving a grunt of permission, she entered. Lysander sat behind his desk, his formidable frame enveloped in a black leather chair, exuding an aura of deep-seated authority. 

As Thalassa approached, her breath instinctively slowed, cowed by his imposing presence. 

She placed a folder on the desk with care. “Here’s the contract and keys for the Central Ring Villa. It’s all yours to handle.” She’d wrestled with herself before coming. The villa was the only thing left to her by Leopold, and she had wanted to keep it as a 

memento. 

But she knew that since Lysander had offered a trade, she had to relinquish the property. 

How could Lysander, with his commanding desires and intense possessiveness, allow her to keep something from Leopold? 

“You came to talk about this?” Lysander’s profound gaze fixed on her, his presence sending a chill, his handsome face taut. 

“Forget it. If you don’t want to deal with this, just pretend I was never here.” Thalassa’s patience waned, and she reached for the folder. 

But her wrist was suddenly gripped in his firm hold.