"Yes, I would advise you to go on," Claire said calmly. Her remark raised a few murmurs, and an indifferent look from Ryan. He waited for more. "But, I'd love to add a few notes based on your concerns."

Exactly what Ryan Stevens craved to hear.

"Go ahead," he affirmed.

Claire took a deep breath, wearing a professional look. "I'm sure what you've envisioned is something luxurious but capable of fitting everyone's taste, am I correct?" she asked while taking the remote from Nathan to rewind the slides.

"Could be." Ryan shrugged and squared his shoulder to sit more attentively.

Claire pressed the button and the slides moved, quickly at first, then slowly, until she paused and faced her audience.

"Just because it's freaky expensive, doesn't mean everyone with money will buy it unless it fits their taste. That's what I believe in this whole concept of luxury," she went on, putting her shopping experience into use. "In the end, fashion and style are two different things." Her sole focus was on Ryan, even though she couldn't stay in one place as she explained, "While fashion is all about trends, style is more subjective and people don't buy homes based on fashion but style."

Ryan looked immersed, eyes gleaming and tentative. He liked this new direction.

"A young businessman may want to live in a posh penthouse, but a retired politician may probably fancy a classic mansion somewhere remote or perched by the Sea. That doesn't mean one lacks taste and another has plenty—it's only a matter of preference." Claire continued with a short but meaningful speech, a confident smile adorning her radiant face. "So then, we shouldn't focus on trends or anything of the sort, but rather on taste."

"What?" Doris muttered, glaring crossly at Claire.

Claire didn't fret, especially with Ryan's nod supporting her statement.

"Some rich people like classic houses, some modern, some prefer color splash, some prefer light or plain. So, why don't we incorporate them all and have a variety?" Claire asked her.

"How so?" Doris demanded.

"Like a five-star hotel with different types of suites! Isn't it possible to make homes feel like a slice of heaven for everyone?" Claire smiled, adrenaline kicking in her system like a damn drug.

This was her element. In her head, she could see different colors and arrangements and all the furnishing coming to life.

"And?" Ryan urged, his narrowed brown eyes blazing from the intense shade of professionalism to a burning sexy inferno.

Hold your goddamn self, Claire! She pulled in a breath.

"We can redo the designs based on what the buyers may want, and not from how expensive we want them to look," Claire replied articulately.

"And what about class? Isn't that the whole point?" Doris asked, hostility evident in her voice. "In the end, we want to be exclusive! We're SK, Ms. Levy. We provide the best." She was stern.

Okay, first lady! Claire grinned politely at her.

"And of course without degrading class, Ms. Marcos," she replied.

"Director!" Doris snapped. "Director Marcos."

"Sure, Director Marcos," Claire retorted, deadpan. Whatever, bitch! "So are you agreeing with us, Mr. Stevens? In the end, you're the one with the vision," she asked Ryan with sarcasm, trying her best to hold her temper in check.

"Fine," Ryan told her, and she almost couldn't believe her ears. "We'll meet next time when you have the new designs then."

"Oh... sure." Claire smiled, relieved.

"I expect nothing less, Panther," Ryan told Nathan while extending his hand toward him, finally back to his other less scary personality.

"Yes, Mr. Stevens," Nathan replied skeptically.

"Ms. Levy, I'm looking forward to it." Ryan's eyes were back to Claire, teasing her.

"Indeed." She smiled, flushing, and when he shook her hand, her whole body succumbed to a jarring wave of an electric jolt.

It was the end of the first round. Claire had pissed Doris considering the way she walked past her during the farewells. Well, she wasn't expecting the Director to like her, was she? Again, Claire didn't care. While inside the elevator she stared at her boss, guilted.

"I'm sorry, Nathan, I know you told me to keep it low but—"

"Hey, what are you saying? You saved my ass out there," he replied, laughing. "I heard Ryan Stevens is no joke, but I never thought he was this blunt...and well...intimidating. I nearly pissed in my pants."

They both laughed at that.

"So, what are you guys going to do? I might've complicated your work because of my foul mouth, right?" Claire stated remorsefully.

"We'll have to revise the designs, no way out. Besides, we weren't expecting a go-ahead right away; everyone knows how demanding Ryan Stevens is," Nathan said.

On that notion, Claire had nothing to argue. She'd already known Ryan well enough to understand this fact.

They finally reached the lobby, and while heading out, her phone buzzed. She frowned at the sight of the caller's ID.

"What is it, sir?" she asked into the phone, and Nathan halted.

"I'm not your sir." Ryan's voice shot from the phone. "Don't go anywhere, wait for me."

