I feel every eye in the room on me, yet I manage to stand still-smiling calmly. Frank's incisive gaze is where mine settles; his expression is unreadable, his body rigidly tense. There is a continued silence, which speaks volumes of their expectation for me to say my piece. And then I do:.
"Miss Wang," I said, the words hanging in the air. "I know you presented your design, but now it is my turn. Wasn't that a competition? And I also have full rights to present my work too.
Frank's lips tighten a little, and he leans back into the seat at the head of the table, regarding me with interest mixed with incredulity. The other men in the room, his employees, my colleagues, fidget in their seats, uncertain in their assessment of me. Had they indeed been expecting me to fawn? Apologize? Explain
