CHAPTER 28: CHAPTER 28: SOME REACTIONS

Can’t possibly say, was looking at Young Hawthorne.

Poppy Hale hastily averted her gaze, planning to crawl out from under the table.

Thinking about leaving quickly.

Avoiding having someone come over again soon.

But forgot she was still holding a carton of pure milk in her hand.

As she stood up, bracing against Declan Hawthorne’s leg, most of the milk in the other hand was squeezed out by Poppy Hale, all spurting out through the straw, splattering onto Declan Hawthorne.

Especially the legs, the suit pants were covered in milk.

Declan Hawthorne gritted his teeth, his face darkened, and said word by word, "Poppy. Hale. Is this your doing?"

Poppy Hale fumbled in a panic.

Quickly threw the remaining milk into the trash, grabbed a box of tissues, and wiped the stains on Declan Hawthorne.

"I’m sorry, President Hawthorne, I didn’t do it on purpose."

Declan Hawthorne’s outfit looked very expensive at first glance.

Poppy Hale had been pampered and raised since childhood.

She also knew that for shirts and suits to fit, they must be custom-made.

While mentally calculating how much these clothes would cost, Poppy Hale kept apologizing.

Even after wiping with tissues several times, she couldn’t get rid of the strong milky smell.

Poppy Hale looked up, "President Hawthorne, I’ll compensate you."

Declan Hawthorne stared at her.

She fumbled, completely disorganized, and her hands unconsciously wiped places they shouldn’t, causing all of Declan Hawthorne’s energy and blood to rush to one spot.

He let out a muffled grunt.

"You go out first. Later, I’ll look for you."

"Then these clothes..."

Declan Hawthorne with a cold face.

"I have replacements in my office."

Poppy Hale didn’t move, negotiating carefully, "Then can I send this suit for dry cleaning?"

That way, at least the compensation amount could be minimized.

Declan Hawthorne saw she didn’t leave and straightforwardly pulled her hand, placing it where she had been looking under the table.

"Are you sure you still won’t go?"

If she didn’t leave, he wasn’t sure what irrational things he might do.

Poppy Hale’s face flushed red in an instant.

The office door opened and closed.

The interior fell silent again.

The best-lit independent office in the entire building, with a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminated every corner brightly.

Only Declan Hawthorne stood in the shadow of the display shelves, engulfed in darkness.

With a click.

The cigarette in his hand lit up.

Declan Hawthorne didn’t have a big smoking habit. Hardly smoked during school, and only did so now under work pressure or when unsettled.

After finishing a cigarette, Declan Hawthorne got up and went to the adjacent office washroom.

Took off his suit jacket and tossed it aside, in the mirror, he looked rather pathetic.

Milk all over his pants, with white milk stains remaining after some wiping, even tissue debris, looking somewhat ridiculous.

Yet.

He knew Poppy Hale was watching him, and seeing her expression, his body involuntarily reacted.

Plus, he got splattered with milk, making the current scene almost unbearable to look at.

As if he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Declan Hawthorne didn’t understand why every time he met Poppy Hale, his body seemed to flip another switch.

-

After washing and changing into fresh clothes, Declan Hawthorne fastened his buttons and walked out.

Returned to his usual demeanor.

Morgan Sloan knocked and entered.

"President Hawthorne, do you want to fire Young Hale?"

Declan Hawthorne frowned.

"No."

Morgan Sloan quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

Declan Hawthorne asked, "Did Poppy Hale say herself? That I want to ’optimize’ her?"

"Not quite. Young Hale just submitted her resume to one of our subsidiaries, I thought you planned to optimize her."

Poppy Hale had sent resumes to about twenty different companies.

And didn’t notice she even submitted to a Hawthorne Group subsidiary.

Coincidentally, that HR account was run by Morgan Sloan.

Upon checking, Poppy Hale’s activity on the job app was half an hour ago.

Declan Hawthorne didn’t look pleased, rubbing his temples.

"There’s nothing like that. I wanted her to come so that her team could handle a game project."

Hawthorne Group had developed quite a few games.

Among them, one was in the planning stage but looked a lot like the type Poppy Hale used to play back in school.

Declan Hawthorne thought, she probably still likes that sort of thing.

As a businessman, considering the interests, Declan Hawthorne believed giving such a project to Poppy Hale shouldn’t be a problem.

As for submitting resumes.

"Employees have the right to job-hop, but leaving now means no year-end bonus. Let her decide for herself."

"Understood, President Hawthorne."

Morgan Sloan walked to the door and let out a deep breath.

Every time he reported to President Hawthorne, he was on edge, afraid of misspeaking.

Morgan Sloan hurried back and told Poppy Hale to rest assured and work well.

He also sugarcoated what Declan Hawthorne had said.

As a qualified Chief Eunuch, Morgan Sloan believed the Emperor’s orders needed embellishing!

"President Hawthorne thinks highly of your abilities, do well, and your year-end bonus won’t be small! If you’re unhappy with the company, talk to me."

Poppy Hale suddenly remembered.

She really did submit a resume.

"I clicked wrong, I didn’t plan to switch jobs."

After Morgan Sloan left, Poppy Hale still couldn’t calm down.

Her mind was filled with the accidental milk spill all over Declan Hawthorne.

She turned to ask Amber, "Amber, can Flower’s clothes be dry-cleaned?"

Being an old-school Italian handmade brand, Amber also had a few Flower pieces.

"No, Flower’s clothes can only be sent back to the brand for cleaning if dirty. Round-trip international shipping costs tens of thousands, so generally, no one cleans them."

"I save a few to wash at once or don’t wash."

Poppy Hale’s heart sank halfway.

As expected.

Rich people’s clothes aren’t meant to be worn a second time.

Checked online, the same style of suit cost seventy to eighty thousand.

Not counting the custom fees.

If Declan Hawthorne insisted on compensation, Poppy Hale gritted her teeth, she could afford it.

But with the past two months covering Florence Lynch and Mrs. Hale’s medical expenses, there’d be no money left.

Seems like she needs to take on more side jobs.

-

In the tea room, Rachel Rivers brewed herself a cup of tea.

Heard unintentionally Morgan Sloan mentioned there was a cocktail party tonight, yet they hadn’t decided who to send.

Her eyes lit up, she approached, about to volunteer before hearing Morgan Sloan say: "You can’t."

"All very important clients, including Mr. Coleman from Stellaris and Mr. Beckett from Ridgeview, you don’t know them. It’s best to send someone familiar with the clients."

Rachel Rivers happened to know both gentlemen.

She had met them at the Rivers Family’s cocktail parties before.

Her eyes shifted, "Decl... is President Hawthorne going?"

Morgan Sloan eyed Rachel Rivers cautiously, "He’s not."

Of course, he was.

But, afraid Rachel Rivers might pull some stunt, Morgan Sloan simply said Declan Hawthorne wasn’t going.

Rachel Rivers smirked and said, "Let Poppy Hale go, she’s in marketing, familiar with the clients, and she looks decent."

Most importantly.

Those two directors were infamous womanizers.

If Poppy Hale went alone to that kind of event, she might not come out unscathed.