In the restaurant, a band played, and the slow, melodious music reached Charlotte Thompson's ears, but it did nothing to ease the agitation in her heart.
Her hand, originally resting on the table, tightened slightly, leaving subtle marks on the tablecloth with her fingertips.
Charlotte took a deep breath, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible:
"I think Mr. Battleson might be a bit off track. It's Riley Group's executive that you are collaborating with; I'm just a designer responsible for design. The phrase 'cater to their interests,' it doesn't need to apply to me."
Charlotte felt she had made her refusal quite clear, yet Leon Battleson, seemingly oblivious, continued to speak to Charlotte:
"What if these questions aren't about work, but rather stem from personal curiosity?"
Charlotte felt the veins at her temples twitch a few times.
