Vincent suddenly leaned in with a conspiratorial air. "How about dinner tonight?"

I eyed him warily. "You've got some ulterior motive, don't you? Since when do you treat me to dinner?"

Vincent immediately adopted a wounded expression. "Come on, don't make me out to be so calculating. I just figured I'd better foster goodwill, considering I might need your help in the future."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "You're such an old fox. I'm heading out." Tossing my cigarette, I turned and prepared to leave.

"I'll swing by the workshop too," Vincent said, discarding his cigarette and trailing after me.

No sooner had I stepped into the office than I ran straight into Sophie Summers. Her brows were furrowed, her mood clearly sour. "What did Vincent want with you?" she asked abruptly.

Startled, I wondered how she could know everything. "How did you even know he was looking for me?"

Sophie let out a derisive laugh, her gaze tinged with disdain. "It wasn't hard to guess."

I shrugged helplessly. "He was asking about the procurement funds—how long before they'll be in place?"

Her eyebrows arched slightly, and her lips curled into a mocking smile. "Why didn't he come to me directly?"

"You're the chairwoman, after all. Your aura is a bit... overwhelming," I said in an attempt to lighten the mood, hoping to diffuse her irritation.

"You mean to say I'm scary, don't you?" she challenged, her voice sharp and her eyes piercing.

"No, no, that's not what I meant!" I waved my hands frantically in denial. "He thought it'd be easier to ask me—he didn't want to bother you while you're working."

Her expression softened slightly, though her tone remained icy. "The funds will be ready today. From now on, you're in charge of following up on such matters."

I groaned aloud. "Why does everything get pushed onto me? I'm just an assistant!"

She leaned forward from behind her desk, a faint trace of amusement in her eyes. "If you think being an assistant means slacking off, then tell me—what exactly have you done today?"

I began counting on my fingers. "Well, first, I picked you up, didn't I? Second, I made your tea. Third, I organized your documents. Fourth—"

"Enough with the nonsense," she cut me off, her impatience palpable. "If I tell you to do something, you do it. If you don't, your salary's getting docked."

"Sophie Summers, can't we have a little fairness here?" I sighed, exasperated, attempting to reason with her.

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"I can be reasonable with others, but not with you. You do as I say—no arguments," she declared, her tone as unyielding as ever.

"You…" Words failed me. Arguing so early in the day was exhausting. Frustration churned inside me like a smoldering fire with no outlet.

"Unlike some people, who coast through life without lifting a finger, we're out here working hard to earn a living," she sneered, her words dripping with mockery.

"And how exactly am I coasting through life?" I retorted, refusing to back down, though a sense of helplessness crept over me.

With a scornful laugh, she tossed a folder onto the desk in front of me. "Take this to Angela. Tell her to come to my office."

"Fine." Suppressing my simmering anger, I grabbed the folder and headed toward the administrative department.

On the way, the morning's quarrel replayed in my mind, souring my mood further. When I reached the office, I knocked lightly on the door. "Angela, this is from Sophie. She asked me to give it to you and said she wants to see you in her office."

Angela glanced up, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Alright, I'll head over now," she said, taking the file with a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

As I exited, I bumped into Charlotte Hayes. She greeted me with a radiant smile. "Ryan, come here—I've got something for you."

Intrigued, I followed her to her office. She opened a drawer and handed me a pack of cigarettes. "Take these."

"Charlotte Hayes, why are you giving me cigarettes out of the blue?" I asked, puzzled and slightly wary.

"Can't I be nice once in a while?" she replied, her tone playful and her gaze sly.

Feeling a bit awkward, I scratched my head. "This feels a little… out of place."

"Just take them." Her tone brooked no refusal.

"Alright, thanks." I accepted the cigarettes, though my curiosity only deepened.

"Are you free tonight?" she suddenly asked, her voice tinged with anticipation.

"Why?" My guard went up immediately.

"I want to treat you to dinner," she said, her eyes shining with a mix of expectation and nervousness.

"Tonight? I might not be able to. I already made plans with Vincent," I replied hesitantly, wondering what she was up to.

"One more person won't hurt, right?" She beamed, her tone brimming with confidence.

"Well, you'll need to clear it with him," I said after a brief pause, thinking it best to consult Vincent first.

"No problem. I'll talk to him myself." Her self-assured demeanor suggested she already had everything under control.

"Alright then," I relented, though a faint unease lingered.

"Ryan, add me on your chat app," she said suddenly, her voice taking on a coquettish lilt that sent an involuntary shiver through me.

"Sure." Taking out my phone, I scanned her QR code, though my apprehension grew stronger.

She moved with a practiced grace, occasionally smoothing her hair or swaying her hips in a way that seemed calculated to draw attention. Her charm was effortless yet deliberate.

"All set," I said.

"Great. See you tonight," she replied, her smile radiant and her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

Before the day ended, Vincent texted me with details about the dinner location and time. I informed him I'd need to drop Sophie off at her hotel first, so they'd have to wait. He chuckled over the phone and assured me, "No rush, we'll wait."

By five-thirty, Sophie Summers still showed no signs of wrapping up. Pacing outside her office, I grew increasingly anxious. Why wasn't she leaving yet? I didn't want to keep Vincent and the others waiting too long.

Suddenly, Sophie's piercing gaze snapped to me. "What are you pacing around for? Finished eating and now have nothing to do?"

"Sophie, I just wanted to remind you—it's already past quitting time," I said cautiously, treading lightly to avoid setting her off.

"Quitting time? If it's quitting time, then leave. Why are you still here?" Her tone was laced with irritation.

"If you're not leaving, how can I? Unless you want to drive yourself back to the hotel tonight?" I suggested tentatively, hoping she'd take the bait.