Who Do You Think You Are?

She followed the black-clad man to the car, and Max Ginger, who was sitting in the co-pilot seat, respectfully said, "Miss. Shannon, please."

Cynthia Shannon's eyebrows twitched slightly, then she bent down and got into the car, pretending to be surprised. "What a coincidence, I didn't expect to run into you here."

The smile on her face was as fake as it could be.

Tristan looked at the subtle glimmer in the woman's eyes and curved his thin lips. "Miss. Shannon, haven't you already figured it out?"

"Ford Corporation," Cynthia said.

She wasn't surprised by this identity.

But her intuition told her that the man in front of her was not just the president of Ford Corporation.

The man locked eyes with her, a hint of indulgence passing through his gaze. "Lunch together?"

"Sure," Cynthia replied without any pretense.

This time, they didn't choose "Spago" as their dining location. Instead, they went to Cynthia's favorite Pasta Bar.