Chapter 89
Myra walked a few steps away from the car, but the sound of footsteps never followed her. The silence was deafening, and for some inexplicable reason, she felt a strange sensation stir inside her chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one she had never experienced before, but it felt real enough to catch her off guard. It wasn’t until the feeling grew stronger that she paused, gritted her teeth, and looked back.
Tony’s face was caught in a moment of surprise, though it quickly returned to his usual stoic expression, his mask firmly back in place. Myra’s heart fluttered uncomfortably at the sight, but she steadied herself and tucked a lock of hair that the wind had blown across her face behind her ear. Her voice, soft and hesitant, broke the stillness. “Director Hart… I owe you an apology. Back on the night of Old Master Hart’s birthday banquet, I said something I shouldn’t have. You’re not the kind of man who would take advantage of others’ misfortunes or disrespect women. I was wrong to assume that.”
She paused, taking a breath before continuing, trying to ease the tension that had settled between them. “I should apologize for that.”
It dawned on her as she spoke that Tony, a man with such high standards, had probably never been the kind of person to indulge in something improper, especially not with someone like her. She knew of his pride, his aloof nature, and the way he carried himself. Even at nearly 35 years old, the fact that he had never had a girlfriend only underscored the seriousness of his demeanor. And if he had ever loved someone, it was surely not a married woman like her.
“But,” Myra’s voice dropped as her thoughts clouded her mind, “I am still a married woman. It would be better for both of us to keep our distance moving forward, to avoid any unnecessary gossip.”
She could sense that Tony’s feelings for her weren’t merely platonic, but she no longer wanted to dive into that subject. She had just ended a relationship, and it would be unfair to either of them to start thinking about something new. For now, all she wanted was to focus on getting her life back on track, without complicating things further. She could be wrong about his intentions, but deep down, she wasn’t ready to entertain them.
Tony stood there, motionless, under the dim light of the streetlamp. His posture was rigid, and his expression remained inscrutable, like the frozen surface of a lake. Myra’s gaze swept over him, but she felt as though she could still sense the silent storm brewing within him. His lips, thin and tightly pressed, told her everything she needed to know.
The silence stretched on until Tony finally spoke. His voice was sharp, carrying an edge of confusion. “I don’t understand, Miss Stark. It was you who got into my car today. Why does it sound like you’re accusing me of latching onto you?”
Myra’s breath hitched, and she couldn’t help but feel the heat rise to her face. Her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, and she tried to muster the courage to smile, but it faltered before she could even get it right. She glanced down at her knee, where Tony had kindly bandaged her up earlier. “I—I’m going home now,” she stammered, her voice softer than before, almost apologetic.
Without waiting for his response, she hurried away, ignoring the throbbing pain in her leg. Her steps were quicker than usual, and as she approached the apartment building, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she had somehow misjudged everything.
Tony’s eyes, dark as night and filled with something unreadable, followed her retreating figure. His gaze didn’t waver as she fled from him, but just as she turned to disappear inside the building, his phone rang. With a swift movement, he answered the call, his tone sharp and cold. “Speak.”
Elliot, on the other end, immediately tensed, sensing the tension in Tony’s voice. “Didn’t you pick up Myra earlier, Tony?”
Tony’s face darkened, his mood shifting in an instant. “Get to the point,” he snapped, his grip tightening on his phone as the irritation slowly built within him. As he fiddled with his collar, a button popped loose and rolled onto the ground, making the situation even more frustrating. The sight of the button, followed by the loose thread dangling from his shirt, only heightened his frustration.
Elliot hesitated, clearly unsure of how to proceed. “Well, we’ve found a buyer for the Hilliville property, and we’re close to finalizing the deal. Should we go ahead?”