According to the usual cliché of romance novels, at this moment, there would definitely be a wicked soul trying to disturb the two people who are immersed in their love.
And sure enough, just as his masculine touch met her delicate softness, there came a ruckus from outside—
"Why won't you let me in?" A man's arrogant voice rang out, loud and ostentatious, like a bright and colorful oil painting. The sound was muffled by the door, making it hard to hear clearly.
"Sorry, the President is busy." Christopher's lukewarm voice could be heard, and it was obvious that he was trying to suppress his anger and keep his tone low.
"Busy? What could he be busy with? Is he doting on a young lady in there?" The man's laughter was wild and unrestrained, and what's more, he hit the nail right on the head.
Inside the room, Robert's expression darkened. Were there no restrictions on who could enter the President's Office? Did he even have to work there in the future?
