CHAPTER 179: YOU CAN SWEET TALK ALL YOU WANT.

"H-huh?"

The words of Mr. Wales hit like a thunderclap, and a cold chill raced down Charles’ spine as he stiffened beneath the desk, his heart pounding so hard it echoed in his ears.

Mr. Wales chuckled lowly, a knowing glint flashing in his eyes, before he finally pulled the door open and stepped out of the office, a smug, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Augustine eyes became wide open as he swiftly stood up from his seat.

"How the... how the hell did he know you’ve been hiding there all along?" Augustine muttered, more to himself than anyone else, his brows furrowed deeply.

"So he knew... he knew you were right under my office desk, and he still sat there, rambling about his ridiculous business plans like nothing was out of the ordinary?"

Augustine’s words drifted aimlessly, heavy with disbelief, but Charles stayed silent, his lips pressed into a tight line, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Charles’ remained quite, his legs trembled, feeling both weak and numb, making it almost impossible for him to stand upright.

After minutes of Augustine’s restless muttering and pacing, he finally tore his gaze away from the office door and turned sharply to face Charles.

There, under the harsh glow of the office light, Charles wore a deep frown, and to Augustine Charles looks adorably helpless.

"Pookie... my dad’s gone, you don’t have to keep hiding," Augustine whispered, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Charles scoffed in return, his frown deepening. His legs were practically dead—he couldn’t feel a thing.

"Charles," Augustine called again, this time lowering himself into a squat in front of him.

Still, Charles didn’t respond. He was too drained, too frustrated to even part his lips for a reply, simply glaring up at Augustine with a silent cry for help.

Sigh!

With no other option, Augustine slipped his arms around Charles’ waist and effortlessly lifted him off the floor.

He carefully placed Charles onto the office chair, his hands lingering for a second longer than necessary. "Are you hurt?" Augustine asked, concern flashing through his eyes.

"Just... just get me a bottle of water," Charles snapped coldly, his frown deepening, the irritation practically radiating off him with every passing second.

With a swift motion, Augustine darted toward the small fridge tucked in the corner of his office.

Yanking it open, he snatched a cold bottle of water, spun on his heels, and rushed back to Charles, thrusting the bottle into his hand.

Charles snatched it from Augustine’s grip with a low, aggressive hiss, the fury in his eyes sharp enough to slice through steel.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up from the chair, the movement rigid and fueled by raw frustration.

The moment Charles’ feet touched the tiled floor, his legs buckled, trembling violently as if his bones might snap under the strain.

Desperately, he clutched the armrest of the office chair to steady himself, his knuckles whitening from the force of his grip.

"Pookie, why don’t you just stay here for a bit?" Augustine coaxed gently, stepping closer. "At least let your body relax before you try to step out."

"Relax?" Charles scoffed bitterly, shaking his head in frustration. "If I stay in that chair, someone’s going to barge in again, and God knows how long I’ll have to hide under that damn desk."

"But I didn’t mean—" Augustine started.

"Just piss off." Charles snapped, cutting Augustine off sharply as he bit down on his lower lip, forcing his aching legs toward the door, every step a battle against the agonizing pain shooting through his knees.

As Charles stepped out of the office, he threw Augustine one last searing glance, a bitter sneer curling his lips.

"Earlier, I made up my mind that tonight, I’d make love to you... because I love you," Charles said coldly. "But after what my legs just went through, I renounce my words."

And with that, Charles slammed the door shut, the sharp bang echoing through the office room, leaving Augustine utterly speechless, staring at the door in stunned silence.

"So, Charles has finally decided to give himself to me? Then why the hell did my dad show up out of nowhere to ruin everything?" Augustine question himself as he began to pace back and forth in frustration while running his hands through his hair, irritation brewing beneath his usually calm exterior.

Meanwhile, Charles, still feeling the weight of everything, made his way towards the company cafeteria.

