"Handso, are you sure you're not sitting in the wrong seat?" Stephanie asked with a smile.
She didn't seem angry. After all, the man across from her—dressed like so kind of detective—was quite good-looking, and she happened to be a hopeless sucker for handso faces.
"No, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be," the detective-like man said, taking a puff from the small black pipe at the corner of his mouth and blowing out a lazy smoke ring.
"Oh? Then are you here to get to know ?" Stephanie asked sweetly.
This wasn't the first ti she'd dealt with sothing like this. She was beautiful, and with her family background, she had more admirers than she could count.
But that also ant her standards were extrely high. She'd never been interested in any of them.
The handso ones? She thought they lacked ability. The capable ones? Either too old or too ugly.
The rare ones who were both handso and competent? Nearly nonexistent.
Of course, if a guy looked good, she didn't mind saying hello. Everyone appreciated beauty, after all.
"I'd say we already know each other now, wouldn't you agree… Miss Stephanie?" the man said with a faint smile.
The mont he said her na, Stephanie realized this wasn't just so random guy trying to flirt with her.
If he were just a stranger taken by her looks, there's no way he'd know her na.
But if he were soone she knew, she would've rembered him. She'd been trained in intelligence work since she was a child—maybe not with perfect recall, but she definitely never forgot a face, especially not a handso one.
She was sure they'd never t before.
Yet he knew her na, ca to this exact restaurant where she was a regular, and showed up at the right ti.
That many coincidences didn't add up.
She calmly put down her knife and fork, one hand quietly moving beneath the table as she kept her polite smile.
"I don't even know your na yet, handso. That seems a little unfair, doesn't it?"
"Raymond. Raymond Fong," the man replied with a smile.
"Raymond, huh? Nice na." Stephanie smiled back. "So, Mr. Raymond, what brings you here to see today? What advice do you have?"
"No advice," Raymond said, waving a hand. "I'm just here for an interview."
"Interview?" Stephanie blinked, clearly not expecting that answer.
Did I read this wrong? she wondered.
As the only heir of the Malick family—daughter of Gideon Malick—Stephanie technically had ownership over a number of businesses.
But hiring people? That was never her job. She had entire HR departnts for that.
So how did this guy even get her schedule? And why co all the way here?
She shook her head. "I don't handle that. If you're looking for a job, go through the proper channels. Tricks like this won't get you hired."
"No, no, you've misunderstood, Miss Stephanie," Raymond said with a grin. "I'm not here to apply for a job. I'm actually hiring."
"Hiring? You an… you're interviewing ?" Stephanie asked, wondering if she'd misheard.
"That's right," Raymond replied without hesitation.
Stephanie burst out laughing, so hard she nearly cried.
It had been a long, long ti since anyone had amused her this much.
Soone wanted to interview her?
Could anything be more ridiculous—and more entertaining?
"Miss Stephanie, you have a beautiful smile. I think you'd make a great secretary," Raymond said seriously, rubbing his hands together.
"? Your secretary?" Stephanie's eyes narrowed slightly.
The hand she had placed under the table now ca up, covered with a napkin to avoid drawing attention from nearby guests.
But Raymond, sitting directly across from her, clearly saw what was in her hand—a pistol.
She clicked the safety off and asked, "What did you just say? I didn't quite catch that. Mind repeating it?"
"Tsk tsk… No wonder you're the Malick family's princess. That's so serious fire," Raymond said casually.
"Who are you really? I don't have ti to play gas. Tell what you're really here for," Stephanie said coldly, all trace of humor gone.
"Shoot ."
"What?"
"I said—shoot ."
"You think I won't?"
"Oh, I know you will. That's why I'm asking: can you hurry up already?"
"You…"
"Shoot !" Raymond suddenly slapped the table.
Stephanie's face flushed with anger. This was one of D.C.'s most high-end restaurants. If she fired a gun here, she'd imdiately beco headline news.
Even if her family could suppress the fallout, she'd be forced to lay low for a long ti.
Not that killing soone was hard for her—she just preferred not to draw that much attention.
"You won't? Fine, I will!"
Raymond suddenly snatched the gun from her hand and pointed it at her instead.
Stephanie gasped. "Don't do anything crazy!"
In her panic, she also felt confused—How did he grab my gun so easily? That kind of mistake wasn't like her at all.
"If you kill , you won't escape. Everyone here saw—" she started, trying to calm him.
"Oh? Did they?" Raymond chuckled. "Then look around—tell who's watching."
Stephanie froze. He had a point.
Given the noise earlier—slamming the table, grabbing a gun, aiming it right at her—soone should have looked over.
But… no one had. Not a single person had even glanced their way.
It was like the two of them didn't exist.
Her heart dropped.
She wasn't new to this ga. Her father was one of Hydra's top leaders. She knew what this ant.
The man sitting across from her… was likely a superhuman.
No wonder he's so fearless, she thought grimly.
Hydra had their own superhumans. Even her father, who'd taken the super-soldier serum, technically counted as one—though a weak one, relatively speaking.
So she knew just how arrogant so of them could be.
They gained powers and imdiately thought they were invincible, above all rules.
Sure, most of them were nothing in the face of state power. But they didn't seem to think so.
Still, now was not the ti to provoke this guy—not with a gun pointed at her.
"Just calm down…" Stephanie said softly, trying to soothe him.
"I am calm," Raymond said with a smile, lifting the gun slightly. "Go ahead—keep talking."
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