Chapter 347

If Janet were an insider sent by a competitor, Mason would currently be treading on thin ice. A single oversight, and she would have access to information that could dismantle empires. Behind them, White Python gave a subtle, respectful nod, his eyes never leaving the room.

Internal information? Janet was rendered speechless by the thought. She wasn't the slightest bit interested in the mechanics of the Lowry Family's business—she was just here to deliver a meal.

In the boardroom, the initial shock on the faces of the managers and assistants began to fade, replaced by a forced professional focus. They looked down at their documents, but the air was thick with the frantic, hushed energy of gossip.

Manager A: “What’s going on? Why did Young Master Mason bring a girl to a level-one briefing?” Manager B: “I have no idea. Is she his younger sister? A cousin?” Manager C: “Impossible. The Lowry line is well-documented. He’s an only child.” Manager D: “I heard a rumor... Mason recently started 'working' at a high school. Could she be a student there?” Manager F: “What?! You’re telling me the future mistress of the Lowry Family is a high schooler?” Manager A: “Wait—look at her wrist! Is that the bangle?”

The realization hit them like a physical blow. Jaws dropped as they stared at the strange, iridescent jewelry on Janet's arm.

Ignoring the buzzing hive of the boardroom, Janet blinked sleepily and pulled out her phone. As Mason’s deep, magnetic voice filled the room, the steady rhythm of his corporate directives acted like a lullaby, pulling her toward a nap.

After the meeting finally adjourned, Mason led Janet into the private lounge.

“The food’s cold,” Janet noted, yawning. Her voice was laid-back, her usual sharp edges softened by fatigue. “I’ll ask someone to heat it up.”

A sudden, sharp light flashed across Mason’s attractive phoenix eyes—a look that was both devilish and calculating. He watched her for a few seconds before speaking in a low, gravelly tone. “Janet, I’m deeply impressed by your lunch delivery today.”

The weight of his words instantly snapped her out of her daze. She offered a mischievous, sharp smile. “Of course. I didn’t realize how popular you were among the ladies until I walked through your front door.”

She hadn't intended to dwell on the receptionist’s comments, but the memory of the women clamoring for his attention had left a bitter taste she couldn't quite wash away.

Mason raised his eyebrows, a smug tilt to his lips. “Uh-huh. It seems you’re the only one who didn't know.”

He had been pursuing her for what felt like an eternity, yet she had never given him a clear indication of her heart. But this—this was different. He could smell the faint, unmistakable scent of jealousy in the air.

“Are you jealous?” Mason turned, his arms snaking around her waist as he pulled her flush against him. He whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “You’re clearly jealous, Janet. Just admit it.”

Jealous?

Janet’s breath hitched. She felt like she was failing to catch her air. The unease she’d felt at the reception desk—the irritation at the thought of other women trying to win him over—it finally had a name.

Panic surged through her. She turned and pushed against his chest with both hands. “Y-You should just go and eat. Let me think about it.”

It was a bizarre, terrifying sensation. For the first time, the girl who owned the world found herself wanting to claim a person entirely for herself. She put her hands over her heart, a look of profound confusion on her face. Is this what love feels like?

Before she could retreat further into her thoughts, Mason’s grip tightened. She fell right back into his arms.

“Mason!” she protested, her face flushing a deep crimson as she struggled to break free.

“You brought me lunch today,” Mason said, his voice dropping into a tone that was uncharacteristically pitiful. “Why can’t you just admit that you like me? How long do I have to wait to hear you say those words?”

The most powerful man in Asia, the successor to the Lowry legacy, was practically begging.

Janet felt a sharp conflict in her chest. “Mason,” she whispered.

His heart thumped audibly against her palms. “Yes?”

Janet cracked a tiny, naughty smile, looking directly into those charming eyes. “How long will you love me?”

Mason froze, his cold fingertips coming up to brush her cheek. He saw the flicker of fragility in her gaze—a rare crack in her armor—and his heart ached. Just as she tried to turn away to hide her face, he caught her chin, turning her back to him. He leaned down, pressing his lips gently against her eyes.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t show me that sad look. My heart can't take it.”