MORE THAN A SECRETARY

Sophia had been Dawson's secretary long enough to have acquired the veneer of a millionaire's personal assistant. She knew his behaviour could easily lead to a scandal, and she would be the one forced to take account of the situation, creating even more work for her. She had been waiting outside his hotel room for several minutes. "Mr Dawson! Please, for heaven's sake!" Again, there was silence. This time, growing impatient, she rattled the door handle and knocked harder. The reporters were already arriving, and it could lead to a huge scandal if he was found in a hotel room with a woman. Ed Dawson was known as the Investment God. His company had been built around the stock market, with its wealth coming primarily from investments and financial management. People paid enormous sums to gain access to his company's investment expertise and recommendations on which stocks were worth investing in. Over the years, the company had grown into an internationally recognised financial powerhouse. Ed Dawson himself was practically a genius when it came to investments. He had an exceptional ability to identify profitable opportunities, and it was almost unheard of for him to make a wrong investment decision. His expertise extended beyond ordinary stock trading. He had developed several investment strategies for businesses and organisations, helping them maximise their financial returns and manage their portfolios more effectively. His reputation was so impressive that even government agencies sought his company's assistance with specialised investment decisions. However, his professional life was a completely different story from his personal life. His weakness was women. He was a notorious playboy who changed girlfriends as frequently as other men changed their clothes. He enjoyed flirting and rarely allowed an opportunity to escape him. His love life was a complete mess, but his professional life was another story entirely. "Excuse me, madam." A waiter had just emerged from the staff room. "Do you have a key card?" Sophia asked, controlling her irritation and forcing a smile. "I think Mr Dawson must be sleeping." It was a VIP suite, and Ed Dawson happened to own the five-star hotel. Since she was his personal assistant, the waiter didn't question her request. "Yes, madam." She stepped aside as the waiter swiped the card against the door's verification system and opened it. Sophia thanked him before walking into the spacious lounge. She closed the door firmly behind her and came to an abrupt standstill. A faint, unfamiliar perfume lingered in the air. The suite was strictly private. Dawson had never allowed anyone else into his personal quarters, so the unfamiliar fragrance immediately caught her attention. Was it possible that Mr Dawson had brought a woman up here? Sophia wondered. This was a crucial period for the company. Their main reason for staying at the hotel was an important business meeting with a VIP client, who was expected to arrive that day to finalise a major deal. The media's attention was already focused on the hotel. It was almost certain that some reporters would disguise themselves as ordinary guests to record whatever interesting events took place. Dawson had sent her on an errand. Had he taken advantage of her absence to bring someone into his suite? Probably one of those ridiculously beautiful women or celebrities who paraded themselves around him like lost souls in search of financial salvation and connections. Sophia felt a surge of hot, indignant anger. His careless behaviour sometimes made her wonder if she was the only one taking their responsibilities seriously. "Sir!" She heard movement from Dawson's bedroom. A moment later, the door opened, and Ed Dawson stepped into the lounge, carefully closing it behind him. He wore a black corporate shirt, its sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of matching black trousers that sat loosely around his waist. The outfit was simple, but it did little to conceal his tall, well-built frame. His dark hair was slightly dishevelled, with a few strands falling across his forehead, while his usually immaculate appearance seemed somewhat disturbed. Sophia had never been able to tell what Dawson was thinking or how he was reacting to anything she said. His facial expressions were so difficult to read that whenever she spoke to him, she often had the impression that she was talking over a high wall to a voice answering from the other side. But this time, although his face was as expressionless as usual, she immediately sensed that he had brought an atmosphere of extreme tension into the room. She also noticed that his upper lip glistened with tiny beads of perspiration. "Why, hello, Sophia," he said, his voice just a shade too casual. "You're back early, aren't you?" Had he brought a woman into his room? Sophia wondered in disgust. Was someone in there right now, listening against the door to their conversation? "Didn't you hear me knocking, sir?" she asked. His expression made her uneasy, so she concealed her irritation and kept her voice as professional as possible. He moved further into the lounge, but Sophia noticed that he maintained a considerable distance between himself and the bedroom door. "I did think I heard something," he replied casually. "But I didn't know it was you." He took out the black cigarette case she had given him. As he lifted his left arm, Sophia noticed two ugly red scratches on the inside of his forearm. One of them was bleeding slightly. "You've hurt yourself," she said. "Be careful. It's bleeding." He glanced at the scratches before dropping the cigarette case onto the table. He picked up a tissue and wiped away the blood. "There was a cat in the corridor," he said. "It scratched me." The stupid, transparent lie made Sophia even angrier. She bit back a sarcastic retort and moved away from him, crossing to the window with her back turned towards him. Should she accuse him of bringing a woman up here? Her position as his secretary made such an accusation difficult. He might punish her with extra, unimportant work or deliberately reduce her salary. He might even tell her to mind her own business. Besides, there was still a possibility that she had misunderstood the situation, although she was almost certain she hadn't. Perhaps she should inform Dawson's mother, Margaret Dawson, and let her deal with her troublesome son. She had certainly had enough of him. His handsome face remained expressionless, but there was an unusual smile playing around his lips. It was a strange, almost mischievous smile that made her increasingly uncomfortable. She could see the reflection of herself in the window, her image appearing like a miniature snapshot. "There's a pendant here," she said. "How observant you are!" he replied, picking up the pendant. "You mean this? I forgot to put it back. I've been amusing myself with it." She couldn't explain why, but his remark sounded oddly sinister. "Oh, nothing. I was bored. I was just fooling around with it." He began moving slowly across the room towards her. The pendant dangled loosely from his fingers, swinging gently with each step. There was something about his silent approach that alarmed her. It was stealthy, almost threatening. She moved away from the window, her heart beginning to pound. Stepping around the table, she put some distance between them. The closeness was beginning to unsettle her, but she reminded herself that she had to remain professional and responsible at all times. After all, she was his secretary, not one of his girlfriends. Her heart was thumping wildly, and she was slightly breathless. "Sir, did you bring a woman up here?" she finally asked, although she couldn't bring herself to look directly into his piercing eyes. He released one end of the pendant and allowed it to swing freely like a pendulum. His gaze remained fixed on her. "How did you guess?" he said. He gestured towards his bedroom door. "You're quite right. As a matter of fact, she's in there now."