CHAPTER 51: CHAPTER 51- NOT EVEN A LITTLE?

Bert let out a laugh, faint creases appearing at the corners of his eyes.

"Which eye of yours saw me going easy on you? You and Silvia are both newcomers. Your skill levels are about the same—did I go easy on her too?"

Catherine had no answer to that, and before she could respond, he continued,

"I’m not a charity worker, and this company even less so. Everyone earns their place with their own ability. Even if I really had let you slide your way in, if you fail to produce results later, you’ll be eliminated all the same."

After that whole back-and-forth, Catherine was left with only one conclusion: she had overthought it. He really had just wanted to hire a designer for his company—not to help her.

The indignation she’d felt earlier evaporated, and she turned her gaze away, unable to meet his eyes.

Then his low voice drifted toward her again.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Hearing that, Catherine looked back at him. He stood there with his hands tucked in his pockets, his back against the glass window. His shoulders were broad and sharply defined, the crisp white shirt outlining a lean, powerful waist and torso.

His eyes were especially dark and deep—filled with time, memories, and emotions she couldn’t begin to decipher.

Catherine quickly looked away again, giving a half-truth in response.

"No..."

She wasn’t afraid of him—his gaze was simply too overwhelming...

He pressed on, "No? Then why won’t you look me in the eyes?"

Forced by his words, Catherine lifted her gaze again. She really had no way out this time, so she locked eyes with him to prove she wasn’t afraid to.

But it didn’t take long before she surrendered once more, tearing her gaze away and feeling her face heat up.

She had no idea how other women reacted beneath a gaze like his—but she knew she couldn’t withstand it.

"When will the ring be ready?"

He switched topics abruptly, returning to private matters.

For a moment, Catherine didn’t even react. They were at the office—he was her boss—so she had expected more lecturing, not... this.

Realizing what he’d asked, she hurriedly replied,

"It might take a few more days. I’ll remind the craftsman again later."

Last time, after she removed all the elements that deliberately catered to his taste and emailed him the redesigned draft, he had replied with nothing more than a curt "OK." So Catherine refined the blueprint on her computer and sent it to the craftsmen, urging them to speed up the process.

As her voice faded, silence fell between them again.

In that silence, he slipped his hands into his pockets and walked around the long rectangular conference table, approaching her with unhurried, long strides.

The moment he stopped in front of her, his tall frame blocked her view. The delicate buttons on his white shirt and the lean, sculpted lines of his torso came into focus—and Catherine instinctively stepped back.

His tone was calm, almost indifferent, as he asked,

"You’re a jewelry designer. You should know what a ring represents, shouldn’t you?"

Catherine’s heart sank.

Of course she knew—love, devotion, deep affection. People only gave rings to someone they were in love with, hoping to bind the other person to them with a small circle of metal.

But when she decided to design a ring for him, those thoughts had never even crossed her mind. She had only thought: He likes wearing rings, and I can design one. I might as well make him one.

Yet now—with his comment—embarrassment rushed up inside her. Her pretty face flushed bright red as she blurted,

"Can I... take back this gift?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think?"

Catherine also felt that taking it back now would be inappropriate. She had already promised him, the design was finalized, and the craftsmen were already working on it. So she hurried to explain earnestly,

"Then please don’t misunderstand. I only wanted to express my gratitude to you. It has nothing to do with... those improper romantic feelings between a man and a woman..."

The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was secretly infatuated with him and using a ring to hint at something. Heaven knows—her intention had purely been a gesture of thanks.

But while she was still stumbling through her explanation, he spoke softly,

"And what if I misunderstand?"

Catherine: "..."

"What if I misunderstand and think you have feelings for me?"

He stepped closer, his deep eyes locking onto hers, his voice low, warm, almost intoxicating.

"I—I don’t. I really don’t have... those kinds of feelings for you—"

Catherine denied it in a small panic, but he pressed on relentlessly,

"Not even a little?"

He stood so close that the mature, masculine sharpness of his presence wrapped around her with every breath she took, tugging inexplicably at her senses.

Cornered by him, Catherine felt truly overwhelmed. She didn’t know where she found the courage, but she lifted her face and looked at him with utmost sincerity as she tried to explain,

"Lord Washington, I truly have no improper romantic feelings for you. If giving you the ring made you misunderstand, then I apologize."

She suddenly remembered how Amy had mocked Silvia during the interview wait—saying that a man like him was far beyond the reach of girls like them. The memory cooled her thoughts, and she lowered her eyes, speaking softly,

"I know my place. So you don’t have to worry about me hinting at you or trying to cling to you."

A man as exceptional as him could only be matched with women who were just as exceptional.

Catherine didn’t want to be mistaken for the kind of woman who coveted his wealth and power, nor the kind who would use any means to climb into his bed. She wasn’t that type of person.

If she were to fall in love with a man, it would be because he touched her heart—because of his gentleness and the care he showed her—not because of money.

If she had ever been the type to sell herself for wealth, she would no longer be the person she was now.

But then... why did she feel that when she said she had no romantic feelings for him, he seemed almost disappointed? There had even been a flicker of irritation in his eyes. Did he... expect her to harbor those kinds of thoughts toward him?

She later convinced herself that it must simply be a man’s desire to conquer—most men liked to believe every woman they encountered would fall for them.

Bert, meanwhile, felt his mood plummet to the lowest point. His first attempt to test her had ended in complete failure. Of course he wasn’t happy.

Did she really not feel even the slightest something for him?