Chapter 2 - A Trivial Incident
“Christ, what happened?” Emma yelled right away, in a high soprano pitch.
Her shock came to me as no surprise, but there was no time for a lengthy explanation. I was 15 minutes behind schedule.
I paced forward and asked, “How did the meeting preparation go?”
She frantically chased after me and replied, “Everything is done as you have instructed. All the executives are present as well. More importantly, Yeonwoo, you should at least change out of your shirt!”
I refused with no hesitation. “I’m good. Has everything been printed? Enough copies with room for error?”
“Great. Standby in the meeting room.”
I nodded, left the secretary’s office, and headed straight toward the CEO’s office. I had stepped on the gas like mad, but all I managed was to arrive just in time for the meeting. I didn’t even have time to stop by the washroom to look at the mirror. That was probably for the best. If I were to check what a mess I was with my own two eyes, I would probably want to call it a day and go straight home.
The eye that was hit by the fountain pen throbbed, and I could feel the eyelid swelling up. Vaguely imagining just how terrible I must look, I walked into the room at the end of the hallway. I passed my desk, which was right by the entrance, and stood in front of the door to the CEO’s office.
After taking in a sharp breath, I knocked with a precise rhythm. Although there was no reply, I was about to open the door after a slight pause, just as always.
Just then, the door opened abruptly. When I reflexively took a step back, the man who was about to walk out jolted to a stop.
“Oh my,” he exclaimed.
At the same time, the sickly sweet scent of an Extreme Alpha attacked my nose.
I almost cursed out loud. Instead, I hastily covered my nose with my sleeve and held my breath. As I turned pale, struggling to suppress my breathing, all I could manage to do was blink. He watched me in amusement.
Keith Knight Pittman.
An artwork of God, created for the sole purpose of exhibiting his unfairness to the humans.
His father was the president of P Financial Institution, the single leading company of America’s financial industry. He himself was the heir to the greatly respected Pittman Family, although he was currently running an entertainment company. Not only did he have money and power, but he was also an Extreme Alpha—a very small group of people that represented less than 0.1 percent of the world population. Simply put, he was at the very summit of the food chain.
As expected from an Extreme Alpha who was born with seductive pheromones and a superior beauty, this man captivated others at first sight.
Thanks to that, I had to go through needless inconveniences to clean up after him ever since I got a job as his secretary. The past events flew by my brain like a panorama. Hit with a sudden bout of anger, I scrunched up my face.
“Have you finally calmed down?” he asked as I collected my breath. He was leaning against the doorframe as he looked down at me, his face like that of a stranger who had witnessed an amusing sight, neither more nor less. On top of that, Keith blatantly eyed me up and down before fixing his gaze onto my face.
“What’s up with this beaten-down getup?”
Although a smile lingered on his mouth, he was obviously mocking me. The disgust in his gaze was proof enough of that. Being a perfectionist who never showed any signs of disorder, he also did not permit others to be disorderly. Of course, it was also not in my taste to walk around in “this beaten-down getup.” Suppressing the boiling anger within me, I looked up at him.
“Miss Elisa signed the contract,” I began my report in a formal manner. “Her compensation will be sorted out later this week. She has also accepted our request regarding her relationship with you henceforth. The contract will go through a legal process in order to prevent any needless conflicts that may arise—”
“Look,” he interrupted brusquely. “Do I really have to know every detail?”
I looked up at him in silence. His face, which was usually settled in indifference, showed a hint of annoyance.
Gazing at the small crease between his eyebrows, I replied stoically, “No.”
Keith asked again, “Do you think I’d want to know about it, then?”
Maintaining a stiff manner, I answered once again. “No, but reporting everything is my job.”
Keith finally showed visible irritation and lifted his body off the doorframe.
“Don’t bother reporting something so trivial from now on.”
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