The Miracle of You

‘What the hell is he doing?’ was the sole thought in Camille’s head at this very moment.

Christian’s touch was surprisingly gentle. The pad of his thumb rubbed against the corner of her lips, as though wiping something away.

“Are you even a lady?” he said with a tone of light disapproval. “You munched away so happily that you never even noticed these crumbs on your face. Have you not learned proper meal etiquette during your younger years?”

The words processed inside Camille’s head for a moment before she, very slowly, grabbed his hand and put it down. It was fine when they were alone or at home, but they were at a public event now, so she couldn’t treat him with the same snark she usually did. She had to be careful with her actions from now on.

“I apologize,” she gritted out, trying not to show the displeasure in her expression. “I will be more careful next time.”

Christian smirked, knowing very well why she was suddenly being passive. “Good girl,” he praised, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and using it to wipe his finger.

Camille was boiling from within, but she wisely chose not to respond.

With that out of the way, he offered her his arm again, and she reluctantly took it. He led her to a nearby corner where a small group of men were discussing something. Some of them chuckled as they sipped wine from their glasses. There were also a few women at their sides, smiling politely but contributing nothing to the conversation.

That was to be expected since, for men like these, they only treated women as objects. Like women were trophies that they would only use to show off to other people. It was, frankly, disgusting.

As they approached, Camille tried to predict who they were, but could only make vague guesses in her mind. After all, they were in costume and wearing masks. It was hard to tell if they were the ones who regularly met with Christian in his office to discuss business deals and strategies.

As his secretary, she brought his guests coffee and snacks if they wanted. A few always made a pass at her when she did this, but she pointedly ignored them. It got to the point where Christian had to subtly but threateningly call them out, telling them that there was no place for indecent words and actions in his company.

There was one guest, a business associate of Christian’s who was in his late fifties. He was a man of slender build, but his facial features were a bit intimidating.

The man’s name, as she remembered, was Harold Huckington, the one who owned the second largest shopping mall in the city. He was also notoriously known to have affairs here and there even though he was married and had two kids.

He was not shy about his little ‘escapades’. Rumors said that the reason why his wife was still staying with him was because of the money and nothing more. Some rumors even claimed that his wife was also currently in an adulterous affair with a man seven years younger.

Camille dreaded it whenever the man visited. Every time she came into the office to bring them coffee, she could feel his beady eyes on her as she approached. She tried to ignore it at first, keeping a flat expression on her face, but she couldn’t help but feel disgusted when she caught his gaze on her chest, her skirt, and her legs. In fact, she couldn’t really remember a time when he looked at her face or her eyes.

A perverted old man, that was what he was.

The only reason Christian interacted with Harold Huckington was because the man was good at business. He might be a pervert, but he was good at his job and had some useful insights.

So, even though it was annoying, she endured the uncomfortable looks and remarks and often entertained him with emails and phone calls about business matters. She often put him on Christian’s schedule when they needed to discuss urgent matters.

But there was one time, in Christian’s office, when he tried something that crossed the line.

After setting down the cup of coffee for Harold on the coffee table, the man suddenly reached out and patted her on the hip.

“Pretty woman, would you like to come work for me instead?” he suggested in a leery voice. “I could use someone as beautiful as you in my company.”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Camille was instantly filled with revulsion, but considering her position, she couldn’t afford to offend him.

So, she just stared at him, swallowing visibly, before responding with, “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why not?” Harold Huckington was still staring fascinatedly at her chest. “You would make a fine addition as my employee. I can even pay you double your salary. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Mr. Callahan?” he asked, turning to Christian expectantly.

Christian was gazing at him with an unreadable look in his eyes. “And why, pray tell, Mr. Huckington, do you think that I wouldn’t mind?” he asked in a smooth baritone.

Harold shrugged. “I bet she’s not good for anything except her looks. I can take her off your hands. I don’t mind an incompetent woman as my personal secretary as long as she can… satisfy me.”

The way he said that last line made the gooseflesh crawl all over Camille’s skin. She shuddered to think about what everyday life could be working for this old pervert. She would rather be unemployed for the rest of her life!

Christian was silent for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” he answered simply.

“Why not?” Harold demanded. “Are you having your way with her and you don’t want to share? Is that it?”

This was going way beyond business territory now. And judging by his red face and slightly slurry tone, it would seem that Harold Huckington had a few tastes of alcohol before coming here.

‘How unprofessional and disgusting,’ Camille thought to herself at that moment.

Christian looked severely unimpressed. “If you’re going to keep on stating ridiculous claims and making passes at my secretary, I suggest that you leave right now. I have no patience for people who bring their personal matters or desires to a meeting that’s strictly business.”

“What?!” Harold stood up from his seat, face red with anger. “How dare you say that to me?”

“Leave,” Christian said, his voice dropping to a low, icy tone. “Otherwise, I’m going to assume that you no longer need your legs for walking.”