CHAPTER 178: STOP HIDING, CHARLES.

The door swung open, revealing Freda, the head cleaner, and a young lady from the clothing design department.

They were too engrossed in their lively conversation to notice what was happening inside the office.

With lightning reflexes, Charles dropped to the floor, slipping under Augustine’s desk-the only hiding spot that came to mind in his panic.

Augustine swiftly rose from his chair, forcing a deep frown across his face.

He cleared his throat, the low rumble slicing through the room. "Umm... excuse me," he drawled, his voice sharp and cold. "Isn’t it basic courtesy to knock before barging into my office?" His words cut through the air, heavy with irritation.

The three women froze mid-step, their eyes widening in pure shock as they quickly shifted their gaze from each other to Augustine.

A cold shiver ran down their spines, the weight of Augustine’s icy glare pressing down on them, sharp and unforgiving—like he could burn them alive with just a look.

"We... we’re sorry, sir," Freda stammered, her voice trembling as she spoke for herself and the others beside her.

Without wasting another second, they all bowed at a sharp ninety-degree angle, their movements stiff and frantic, before scrambling out of the office like frightened mice, slamming the door shut behind them with a loud thud.

Augustine sighed in relief. "Pookie, you can come out now," he purred, his voice laced with amusement.

Charles smiled, lifting himself from under the desk, dusting his knees as he rose to stand beside Augustine.

Crossing his arms, Charles snarled playfully, "I thought you claimed no one dared to enter your office without knocking first, Mr. Untouchable Augustine Wales—"

*Knock!*

Before Charles Donald could complete his phrase, a knock was suddenly heard coming from his the office door.

STUNNED!

Charles’s eyes widened in panic. "Wh-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered, glancing nervously at Augustine, his heart thudding wildly against his chest.

Augustine swallowed hard, raking a hand through his hair. "Umm... how about you hide under the desk again?" he suggested in a low whisper. "I’ll get rid of them as fast as I can, I promise."

Charles shook his head frantically, his face twisting in protest — the space under the desk was way too tight and uncomfortable.

*Knock! Knock!*

Another knock echoed sharply through the office, making Charles panic even more.

"Pookie... you have to trust me, okay?" Augustine whispered urgently, his voice low and reassuring as he gripped Charles’s shoulders firmly, trying to guide him down toward the cramped hiding spot beneath the desk.

Charles’s body reluctantly lowered, and despite his protests, he found himself squatting under the desk, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Sigh...

Augustine exhaled a loud sigh, his gaze cold as he slid his hands deep into his trouser pockets. His expression hardened, and with authority, he called out, "Come in."

Following Augustine’s command, the office door creaked open, and Freda, the head cleaner, entered first, followed by none other than Augustine’s father.

"Dad... what are you doing here?" Augustine stammered, his usual confident demeanor faltering.

’Augustine’s dad is here? Oh, shit, I’m so screwed,’ Charles thought frantically, his heart pounding in his chest.

His hand instinctively shot up to his mouth, nervously biting his index finger as he tried to control his panic.

Mr. Wales scoffed softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Am I not allowed to visit my own son?" He asked, his tone light but firm.

His warm smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he took slow, deliberate steps into the office. Reaching the chair directly opposite Augustine’s, he settled into it with a casual ease that made the air feel even thicker.

"Tend to your workers, son," he continued, his gaze locking with Augustine’s. "We have much to discuss."

’Fuck,’ Augustine cursed under his breath, his throat tightening as the reality of the situation settled in.

He swallowed hard, his mind racing.

With a quick shift of Augustine’s gaze, he fixed his gaze at Freda and the head staff manager, offering them a tight, forced smile. But words failed to come, the tension in the room making it hard to speak.

"CEO Augustine," The head cleaning staff began, her voice steady but with a hint of concern. "One of the company’s cleaners is very sick and currently in the hospital. And another cleaning staff just discovered she’s pregnant. Since her pregnancy has been taking a toll on her, she hasn’t been able to submit her resignation letter."

Augustine gave a small nod, signaling for the head staff to continue, though his patience was clearly waning.

The head staff shifted slightly, clearly feeling the weight of Augustine’s gaze. "Although, I know it was wrong not to inform you immediately when the cleaner fell ill, I honestly thought he’d recover quickly. At first, the illness didn’t seem that serious, but..."

