The Cherished Wife (Noelle and Charles) novel Chapter 85

Chapter 85 

“Got it!” Noelle hung up quickly and fixed her gaze on the unexpected visitor, squinting slightly, “Mr. Harris, did you need me?” 

Meanwhile, Charles, who had just ended the call, still had a playful smile lingering in his eyes. He swiped at his phone screen, but soon, the smile vanished. “Enter!” 

Ronald walked in with Jenson, “Mr. Hoffman, Mr. Lowry has arrived.” 

“Right!” Charles acknowledged with a nod and gave Ronald a look. Ronald understood. “I’ve got stuff to handle, so I’m heading out.” 

Once Ronald was gone, Charles tossed his phone aside and relaxed on the couch, coolly eyeing Jenson. Jenson was drenched in sweat. He had been warned on his way over, since Ronald had escorted out Joey from the secretarial team. As to where Joey was brought, that was anybody’s guess. 

Jenson was a bundle of nerves the entire way, but Charles would not throw him a bone. The trek from the finance department to the big boss’s office was not exactly a marathon, but it sure felt like an eternity. He had enough time to run through every possible scenario in his head, even trying to figure out how to turn the tables in his favor. 

Charles, just stared him down with his poker face, leaving Jenson’s mental script completely useless. 

Figuring Charles out was like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded. Even the old–timers at the company who were not exactly fans of Charles would not dare to butt heads with him. Crossing Charles was like painting a target on your back in Brookville. 

Sure, some of the gossip was probably blown out of proportion, but a lot of it was accurate. 

Jenson kept his gaze glued to the floor, sneaking peeks at Charles but never daring to meet his eyes. 

Charles, cool as a cucumber, watched him. When Jenson clammed up for too long, Charles squinted and threw a curveball, “Mr. Lowry, are you keeping track of time?” 

“Wha–what?” Jenson’s head shot up, baffled, “Mr. Hoffman, what do you mean?” 

“Time’s up,” Charles announced, drumming his long fingers on the desk before letting them fall with a thud. It was not a grand gesture, but it was enough to make Jenson jump like a scaredy–cat, his face going ghost–white. 

“You had a full ten minutes to make your case, but you just stood there silently without a word in your defense, owning up to your mistake, or spilling the beans.” Charles rose to his feet, hands casually tucked into his pockets. “So, what happened? How much did he pay you?” 

“What?” Jenson’s hand flew to his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief to dab at the sweat on his forehead.” 

-I didn’t get any pay!” 

“Really?” Charles arched an eyebrow, leaning back against the desk with an easy grace that belied the intense pressure he was exerting. His legs were crossed, and though he looked the picture of ease, his presence was sharp enough to slice through steel, leaving Jenson shaking in his boots. 

“Yes, yes, Mr. Hoffman, what can I do for you? I’m clueless about what you’re implying, Mr. Hoffman!” 

“Oh, acting clueless, are we?” A cold smile flickered across Charles’s face, which had been all sunshine and lightness moments before. His brows knitted together, and his gaze cut right through Jenson. 

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