Thomas Sanders sat next to Arnold Simmons, idly twirling a pen in his hand, occasionally craning his neck to sneak a peek at what Arnold was doing.
From the end of the eting until ten minutes after, he had been glued to his phone.
Was the phone really that interesting?
Arnold bent his head, his finger paused on the last ssage Hannah had sent.
Probably thinking about his feisty little fiancée, he found it amusing and replied with a ssage.
——No, just saying you’re pretty and cute.
ssage clicked and sent.
Thomas sat beside him, struggling to restrain his raging gossip fla.
He had t Hannah before.
The first encounter had been at Arnold’s villa.
She was a stunning, spirited young woman in a red dress, standing confidently in front of people.
With her fair skin, red lips, and black hair, she was breathtakingly beautiful.
Even a seasoned playboy like him felt his heart stir; if the timing had been right, he might have fallen for her.
Fortunately, the infatuation lasted only a mont, and he managed to control himself.
Now, he didn’t harbor any ulterior motives, just pure curiosity, "So, your little fiancée has no plans to marry you yet?"
Arnold, flipping through docunts, paused, his expression softening at the ntion of that particular person, "We are engaged, marriage is just a matter of ti."
Actually, he didn’t care about the marriage certificate, as long as Hannah was willing to stay by his side.
But Thomas didn’t understand these things; he continued to dance on the edge of "danger" with his gossip-loving heart, "I heard that long-distance relationships often fade, but I wonder if it’s the sa with international relationships."
Hannah’s activities were mainly in the country, while Arnold’s company was based abroad, necessitating at least one trip overseas each month, usually for at least a week.
Thinking it over, it definitely counted as an international relationship.
The more Thomas talked, the more excited he got, completely oblivious to the danger, "I also heard that young ladies nowadays like dating younger guys; old n aren’t in demand anymore..."
He was speaking from personal reflection.
Arnold, marking a docunt with a pen, asked casually, "Don’t you have other work today?"
Thomas responded instinctively, "I have the afternoon off today."
As a General Manager, he still had the right to take a half-day off.
Arnold closed the docunt in his hands, "Well, you have work now. Take these docunts to the fifth floor."
Thomas was stunned, "That’s a job for the intern assistant."
Arnold, unflinching, looked suave and sophisticated in his suit and leather shoes.
Thomas belatedly realized that his boss was a tough character to gossip about, dressed all in black...
This is the end for !
Indeed, Arnold’s next sentence confird it, "Starting today, this is your job now."
Thomas couldn’t muster a smile.
Before leaving, the assistant even patted Thomas on the shoulder.
That was hardly a consolation.
Thomas didn’t feel comforted at all; he felt like crying.
Oh, the woes of his gossip-loving mouth!
Once he regained his composure, Thomas hurriedly followed Arnold’s steps, trying to make ands. Just as he was about to enter the President’s office, the assistant ahead suddenly turned around.
With a standard smile and polite tone, "I’m sorry, Manager Sanders... I an, this intern assistant, the President asks you to return to your workstation imdiately."
Thomas stood there unmoved, tiptoeing to peek into the office.
He could only see a silhouette at the window, likely on a phone call, turning his face as he smiled.
"I think I can still salvage this."
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