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Miller's presence before me catches me off guard, leaving me uncertain about how to react. His gaze oscillates between me and the painting he's crafted, a quiet intensity underlining his scrutiny. Drawing nearer, his lips are pressed into a tight line, a telltale sign of his inner thoughts. I tilt my head inquisitively, my mind churning with curiosity and a certain perplexity - what brings him to this moment, to stand here before me and his creation?
"Alexander Sterling's no longer the CEO," he observes, a touch of inquiry in his tone. "So, does that secure my piece as the centerpiece?"
I affirm with a nod. "Absolutely."
A smile of satisfaction plays on his lips. "He deserved to be ousted."
Suppressing the urge to voice my thoughts, I carefully choose my words. "By the way, I haven't received the information you promised."
A casual shrug is his response. "No rush. I held off until I was certain Alexander was out of the equation."
My lips part in a sigh of frustration. It baffles me how others failed to recognize that Alexander's dedication was firmly anchored in the gallery's success. I shift my focus, diverting my attention to the tour guide I've rescued from a potentially awkward situation. The atmosphere, however, remains tainted by Miller.
My gaze flickers to him, watching as he intently gazes upon his creation, his demeanor somewhat detached from the communal energy around us. The mixture of emotions coursing through me - annoyance, concern, and a hint of discomfort - creates a complex tableau, mirroring the intricacies of the gallery's intertwined relationships.
"How's the new CEO?" he inquires, directing his question at me.
Before I can respond, Aurelie saunters into the conversation, her presence commanding attention. "Tell him, Emma," she insists.
I catch my lower lip between my teeth, an involuntary nervous gesture, as I make the introduction. "Miller, this is our new CEO."
Aurelie's lips curve into a pleased smile. "Miller, the artist behind the centerpiece? Delightful choice."
My attention sharpens as I observe the subtle graze of Aurelie's hand against Miller's. His gaze lingers, fixated on the display of cleavage, and a sense of frustration gnaws at me. It's perplexing how some men seem to possess an uncanny ability to overlook everything else for one singular pursuit.
With a determined shift in focus, I reopen the tour guide in front of me, deliberately steering clear of the impending power play that Aurelie is orchestrating. At this moment, I'm resolute in not allowing her manipulative games to draw me on her web.
"Why not join us, Miller?" Aurelie's voice, laced with an inviting tone, rings out. "I wanted to suggest to Emma that we should have dinner together."
Miller's response is swift and agreeable. "Sounds good."
