Chapter 144

Summer's POV

I dropped my smile. "A friend."

Heather's lips curled into a smirk. "Come on, Summer. Don't be like that. We're colleagues! I'm just trying to get to know you better. No need to be so secretive." The cheerful tone didn't match the calculating look in her eyes.

"Heather," I said, my voice cooling several degrees, "you're right that we're colleagues. And that's exactly why my personal life isn't something I need to share. I'd be happy to discuss work-related matters with you anytime."

Other employees were starting to notice, but Heather raised her voice. "I'm just trying to be friendly! You've only been here two days. There's no need to be so guarded." The implication was clear—she was suggesting I had gotten my position through influence. It was a calculated attack on my professional credibility.

I frowned, gathering my belongings. "I came to Stark Group to do a job. I have somewhere to be." As I walked away, I saw Leo standing behind Heather, his expression distinctly displeased. Clearly, he'd overheard her unprofessional behavior.

The garage was quiet when I arrived. Brandon was leaning against his car, looking up as I approached. "Sorry to keep you waiting," I called.

"You're right on time," he replied, taking my bag. As we settled into the car, he studied my face. "Where are we eating?"

"James mentioned a new steak place in Manhattan," Brandon replied, starting the engine. My mood instantly brightened. Just then, Brandon's phone rang—it was James. I noticed Brandon's expression darken slightly during the call, but he just turned to me afterward with that intense look.

"Did something happen at work today?" he asked as he leaned over to secure my seatbelt, his breath warm on my cheek.

"It was nothing," I insisted. "Just a minor thing with a coworker. I can handle it."

"You know you can tell me if there's a problem," he said. I patted his arm, assuring him I was fine. We enjoyed a quiet, expensive steak dinner before heading to the theater.

The movie theater was just around the corner. Brandon guided us to premium seats near the back—private enough, but still surrounded by the whispers of younger couples. He passed me a box of popcorn, which I set in the holder. "I'm still stuffed from dinner," I sighed.

The lights dimmed, and the theater hushed into a cocoon of shadows. I tried to focus on the romance on screen, but Brandon's presence was a massive distraction. I didn't notice at first when his hand settled on my thigh under the jacket he'd draped over my lap. I thought it was just a comforting weight, until his fingers began to move.

Slow, deliberate circles traced over my skirt, inching higher with every pass. My breath caught as his hand moved with a firm, unyielding touch that sent a jolt of electricity through me.

"Brandon," I hissed under my breath, my voice a shaky whisper. "What the hell are you doing?"