Testing Boundaries
James's powerful, large hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her away in one movement. "Just because we had a meal together, you've forgotten about being late?"
"Late?" Emma stood there, shocked.
What kind of man was he?
She threw herself into his arms, and he was able to lift her away?
In the middle of the night, just the two of them, and he wanted to speak with her about being late? His mind was not normal, as one would anticipate from someone who had been the boss before.
Emma stared at him, "Mr. James, you really are extremely virtuous!"
After that, she walked aggressively toward the bedroom, enraged.
James' attitude did not change as he stood up and began clearing Emma's bowls and chopsticks.
The porcelain bowls clinked lightly against one another. He lowered his head slightly, his movements skillful but carelessly graceful.
Emma's head poked out of the bedroom a few minutes later, smiling frankly and amiably, "Mr. James, if I come home early tomorrow night, that would be okay, right?"
"Let's see how you behave." James didn't even raise his head.
"Or...can I send you to work tomorrow? To compensate for today." Emma smiled truly, actively seeking an opportunity to do well.
"We'll talk tomorrow morning." James headed to the kitchen.
He's acting aloof, with his nose in the air!
He kept her on tenterhooks, which was really frustrating. Emma had already curled her fists hard!
When she gets pregnant, she would undoubtedly beat him to release her rage!
...
The following morning, James stood at the bus stop, bewildered, "This is what you call sending me to work?"
Emma agreed, her tone matter-of-fact: "Yes, this is how I get to work every day." It's only half an hour to the workplace, which is quite rapid."
James looked at her and replied, "I don't need you to send me, you can go on your own."
"No, no, Mr. James..." Emma instantly pulled him back.
She said she'd send him. If she didn't succeed, he would put on a show again tonight.
Emma smiled up at him, covering the gritting of her teeth. "I'll call a taxi to send you!"
James thought about it for two seconds before deciding to compromise.
What was the issue with taking the bus? It was large and featured bus lanes, so there was no traffic congestion. Emma muttered in her heart, refusing to delay calling a taxi.
When the taxi arrived, they got in.
Emma sat relaxed, but her peripheral vision instantly observed that the man next her did not appear to be at ease. "Mr. James, what's wrong?"
"Enjoying your good intentions in sending me to work." James gave a lazy smile.
The taxi was too small. He couldn't fully stretch his legs. There was a slight, barely discernible musty odor in the automobile. For the first time, he became car sick.
Emma recognized that he was being sarcastic.
Oh no, she had hoped to improve his impression of her today.
But now she'd angered him again.
"If you don't like little taxis, you could have ridden the bus with me. "Buses are very spacious." Emma mumbled gently before raising her voice to the driver: "Master, please open the windows, thanks."
The familiar voice prompted the motorist to check in the rearview mirror. He exclaimed excitedly, "It's you!"
Emma says, "Master!" "What a coincidence?"
The taxi driver's car broke down last night. Emma addressed him familiarly: "Master, is your car fixed?"
"Minor problem, reoccurring old issue. I went to the repair shop for a few minutes, and it was fixed." The driver talked especially softly.
Emma sensed something was strange about the easygoing environment.
She felt a little frightened, like if she had neglected something vital.
Until the driver's somber voice burst out in the car, "Did your husband pass away peacefully last night?"
Emma: ...
The automobile became as silent as a vacuum.
The air appeared to have frozen.
Her head twisted inch by inch, meeting James' light-colored gaze.
The two people locked gaze.
James' tone was sluggish and leisurely: "Em-Emma?"
Emma felt a shiver down her spine at his stare. She gave two dry laughs, "Mr. James, I can explain..."
"No need to explain." James maintained a placid look, exhibiting no emotion. "Is this how you explain your husband's matters to others?"
He stopped. "Gone in five seconds?"
Emma lowered her head swiftly, unwilling to look at James again.
Seeing the interplay between the two in the backseat, the driver recognized something was wrong and wisely remained mute.
As they approached Starweaver, the driver couldn't help but say, "Miss, you and your superior, could it be last night you two were..." But your husband had just died yesterday night..."
The driver understood how to infer things...
It would have been better if he hadn't implied anything!
James returned his gaze to Emma; the light reflected from his gold-rimmed glasses was quite sharp.
Emma felt hopeless: "Master, just drive your car..."
They arrived at the company.
Emma stepped out of the car quickly, scared someone would see her with James, and even more afraid James would tear her apart if he was upset.
Emma headed to the advertising department, still feeling uneasy. When she entered, she noticed that everyone was overjoyed.
Sophia ran over and hugged her before she could reach her workstation.
"Little Emma, from now on we don't have to work overtime!"
Emma pushed her aside listlessly, "Mr. James just mentioned it casually in the group, don't get your hopes up too much."
"Haven't you seen the big company group?" Lucas approached with enthusiastic brows, "The HR department devised a detailed scheme overnight, tying overtime to performance deductions. They shared the execution strategy with the group early this morning!"
"So efficiently?" Emma was also startled.
"You know what's most amazing?" Sophia laughed heartily at this point: "The second HR disclosed the information, Mr. James commented in the huge group that HR must have worked hard to come up with this. As a result, their respective supervisors' performance will be deducted.
This was definitely something James would do.
Emma believed that most people couldn't understand James' ideals.
-
Last night, some members of the group discussed whether not working overtime would have an impact on job progress.
However, after the details were executed, it was as if a spring had been wound in Starweaver. From top to bottom, everything began to operate perfectly and quickly.
The employees were ready to start!
Those that got into Starweaver were among the top ten thousand talents. With motivation, their effectiveness doubled, as if they had cheated. For a corporation with excellent salary, strong benefits, and no overtime, the employee loyalty index increased exponentially!
The essential point was that all of the employees at other companies were suddenly coveting Starweaver. Starweaver had transformed into a delectable bun that everyone wanted to try. Employees who did not perform well might easily be let go.
Even Emma was scheduled to shoot over ten new bracelet designs this morning.
Goodness, I'm not working overtime, but the company seems even more competitive!
Emma spent the entire morning shooting before taking her lunch break.
On her way to the employee canteen, someone unexpectedly patted her on the shoulder and asked, "Emma, are you free now? I'd want to speak with you for a bit, may I?"
Emma stared back, astonished.
How about Jessica Bradley?
Jessica normally doesn't get along with her. Why was she searching for her?
Emma spoke directly: "Last time you said we don't click at all after just half a sentence."
Jessica looked around and saw that no one else was present. She coughed unnaturally a few times, "Emma, I was mistaken before; I misunderstood you." We haven't had many chances to chat, therefore we're not close..."
Emma stayed mute.
They were simply not close. That was a pretty subtle way to phrase it.
"Emma, I want to ask you for a small favor..." Jessica's tone was unusually pleasant.
Emma lifted her brow in astonishment, "If you have anything, look for your sister, not me."
Jessica's sister was Grace Bradley, a stunning beauty in the public relations department.
Her sister was attractive, articulate, and able to hold her drinks.
The public relations department was in charge of managing public opinion and the external image. However, Grace Bradley had become the "PR at wine tables" that department heads enjoyed bringing along to big social gatherings. She fit in well with the company.
Jessica: "Only you can help me with this."
Emma: "Then don't go around the bush. Just let me know if you have anything. Don't be shy; be frank about it."
She wouldn't have agreed anyway.