The idea of getting breakfast—something simple to calm his thoughts—felt like the only thing that could distract him from the storm of emotions raging inside.

After finishing his meal, Charles checked the time on his phone and cursed under his breath. It was already half-past eleven. "Damn, I’m going to be late for my shift," he muttered to himself, frustration bubbling up.

With a loud, exasperated sigh, Charles stood up and made his way out of the company building.

He quickly hailed a cab, hoping to get to the restaurant on time. The last thing he needed was to deal with being late, especially after the emotional rollercoaster of the morning.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, Charles stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and walked briskly inside.

As soon as he entered, he spotted the manager by the front desk.

"Good afternoon, manager," Charles greeted warmly, his tone shifting to professional as he approached the desk.

Despite the frustration from earlier, he was always quick to put on a pleasant demeanor for work.

She gave a warm nod in return, and Charles quickly headed to the staff changing room, where he changed into his uniform with practiced ease, tying an apron around his neck.

With efficient ease, Charles resumed his waiter duties and occasionally his thought drifted onto the chaotic scene that had taken placed at Augustine office.

’Gush, I’m such an idiot for hiding,’ Charles thought to himself, frustration swirling in his chest. ’If only I’d just acted normal, like I was cleaning or something when Freda stepped in the second time, none of this would have happened. They wouldn’t have noticed.’

He couldn’t help but replay the moment in his mind over and over again, mentally kicking himself for not thinking on his feet.

Charles body had acted on impulse, and now here he was, trapped in his own regrets.

’Fuck,’ he cursed beneath his breath with seethed teeth.

"Sorry, are you talking to us?" A young man asked, his voice cutting through Charles’ thoughts.

Startled, Charles snapped back to the present. He swallowed hard, shaking his head. "I... I wasn’t talking to you. I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice laced with a quick apology, and his face flushed with embarrassment.

The young man looked slightly puzzled but said nothing more, merely nodding as he turned his attention back to the meal that was served on his table.

Sigh!

Charles Donald worked for six hours and when his shift finally came to an end, he stripped off the waiter’s uniform, tossing it aside with a sigh of relief as he quickly changed back into his own clothes.

At exactly 6:30 p.m., Charles stepped out of the restaurant, the cool evening air hitting him like a sharp breath.

He let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the day seemed to press down on him all at once.

The sky loomed dark, heavy with thick clouds that threatened to burst open at any moment.

The road sidewalk buzzed with life, crowded by people hurrying along, their faces set with purpose as they raced against the coming storm.

’Why the hell does it rain every damn day?’ Charles muttered inwardly, his lips curling in irritation as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

*Ponk!*

Charles was slowly walking down the sidewalk of the road when he heard a loud, sharp honk tore through the air, jolting him from his thoughts as a sleek black Ford screeched to a halt just inches from him.

The side window slid down with a smooth hum, revealing Augustine Wales, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned halfway out

Before Augustine could even speak up, Charles jutted out his lips in a childish pout. "I’m not getting in. I’m still pissed about what happened at your office," he purred stubbornly.

Augustine chuckled, his smile lazy and coaxing. "Pookie, I never intended to upset you. I didn’t even know my dad realized you were hiding under my desk."

"Pfft!" Charles scoffed, rolling his eyes in pure disbelief. "Your Dad was literally aware you were stroking me with your damn feet."

"No, no... Charles, he didn’t see any of that!" Augustine defended quickly, shaking his head. "Besides, he has terrible eyesight. He probably didn’t even notice a thing."

Charles rolled his eyes, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "You can sweet-talk all you want, but I’m not getting in your damn car."

Augustine sighed, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. "Pookie... if you refuse to ride home with me, then I’ll step out of this car, spank your cute little butt, and seal your lips with a kiss—right here, in front of all these people—so everyone knows you have a boyfriend."

Charles snarled, his face flushing. "You dare not!" he spat, completely unaware of just how far Augustine was willing to go.