Augustine exhaled sharply, pulling his hands out of his pocket as his fingers tap restlessly on the office desk.

The explanation was dragging on longer than he’d anticipated, and frustration began to flicker in his eyes.

Without waiting for her to finish, he cut her off with a heavy sigh.

"Enough," he muttered, his voice calm but edged with a subtle irritation. "What do you want from me?" He inquired, his voice was low, serious and each words that came out of his mouth carries the weight of authority.

The head staff quickly straightened, her voice hurried. "Nothing! We don’t need anything from you, CEO Augustine. We just wanted to inform you about the current situation with the cleaners."

Augustine exhaled as he massaged his temples, clearly trying to suppress his mounting frustration.

"Alright, I get it," he muttered, his voice softening just enough to convey a rare moment of understanding. "The both of you are free to take the day off tomorrow. Go visit the workers who are struggling with their health."

He paused, meeting their eyes. "Make sure they’re taken care of."

Freda and the head staff manager exchanged a surprised glance, both blinking in unison. "Wha...What?" they asked in disbelief, their brows lifted in confusion.

Augustine’s voice remained steady, unwavering. "You both should ask my secretary for the company card. Use it to buy gifts for the workers while you visit them. I want them to know that we’re supporting them through this." He paused, locking eyes with them to ensure they understood. "And if the workload is too much for the other cleaners, don’t hesitate to tell me. The company will hire a substitute cleaner until the sick ones are back on their feet."

The head staff cleaner and Freda stood frozen for a moment, their mouths slightly agape in disbelief, as their minds processed the sudden shift in tone.

The offer had caught them off guard, but they dared not question it.

"Well, if you both don’t have anything else to discuss, then please take your leave," Augustine continued, his voice as commanding as ever, yet carrying an undercurrent of finality.

Freda, still stunned, stammered out a quick, "O... okay," before she quickly turned on her heel and practically bolted for the door, with the head staff cleaner following her out in a hurry.

As the office door clicked shut, Augustine turned his gaze back to his father, his expression unreadable. "So, what brings you here, Dad?" he asked, his voice steady but with a hint of curiosity.

Mr. Wales father scoffed, eyes narrowing. "You act like you’re trying to get rid of me already," he sneered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Take a seat first, son. Then, I’ll tell you why I’m here."

Augustine swallowed hard, his throat dry as he settled into his chair, his legs brushing against Charles beneath the desk.

Augustine tried to mask his nervous energy with a confident tone. "So... what’s it, Dad? I have a meeting in five minutes," he lied smoothly, hoping to push things along.

Deep down, Augustine was pondering on how Charles would react for hiding beneath the office desk for so long.

Mr. Wales exhaled loudly, the sound almost a grunt, before leaning back in his chair with a piercing gaze. "Well, son," he began, "I’m here to discuss a few things about the other company business."

Without further ado, Mr. Wales exhale loudly as he began to state the reason for his visit which was mostly about work and occasional, Augustine would reply with an ’ohh,’ and sometime with a ’Yes.’

As Mr. Wales droned on about business deals and future expansions, Augustine’s focus wandered. Beneath the desk, his leg subtly slid higher, the side of his foot grazing up along Charles’s thigh in slow, deliberate strokes.

Charles stiffened, his heart hammering wildly as he tried — and failed — to discreetly shove Augustine’s leg away. But Augustine was relentless, his teasing growing bolder.

His foot traced dangerously close to the center of Charles’s pants, brushing against the growing heat there with a wicked slowness that made Charles bite down on his lower lip to stifle a moan.

Mr. Wales, oblivious, continued speaking, while Augustine smirked to himself, feeling Charles slowly crumble under his torment.

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Wales finally rose from his chair, brushing invisible dust from his trousers. "I think I should be on my way," he said, already turning toward the door with a casual wave of his hand.

Augustine exhaled quietly, relieved, but tensed again when his father suddenly halted in front of the office door.

"Augustine," Mr. Wales called, glancing over his shoulder, "Aubrey’s father called earlier. He’s inviting us over for his birthday. So, even though we haven’t fully dealt with the mess Aubrey caused, don’t forget — we still need to make an appearance."

Augustine nodded stiffly as Mr. Wales reached for the door handle.

Just as Mr. Wales twisted the handle, he smirked and said over his shoulder, "Oh, and Charles... you can come out from your hiding place now."

"H-huh?"