XA'HAO
The rhythmic tap of Li Xa'hao's fingers against the keyboard was a familiar sound in the outer office of Rising Flames Group's CEO. She pulls a pen out of her rat-nest of a hair, and write on her clipboard. Here she is doing another overtime. If only her mother could see her now, her beautiful raven hair will go grey from her incessant worrying about her workacholic ways. That she should find a nice guy and settle down, to save the family line from dying.
She snorts at that thought. Dating is out of question right now, the pool of eligible men are infested with pricks, narcissists and misogynists. She hadn't met a man she didn't want to wallop over the head over for something they've done or said wrong. And with her infamous temper, the chances of her mother meeting 'a nice son-in-law is lower than a snowball in hell. He'll run faster than it can melt.
She wipes a tired hand on her face, and sigh, her back aches like the devil's playing on it since morning, trying to finish this proposal she being tasked to finish. She glared at the highly polished mahogany door like it's the reason she's still at work and not the man sitting behind it. Lately she's been thinking of handing over her resignation and walking over, working here all these years had taken their toll on her, she typed in the last word, and sent the document over. Xa'hao logged out of her computer and pulled on her coat, she picks her handbag and strides out of there. She strides in the elevator and punches in the floor level for the parking lot, and watch I satisfaction as the doors start closing.
"Are you done already?"
Xa'hao stares at the tall, lithe man in black suit, his almost slanted golden-brown eyes survey her from head to toe, she shivered, and takes a step back forgetting that her back is already touching the metallic wall of the elevator.
If the devil exists, Xa'hao is confident that he is the very one in the flesh. If he wasn't human, she'd be convinced that he is a demon.
Her eyes helplessly drink him in thirstily, his dark hair is slicked back, but a few strands escaped their stiff prison to caress brow. Her fingers itch to slick them back in place, his face is all shadows and angles, almost effeminate, if one doesn't look properly he could mistaken for a woman. Made hard to believe by his sensual pink lips that begs all women to steal kisses. But one look into those golden-brown eyes all thoughts of kissing go out the window. He has a knack of making you feel his displeasure without saying a word.
"Yes Mr. Zhao. Was there more?" she say through gritted teeth.
"Not that I know Ms. Li." He slips hands into his suit trousers and turn to me. He leans towards her, his eyes take in her dishevelled hair, he pulls a hand out of his pocket, his breath wafts on her cheek, her eyes widen, and stared at him in shock. His gaze falls on her lips for a split second.
He's not trying to kiss her? Is he?