TREVOR HUNTERS’S POV
IT MADE a blast sound when I dropped my fist on the top of my table in the office on the twenty-seventh floor of the hotel, the last floor I’m in after hearing what James told me.
This is where I am working, and my room is next to my office. I am so strict that no one enters my room without my permission, whether my family or my assistant.
I could feel how Assistant James’s shoulder moves because of the noise I made and when I throw him the report he submitted.
“You think this is a report, James?” I am trying my voice to be calm, but it doesn’t sound calm to him when I saw how frightened he is after I asked.
“I-I tried my best to convince her,” he retorted, trying to defend himself.
I stood up, releasing my body from the chair. “Are you trying to say in my face that I need to convince her myself?” I asked in a masculine, firm voice.