Marcus had some long legs and he moved like a bullet train. Cornelia had to half jog just to keep up with him. Plus, she was busy scribbling notes and ended up bumping full on into a passerby. She crashed into his chest, and her nose throbbed like it had been knocked out of place.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Cornelia quickly apologized, clutching her nose. But the guy was not having it. He was pointing at her nose, hurling insults, and even raised his hand to strike her.
Instinctively, Cornelia tried to dodge, but the ground was slick and wet from the snow. She lost her footing and his hand came right for her face.
As quick as a flash, Marcus grabbed the man's hand. He wrestled him to the ground and started speaking to him in French, a language Cornelia didn’t understand.
She may not have understood the words, but Marcus' stern look and the man's panicked face told her he was not saying anything nice.
The man scrambled up and bolted, glancing back like there was a beast on his tail.
Marcus looked at Cornelia, with a sharp gaze, like he could see right through her.
Rubbing her nose, Cornelia said, "Thanks, President Hartley."
Without saying a word, Marcus turned and walked away. So, Cornelia had no choice but to follow.
Back at the office, she gathered the necessary paperwork for the day and headed over to the break room to grind coffee for Marcus, like always.
Ben followed her in, asking, "Did you and President Hartley have another spat, Cornelia?"
"Umm, I don't think so," Cornelia replies.
In her mind, there was no conflict between her and Marcus. Just a difference in opinion due to their differing social status and roles.
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