Chapter 168: You’re Talking to Me About Class?

Chapter 168: Chapter 168: You’re Talking to Me About Class?

Before Claire could react, he grabbed her wrist, lifted her up, and set her down on the mahogany desk.

Claire leaned back from the force of his kiss, but he pulled her back, pressing her even closer.

Miles Warren took her hand and guided it to the buttons of his shirt.

"If your hands don’t want to write a love letter, they can help with something else."

He guided her hand to unbutton his shirt for him.

"Miles Warren,"

"Mm," he murmured, nodding.

In a daze, Claire remembered something. "Wait, Miles Warren, I’m supposed to be punishing you today..."

But Miles had already coaxed her into a better mood, and the last shred of her resolve vanished into thin air.

The blank stationery on the desk was crumpled beneath her, and a pool of ink had spilled.

Claire was nestled limply in a chair, drowsy. "Miles Warren, carry me to the shower. I’m tired."

"Alright, I’ll carry you."

In the bathroom, he washed his hands and then helped her bathe.

The whole time, she leaned against his chest with her eyes closed, on the verge of sleep.

He placed her on the bed. Claire mumbled a couple of times, turned over, and fell fast asleep.

Miles turned off the bedside lamp and went out to the balcony.

He dialed a long-unused number that had been saved in his contacts.

The call connected quickly, and a surprised voice came from the other end.

"Miles?"

"Yes, it’s me, Dr. Mercer. Sorry to bother you this late."

Miles’s voice was calm again. "About the treatment we discussed before, please schedule an appointment for me."

"Really? You’re willing to come?" The voice on the other end shifted from surprised to delighted.

Miles gazed toward the bedroom and hummed a soft "mhm."

「The next day.」

In the bed, Claire was sleeping like the dead.

Miles had been awake for a while. He walked to the bedside and placed a slightly apologetic kiss on her forehead.

’What we did in the study for the first time yesterday... I really went too far.’

He whispered in her ear, "My dear Claire, breakfast is in the kitchen. I’m leaving for the office."

The person under the covers stirred. An arm slowly emerged, fumbled for his wrist a couple of times and missed, then continued to grope forward with her eyes still closed.

A slight smile touched Miles’s lips, and he stepped a little closer.

Claire, half-awake, struggled to prop herself up, murmuring, "Wait..."

She fumbled in the nightstand drawer and pulled out a dark gray tie.

Miles didn’t own one like it.

’So she bought this for me?’

Claire was too sleepy to get up. Lying in bed, she said coaxingly, "Lower your head a little."

Miles obediently bent down, bringing his face close to hers.

Drowsily, she wrapped the tie around the back of his neck. Her fingers were clumsy as she fumbled with it, struggling to tie a crooked knot.

Claire tugged at it, adjusted it a couple of times, and then patted his chest in satisfaction.

"It’s handsome..."

After saying that, she collapsed back into the pillow like a toy with its batteries removed, falling asleep in a second.

Miles looked down at the tie, which had clearly been tied with the wrong steps.

The knot was wrong, and the two ends were uneven—it was uniquely ugly.

’But it’s adorable. I love it.’

Miles raised a hand and gently touched the crooked knot. Without fixing it, he turned and left the bedroom.

In the underground garage, Miles sat in the driver’s seat.

The car’s infotainment screen lit up, and a pop-up for an international conference call appeared.

He tapped to accept. On the other end were the heads of the Wall Street investment bank, ZJ.

The lead executive began respectfully, "The initial transfer has been completed for the industries in six sectors..."

Miles raised a hand, signaling them to pause.

The group on the other end immediately fell silent, their expressions visibly tensing.

They all exchanged glances, their hearts tightening with a sudden, inexplicable nervousness.

’Is there a problem with the project data? Or the progress?’

The car was silent for two seconds.

Miles tilted his head, aiming the camera at the shamelessly ugly gray tie on his chest.

