Auditing The Man Who Ruined Me
Language: en
At the International Hospitality Summit, I accidentally drenched the heir to the Harrington empire in red wine. The room went deathly silent. My director looked like he was about to suffer a stroke, ready to fire me on the spot to appease the gods of old money. But Brooks Harrington simply wiped the crimson liquid from his face with a linen napkin. His eyes were cold, his expression unreadable, as he turned to the summit coordinator. "Her hands are unsteady," he said, his voice a low, commanding rasp. "Don't make her carry heavy things in the future." The crowd gasped. The tension in the…