"I have to go back to the office," Claire rebuked. "And if this isn't about work, then please stop wasting my—" She stopped her speech when she saw the approaching guy from the EXECUTIVE ONLY elevator.

What the...

Exasperated, Claire looked at Ryan approaching her with a phone in his ear. He moved boldly, his body firm and confident, wearing a black suit. The charismatic aura surrounding him proved him the boss among everyone else.

Why did he have to be this drop-dead gorgeous even at work? Claire felt her lips going dry.

Ryan stopped right before Nathan and said, "You can go ahead, Mr. Panther. I have somewhere to be with Ms. Levy."

"Oh, okay," Nathan replied and glanced at Claire, highly confused.

Claire blushed, chagrined.

This man was insane!

She glared at him upon Nathan's departure. "Seriously, how—"

"Not here, Claire," Ryan uttered softly. "Come on, let's go." He held her hand but she automatically pulled off.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Who do you think you are to order me around, huh?" she snapped, oblivious to the fact there were several SK employees in the lobby and they were somehow giving them something to watch.

Ryan didn't seem to care at all.

"Oh, do you prefer I drag you by force or carry you like a sack of rice?" he asked with a sigh, staring down at her. "Because I can carry you with pleasure if that's one of your wildest fantasies."

"You're sick!" Claire spat.

"Perhaps. So can we go without a fuss or would you rather we keep making ourselves an audience?" Ryan whispered, a crooked smile manipulating his features.

Looking around the lobby, and all the eyes fixed on them curiously, Claire breathed out heavily through her nose. Ryan's cynic smile was intact, and it was infuriating. What was he up to? It was another question in her mind when she finally relented to his demand.

"Get in." Ryan held the car door open for her, a minute later.

In a split second, Claire wanted to blindly slip in. But on another note, her inner rebel frowned and she boldly glared at him. "And if I don't?" she asked.

Ryan smirked. Here we go again.

"If you don't I'll kidnap you. And I'm not bluffing," he replied, his voice casual yet demanding.

"Oh? I'd love to see you try," Claire uttered, challenging him with crossed arms on her chest.

Despite her obstinacy, Ryan found himself laughing. "Claire, I'm not in the mood to play with you in the parking lot. Just get in the car and let's talk, huh?"

"We have nothing to talk about, though, do we?" Claire insisted, her head titled to one side as though she was having the best view of her life—Ryan's begging look.

And then, out of the blue, Ryan leaned toward her with predatory menace. Her heart flipped, and responsively, she reared her back until her butt slumped onto a car seat. Not again! She could feel the heat running through her body and it was insane.

"Just get inside the car, Claire. Unless, of course, you want me to shut your smart mouth right here in the daylight. Is that what you want?" he whispered into her ear, ignoring whoever was passing by from behind them.

Claire's breath hitched when his warm, minty breath caressed her neck but she needed to retrieve her composure immediately.

So she looked him straight in the eyes and said, "You're such a fuckwit!"

"A fuck–what?" Pulling back, Ryan erupted into a fit of laughter.

Claire sucked in a breath, relieved that he was no longer holding her captive with the mere look of his tempestuous brown eyes resembling a wild summer.

"I have to go back to work, Ryan. Unlike you, I have important things to do." Claire tried to move but he stopped her, his arms resting between the car door and the backrest of the passenger's seat. "Ryan—"

"Not today." He opened the door and he was no longer kidding. "And let's argue because I'm not prepared to let you win this round. You can start the designs tomorrow; I don't mind." Deftly, he ejected himself and slammed the door shut. "That will do," he uttered with a smile.

"Ryan!" Claire slapped the window while yelling at him, "Open the door, you jerk!"

He made his way toward the driver's seat, a big smile on his face.

As soon as he scrambled in, Claire began, "Ryan—"

"One hour," Ryan interrupted her, shutting his eyes as though he was overwhelmed with something. "Just one hour and I'll drive you back to wherever you want to go." Pruned to a beseeching tone, his voice carried warmth.

"And why should I comply with your demand, huh? And where are you taking me in that one hour?" She had to know.

God, being in another closed-up place with Ryan was the least of her needs right now.

"You'll soon find out," Ryan answered gently and pulled the seatbelt. Before starting the car, he fished his cell phone from the suit jacket and made a call. "It's me," he said curtly. "Claire Levy won't return to work today... I need her for something important. Personal." It didn't take long until the call ended.

"What do you think you are doing? Are you crazy? What do you mean I'm not going back to work and that you need me? What for?" Claire whined, her eyes surprised and raw.

"I thought we'd already established my mental state by now, no?" Ryan glanced at her, a smile kissing the corners of his lips. "Just shut up, Claire, it will do you good." He ignited the engine.

