Brothel Manager : Unexpected Encounter with A Hidden Family Heirloom-Chapter 311 : Guess Her Name...!
Note: Thank you ""@Alex_V_7892"" for 12 Golden Tickets.
TQ "@LilBlue" for 9Golden Tickets.
TQ @michael_Elkie @Chris_Okamoto @Alberto_Pellot and @Chymor for GT. Continue reading at novelbuddy
_
"What’s that noise?" Das’s voice interrupted his texting with Ria, a note of irritation evident as he inquired about the disturbance. Without looking up from his phone, he seemed absorbed in his virtual exchange.
The secretary, well-versed in handling such moments, entered the room with a composed demeanour. Her heels tapped lightly on the floor as she approached his desk. "I apologise for the interruption, sir," she began, her tone measured and respectful, "but there are two individuals outside who are requesting to meet with you. They arrived without a prior appointment."
As her words reached his ears, Das’s attention finally shifted from his phone to the secretary. His gaze, piercing and perceptive, met hers, and his curiosity was instantly piqued. His fingers stilled on his phone, and he regarded her with a hint of intrigue. "And who might these unexpected visitors be?"
The secretary maintained her composure, her voice steady as she provided further context. "They represent a major business firm in the city, one that specialises in clothing. They’re insistent on meeting you directly."
Das’s lips curved into a brief smile, his interest clearly evident. "Persistent, are they?" he mused aloud, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He pondered the situation for a moment, considering his options.
His gaze shifted to the window, his thoughts lingering on the individuals waiting just beyond his office. Activating his special vision, he focused on the figures outside, observing them through the wall. The subtle changes in his perception revealed their presence and general demeanour. Das eyes went wide for a second as he saw a familiar figure, waiting outside. A playful smile appeared on his face.
"Alright," he said finally, his tone holding a mix of curiosity and resignation. "Send them in."
The secretary nodded in acknowledgment and went outside to invite the two people who came uninvited.
With a sense of anticipation, Das leaned back in his chair, his mind already assessing the potential dynamics of the upcoming encounter. The world of business often brought unexpected interactions, each unveiling its own set of opportunities and challenges. And now, as he waited for the visitors to enter, he felt a familiar thrill.
As the door began to swing open, Das focused his attention on the mobile screen.
As the door swung open, the figures of the two visitors became clearer to Das, his special vision offering him insights before their physical presence fully registered. His attention remained fixed on his phone, engrossed in typing out a message to Sheela, the school beauty who had captured his interest.
Beside her, a middle-aged man moved with the assistance of a black wooden stick, a distinct aura of satisfaction emanating from him. His grin seemed to echo a blend of contentment and eagerness, a representation of unspoken desires.
The woman’s reaction was immediate, her astonishment evident in the widening of her mouth as her gaze locked onto Das, who appeared deeply engrossed in his phone, seemingly unfazed by their entrance. A brief moment of disbelief swept over her, an internal struggle to reconcile the unexpected encounter. Yet, she quickly composed herself, veiling any traces of surprise.
As the two visitors reached his table, they halted, the woman’s eyes assessing Das while the man wore his anticipation openly. They stood there, united by a shared purpose but distinct in their individual motivations. The atmosphere in the room crackled with an unspoken tension, the weight of their presence in Das’s territory palpable.
The seconds ticked by as they awaited his response, their fates entwined in the threads of this critical interaction.
"How dare you cause a mess at my place? Do you think this is a joke?" Das’s voice, devoid of any amusement, cut through the room, the gravity of his tone underscored by his unwavering focus on his phone screen. The woman and the middle-aged man before him exchanged a brief glance, the weight of his reproach clearly registering.
"Sir, please forgive us. We didn’t have prior information of your presence. That’s why we couldn’t book an appointment," the Middle aged man’s voice, edged with apology, conveyed their predicament.
"Don’t treat us like all the other small firms. Before your new company even arrived, my clothing business held the number one spot in this city," the middle-aged man’s voice carried a note of pride and defiance. He seemed intent on asserting his position.
The air in the room crackled with tension as the exchange continued.
"Stop your nonsensical talk. I’m not interested in knowing your background," Das’s response, tinged with impatience, didn’t waver as he remained absorbed in his phone, giving the impression of being unyielding.
The middle-aged man, momentarily silenced, found himself unable to counter the assertiveness of the young man who seemed unswayed by his stature or age. The room hung in an uneasy silence, the dynamics of power shifting beneath the surface of their conversation.
"Sir, we didn’t come here to cause any inconvenience. We came here with a business collaboration proposal. Please allow us a moment to present our project details. If you don’t find it suitable, we’ll leave immediately. We’re simply asking for a few minutes of your time," the woman’s voice carried a polite and requesting tone, a contrast to the tension in the room.
Her sweet voice brought back several memories to him. The intimate moments they spent together caressed his brain.
Before Das could shift his focus to the woman, the middle-aged man intervened with a burst of rebuke. "What do you think of yourself? I’m discussing matters with the young master. Don’t meddle in our conversation." His words were laced with annoyance and his tone held a cursing edge.
"Young master, I apologise on her behalf. Please don’t take offence," the middle-aged man’s apologetic voice cut through the charged atmosphere, his attempt to mitigate the situation evident. The room seemed to bristle with unresolved dynamics, a mix of assertiveness and apologies creating a curious interplay.
*Comment her name without checking next chapter.
_
Note: "Gifts are whispers of thoughtfulness, wrapped in moments of care."
This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.
_PeterPan_