He asked, "Is it nice?"

The overseas executives: ...

They snapped back to reality. Every one of them was sharp-witted and quick on the uptake.

"It’s nice, very nice!"

"The texture of this tie, the shade of gray, it perfectly complements your disposition!"

"It’s simply perfect! High-class, tasteful."

’No doubt it was a gift from the woman who was in his car last time.’

The curve of Miles’s lips slowly deepened until he let out a low chuckle and started the car with one hand.

"Continue with the report."

The executive reported with smooth professionalism, "As per your previous instructions, all apparel assets have been sold off at low prices, with a book loss of approximately 1.8 billion."

Miles’s gaze was fixed on the road ahead, his expression unruffled.

"Mm, noted."

’As long as Claire stops treating me like an imaginary enemy, stops worrying every day about ZJ returning to the country, then the money is irrelevant.’

"Also, MK has been making a lot of moves. They’ve teamed up with several domestic banks to try and cut off our transfer channels."

The car stopped at a red light.

Miles tapped his fingers on the steering wheel twice, slow and deliberate.

"Do I need to teach you what to do?"

The other end was silent. No one dared to respond.

"Last year, MK acquired a plot of land in Morrow. Their cash flow is tight right now."

"Go drive up the prices. Find their building material suppliers, intercept all of their supply contracts, and triple the quotes. On top of that, request a loan audit from the banks."

Someone on the other end spoke up cautiously.

"If we do that, all of MK’s initial investment will go down the drain. Isn’t that a bit..."

’After all, it’s better to keep things amicable in business.’

Miles’s eyes were cold, his demeanor ruthless and decisive—a completely different person from the man who had just been fondly admiring his tie.

"Or what? Should I fly over there, apologize in person, and beg them to let ZJ’s assets return to the country?"

The video call ended. The car pulled up in front of the Warren Pharma building.

Before getting out, Miles sent Claire a message.

[Let me know when you’re up. I’ll have Mrs. Wells come over to heat up breakfast for you.]

Only after the message was sent did Miles enter Warren Pharma.

The lobby was bustling. In the center of the crowd stood a middle-aged man with an arrogant expression and impeccable attire.

It was Caden Monroe, the executive parachuted in from Warren Headquarters to split Miles Warren’s authority.

Caden Monroe looked down from the bottom of his heart on Miles Warren, who had abandoned medicine midway to go into business and take over the group.

A group of old shareholders crowded around him, fawning over him. It was clear they intended to use Caden Monroe’s new influence to put Miles Warren in his place. Miles had given them a hell of a time recently.

A flash of contemptuous scrutiny passed through Caden Monroe’s eyes.

"So, the young Mr. Warren still knows he has a job to come to."

"You haven’t shown your face for days. I was starting to think you’d forgotten all about the group."

The surrounding shareholders chimed in.

"He’s still too young. Took over the business halfway through with no foundation in commerce. A bookworm like him has no talent for it either."

"He even made us recall some of the drugs. Such a huge loss! If it were you, sir, you would never make such an absurd decision."

"A doctor will never know how to run a business. With him in charge, Warren Pharma is finished."

...

Miles stood there, his expression calm, a gentle and refined smile on his lips. As they spoke, he simply nodded.

He glanced down at his phone. Claire hadn’t replied.

’It seems she really was exhausted last night.’

Seeing that he didn’t argue, an old shareholder behind Caden Monroe grew even bolder.

The old codger continued his attack, looking at the crooked tie around his neck and scoffing.

"Not only is his business acumen lacking, but his personal presentation is also a mess."

"You hold a position of power, so you must act the part, Miles Warren. Your every word and action represents the face of the group."

"How dare you wear such a crooked, cheap, and tacky tie out in public? It’s messy and utterly classless!"

The warm smile on Miles’s face instantly vanished. He lifted his gaze and shot a look straight at the man.

"You old fossil, you think you’re qualified to talk to me about class?"