As Summer sat on the settee, Harry asked, "Would you like coffee or tea, Ms. Hart?"
Summer had no mood for this. She just cared about one thing. "No thanks. When will the meeting be over?"
"Please be patient, Ms. Hart. I am not sure about the time." Harry still asked the secretary to make a cup of tea for her.
"Okay, thank you." Summer thanked Harry, and then she asked, "May I know what floor the conference room is on?"
Harry had no clue of what her intention was. So he told her. "Forty-eighth floor."
As soon as Harry’s voice trailed off, Summer got to her feet and walked out of the president's office to get to the 48th floor.
Harry came to his senses and pursued. His gut feeling told him that something was not right.
But Harry’s reaction was a little too late. By the time h e caught up with Summer, she had pushed open the conference door.
The senior executives and managerial staff were reporting on the progress of their respective projects when they heard the door swing open. They all looked
in that direction.
That included Mark. He was holding a pen in his well-proportioned hand and tapping on the file.
All eyes were on her, but Summer's face was nonchalant. She stood straight with a calm and indifferent expression, her eyes sweeping over those people before landing on the leading man in the middle.
"Since Mr. Valentine has done such a despicable thing, this action of mine should be of no surprise to you."
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