"You're sick!" Claire grunted. "So very sick!"

"Yeah, seatbelt!" Ryan said.

"What?"

"Put on the damn seatbelt!" he repeated.

"Fucker!" With a heavy frustrated sigh, Claire complied.

They rode in that style until they arrived at their destination. The car entered an underground parking lot of a gigantic building in a fancy neighborhood.

"Now what? Where are you taking me?" Claire asked as Ryan unlocked the doors.

"Just follow me," he said, exiting.

"Can't you fucking tell me with words?" Claire demanded, glaring at him.

"I can't believe you're starting this again." Ignoring her useless resistance, Ryan pulled her out of the car.

Outside, he led her towards the private elevator that was somehow hidden. Claire didn't question despite frowning like a child. The door slid open and they both entered.

"Fine, you can kill me here and no one will know," Claire muttered.

Ryan couldn't contain his laughter. "You're so stubborn, I swear," he breathed while entering the passcode for the elevator to start.

Claire didn't respond. Crossing her arms on her chest, she waited impatiently until the elevator ascended to the foyer of an exquisite penthouse. When she sauntered in, her eyes darted outside through the wide ceiling-tall window.

She felt like she was in a tower, the blue sea streaming from a distance. Resuming her gaze back, she realized how big the place was, yet bare of congestion. The living room and kitchen were attached, all modern and sleek, a silver-gray and white color combination.

Feigning indifference, Claire faced Ryan and quizzed, "May I know what this place is?"

"My home," Ryan answered while shrugging out of his jacket, followed by the necktie, and threw them on the plush, white L-shaped couch.

"Your bachelor pad, you mean? I'm sure it's where you bring all your bimbos for a good fuck!" Claire snorted, rolling her eyes.

"What?" Ryan laughed heartily. "A good fuck?"

"Yes, I'll give you that, Ryan. You're good in that department. But do you want me to be a plus one? You already had me once, aren't you satisfied?"

"My goodness!" Ryan sighed. "For starters, Claire, I don't have a bachelor pad. This is where I sleep every night, and you can see every trace of me if you look carefully. Would you like a house tour?" He was serious, partly annoyed, and disappointed at the same time.

"No, spare me the details." She dropped heavily onto the couch.

"And second," Ryan said tiredly while unbuttoning his utterly white shirt. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you, and that was never a one-night-stand for me. No, it wasn't."

In a split second, Claire wanted to believe him so badly. Yeah, he meant more than a freaky one-night stand too. But then again, what did they share for her to trust his beguiling words?

"Yeah, right." She reclined back, rolling her eyes.

Ryan tusked but let it pass by asking, "Want something to drink?" while sauntering towards the large open kitchen unraveled after the living room.

"No," Claire replied, "I just want to understand why you brought me to your home, as you claim, while I should be working like every other normal person out there." She couldn't stop appreciating the interior design of the place despite her distaste for the owner.

The paint job was excellent. The lighting system is quite exotic, neither dim nor bring. It was luminous—some kind of silver, then gold.

Chic. She loved it.

Ryan returned with a bottle of water in hand. He opened and gulped half of it, seating himself down while watching her with interest.

"What?" Claire snorted.

"Why have you been ignoring me?" Ryan asked. A deep frown marred Claire's face. "I've called you twice this weekend and you deliberately chose to neglect all of my calls... and even my texts."

"Oh, you mean your two missed calls and one message?" Claire replied sarcastically.

Ryan squinted his eyes in response. "What do you mean?" Ryan huffed, sitting more comfortably.

"I mean three trials and you're here complaining?" Claire muttered under her breath, and he raised an amused eyebrow.

"So you think it wasn't enough? Do you prefer I called you nonstop and sent you a bundle of texts instead?" He smiled boyishly.

Claire got up briskly, flustered. "No, I never said that," she replied stoutly.

"Oh, you didn't?" Ryan gazed up at her, grinning in a discerning manner.

"Yes, I'm only saying that you could have—" She halted. "Wait, you're only trying to evade the main issue here, aren't you?" Her voice was accusing.

"Meaning?" Ryan was enjoying the show.

"Why are we even discussing this?" Claire demanded, stunned.

"Because you want us to?" Ryan answered with a sweet smile, folding his arms across his chest.

"Of course not! Ryan, for fuck's sake, what is this all about, huh? Because I'm not in the mood to play your games anymore—got it?" Her eyes burned enraged, but it wasn't pure anger.

Fear, pain, and uncertainties clung to her every word.

"I missed you," Ryan said truthfully, his voice low and gentle.

A small silence stretched between them as they both eyed one another and deep down, Claire knew she missed him too. But so what? Did it even matter?