Roman's intense gaze locked with mine, his eyes reflecting a mix of disbelief and displeasure as he saw me for the second time that day. My palms grew sweaty, and my heart raced as memories of the disastrous workshop flooded my mind. Who would willingly engage with someone who had humiliated them so profoundly?
The anger between us was palpable, and I struggled to understand when it all began or how it had escalated to this extent. He was turning me into someone unrecognizable, igniting a baseless hatred within me.
"Have a seat," he commanded, motioning to the cushion opposite him, already claiming the luxurious seat for himself.
I couldn't bring myself to comply. I pivoted on my heel and uttered, "Excuse me, there's been a mistake," desperate to escape and never return. No amount of money was worth enduring his degrading treatment.
