NovelStart
Chapter 715
When the phone rang, Damon was lounging behind his desk. He glanced in the direction of the coffee table, then
got up and walked to the sofa to pick up Chloe’s phone, eyeing the unfamiliar number on the screen.
He swiped the screen with his long finger, then casually put the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Summers… um… who is this?”
Shawn initially wanted to get straight to the point, but he quickly realized that the voice at the other end wasn’t
Chloe’s.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt“What’s up?”
Damon didn’t answer his question directly, but the day’s events were enough for Shawn to figure out who was on
the other end of the line.
“Mr. Harper, I need to speak to Ms. Summers…”
“What’s up?” Damon asked patiently, though his tone was becoming noticeably impatient.
“Uh… well, Mr. Harper, today…”
Shawn shared the story about Philip not showing up for filming and his relationship with Keira, and the Twitter
drama, before finally getting to his point.
“I need the photo from Chloe’s phone of Philip at the café.”
“Mm.”
After listening, Damon simply responded curtly and hung up the phone. Before Shawn could react, his phone pinged
with a message – the photo had been sent.
After sending the photo, Damon put the phone back where it was and casually picked up the half–finished
paperwork Chloe had been dealing with, raising an eyebrow slightly.
By the time Chloe woke up, it was already two–thirty in the afternoon. She was slightly surprised at the room layout,
but quickly figured out where she was. Checking her watch, she was amazed to find that she had slept until past
three in the afternoon.
Remembering the unfinished paperwork, Chloe bit her lip in frustration and quickly got out of bed. She looked
around for her shoes but couldn’t find them.
So, barefoot, she went to find Damon. She opened the door to the lounge, “Damon, my shoes…”
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmAs she lifted her head, Chloe’s words died in her throat.
In front of Damon’s desk stood five or six men in suits of varying ages, but generally on the older side. They were
all looking at her with a mix of bewilderment, confusion, shock, embarrassment, and some clear disdain and
contempt.
Chloe, still sporting short hair and a wrinkled loose shirt with two buttons undone, was facing an awkward silence.
Her shirt slid off her shoulder, revealing her right one.
Chloe was wearing Damon’s white shirt with nothing underneath; her underwear from the dressing room had been
tossed somewhere by Damon. Despite the shirt’s good quality, which saved her from any accidental exposure, the
exposed shoulder and the off–center shirt were suggestive.
Especially when combined with her overall disheveled appearance and the red marks scattered on her bare skin, it
didn’t take much to guess what she’d been through.
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