Chapter 462

The rain poured down in torrents, fat droplets hammering against the corrugated metal roof with deafening force.

Ethan Roscente's slender fingers tapped rhythmically against the conference table, unhurried and controlled.

Lawrence Rosedale's forehead glistened with sweat, his dress shirt soaked through at the back.

"Mr. Roscente, I'll arrange the dormitory right away," he said, bowing slightly, his voice trembling.

Zachary Evans shot him a warning glance.

"That couple won't be needed tomorrow," Ethan suddenly declared, his voice as cold as ice.

Sophia Lowell looked up sharply.

In the dim light, the sharp angles of his profile appeared even more severe.

"Their son is still in the hospital—"

"What does that have to do with me?" Ethan cut her off, his gaze razor-sharp. "This is a construction site, not a charity."

A flash of lightning outside illuminated the frost in his eyes.

Lawrence's legs nearly gave out beneath him.

"I'll handle it immediately!"

The storm grew fiercer.

The makeshift prefab building groaned under the howling wind, its metal frame creaking ominously.

"Mr. Roscente, the mountain road's been washed out by a mudslide," Zachary reported grimly after hanging up the phone.

Vincent Laurent wiped the condensation from his glasses. "Looks like we're staying the night."

Lawrence seized the reprieve. "The dorms are ready! Mr. Roscente can take the east unit, and Mr. Evans and Mr. Laurent can stay in the west—"

"She's with me," Ethan interrupted, pointing at Sophia.

The air turned to ice.

Sophia clenched her fists. "I'll stay in the women's dorm."

"Are you sure?" Ethan smirked. "Twenty workers crammed in there. They can barely turn around."

"I'd rather squeeze in."

The man rose abruptly, his towering frame casting a shadow over her.

He leaned down, his whisper meant only for her ears: "Or would you prefer everyone knows about us?"

Sophia's pupils contracted.

Rainwater dripped through the roof's seams, pooling at her feet.

"Lead the way," Ethan commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

Lawrence scrambled to guide them.

At the end of the hallway, the so-called "dorm" was little more than a ten-square-meter shipping container.

A narrow bed. A desk and chair. Nothing else.

Ethan shut the door, sealing out the storm.

"Happy now?" Sophia asked bitterly.

The man leisurely undid his cufflinks. "Compared to twenty women sharing bunks, at least here..." He paused. "It's quiet."

Another lightning strike flashed.

In that split second of illumination, Sophia saw the turbulence in his eyes—

Like a calm sea hiding a coming tempest.