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Chapter 7

Lucius was still engrossed in the many documents spread out on the table. He was marking them up with his pen as he analyzed them, and I could see a smirk on his lips. His lips were very expressive, as were his eyes.

"I'm not a postgraduate, nor do I think I need to be addressed so formally. It looks like we've started our first work dispute," he commented. "You can call me Lucius, since we got close quickly."

My stomach churned at that suggestive comment. If I had hoped he didn't recognize me and had drunk more than I did, I was done for. With that said, I had several options:

Option A: Accept what had happened. Beg for his discretion and hope we could forget about it.

Option B: Deny it to the bitter end. He might remember, but I wouldn't.

"Excuse me, but you must be confusing me with someone else. I don't think that we've 'gotten close quickly.' No more quickly than you have with the other shareholders, of course," I said, choosing Option B—the path of doom.

Lucius stopped writ
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