Knowing that someone was in the CEO’s Office Room, Nia Mitchell politely knocked on the door and only entered upon hearing the CEO’s voice telling her to come in.
The moment she stepped in, Nia Mitchell rolled her eyes wearily. She had anticipated Maxwell Peary to be in the middle of a business discussion here, but to her surprise, the person sitting in the Office Room was Alan Morgan.
"Coffee," Nia Mitchell announced, placing it on the desk. She then prepared to leave but was stopped by Maxwell Peary.
"What’s wrong?" Nia Mitchell asked.
She turned to look at Maxwell Peary curiously, but couldn’t decipher any valuable information from his expression.
"Alan, have you really decided?" Maxwell Peary asked.
He didn’t explain anything to Nia Mitchell, instead looking at Alan Morgan, who stood before him.
"Yes, Young Master Peary, I’ve decided to go to Sicily," Alan Morgan replied.
Alan had shown up at his Office Room unexpectedly today, asking for a transfer to Sicily. Sicily... Mafia territory. Alan would surely find it an arduous assignment. Yet today, he had... ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵※𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮※𝓷𝓮𝓽
"I’ve told you many times: don’t let your private life interfere with your work," Maxwell Peary stated firmly.
Shirley Grant had resigned due to personal issues, and now Alan Morgan was acting up .
"It’s not because of my private life. I just find the work here in Capital Town too mundane. I still prefer Sicily," Alan Morgan said.
He stood ramrod straight, exuding an iron resolve that Nia Mitchell found somewhat unfamiliar. She had seen a similar steeliness in Yancy Hastings.
"Alan, have I been too lenient with you?" Maxwell Peary asked, his eyes narrowed. His voice was low, laced with an uncharacteristic iciness, and his entire being radiated a cold, forbidding aura.
Nia Mitchell shivered, momentarily stunned. So, this is what the CEO looks like when he’s truly angry. His previous sternness with her was mere child’s play compared to this.
However, Nia Mitchell would only later realize that she would likely never grasp the true extent of the CEO’s anger, for he became increasingly enigmatic, increasingly unfathomable.
Of course, that was all in the future.
She swallowed nervously, secretly vowing to keep her own temper in check from now on. If she angered the CEO, she would really be in for it.
"I’m sorry," Alan Morgan said, suddenly lowering his head, his hands clenched tightly.
"Forget it." Maxwell Peary sighed, almost inaudibly. How could he bring himself to be harsh with this brother, who had faced life and death alongside him?
"I’ll give you a week’s leave. Rest well. After one week, I expect you to have pulled yourself together."
After Maxwell Peary finished speaking, he gestured for Alan Morgan to leave, but Alan remained rooted to the spot.
"Is there something else?" Maxwell Peary asked, observing Alan Morgan’s hesitation.
"Young Master Peary... what do you think of Shirley Grant?" Alan Morgan asked, looking earnestly at Maxwell Peary.
The CEO was known for his exceptionally keen judgment of character; hadn’t he himself been chosen by him at first sight? If the CEO thought well of Shirley Grant, then he would go and find her.
Alan Morgan silently cemented his resolve.
Maxwell Peary didn’t even need to look to guess Alan Morgan’s thoughts. But matters of the heart weren’t so simple that they could be decided by whether others deemed someone suitable. Marriage... how could it be based merely on someone being a ’decent person’?
"Alan, when you ask me this question, you already have your answer," Maxwell Peary said.
Alan Morgan froze, his previously relaxed fists clenching once more.
Did he... already have an answer? Just now, after asking that question, the answer he had hoped Young Master Peary would give... that was, in fact, his own answer. So, what had he been thinking at that precise moment?