Page 13 of Worth Fighting For

I turn back to Mushu. “The other two interns—is one of them really tall and, uh, sort of…devastatingly handsome?”

Mushu’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Um. Well, the other two interns are women because of, you know, how we’re trying to hire more women and all that? But I guess you could describe Wanda as ‘devastatingly handsome.’ She does Pilates.”

“Oh no,” I say. Just then, the door opens again.

“Oh yes,” Mushu says.

There, standing in the doorway looking as dangerously gorgeous as before, is the stranger. And, to my horror, he’s carrying a tray of foamy lattes. Beneath his sharply cut suit, the muscles on his biceps ripple as he lowers the tray onto the table. “Freshly made, as you asked for,” he says. He gives a grim smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and deep-set dimples appear on his cheeks.

How dare you have dimples on top of everything?!I want to scream at him.

“But I already got lattes,” Gerald says in a small voice.

Mushu, her gaze still glued to the newcomer and her mouth half open, raises her hand and places it on Gerald’s face and pushes him to the side gently while saying, “Shh, Gerald.” Then she swallows and strides toward the man with her arms wide open. “Hello, you must be Shang, I’ve stalked your IG. So nice to finally meet you in person!” She envelops the man in a tight hug.

Oh god, this can’t really be happening.

“Um,” he says, patting Mushu’s back gingerly. “Thanks?”

With obvious reluctance, Mushu lets go of him and steps aside, still openly admiring him. Turning to me, she says, “Mu—I mean, Zhou, this is Shang.”

Oh god, of course he is. Of course this distractingly good-looking man that I’ve mistaken for the intern is Shang. I fight back the urge to bury my face in my hands and wail. But on the other hand, Shang looks as taken aback as I feel.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “you’re Zhou? Hua Zhou?”

I nod, mustering up a winning smile that feels more like a grimace as it sits, wobbling, on my face. “Yep, that’s me. Hua Zhou in the flesh.”

Shang does a double take, but before he can say another word, there is a knock on the door, and the receptionist pops his head in and says, “The rest of the Wutai Gold shareholders and their spouses are here.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Ibrush down my ridiculous suit, pretending not to feel Shang’s curious gaze boring a hole into my forehead. Within moments, Shang’s family spills into the conference room. I stand at the doorway, my mouth pressed into a thin smile, and remind myself to give each of them a firm handshake as they stream inside.

“Welcome,” I say, and I notice how Shang’s uncles and aunts and cousins barely spare me a glance. Even as they shake my hand, their eyes roam over my shoulder, probably searching the room for Zhou. I tell myself to stand taller.

Shang’s family is an intimidating bunch. There are three uncles, four aunties, and—apart from Shang—four cousins present, and most of them are dressed in a style I can only describe as “old money.” There is nothing overly ostentatious, and yet there is very clear luxury in their outfits, their hairstyles, and even the women’s makeup.

One of the uncles says, “And where is Mr. Hua?”

Here goes nothing. Praying that my voice comes out even, I say, “It’s Ms. Hua, actually.”

Conversations pause. Eyes turn to lock on me. I can practically hear breaths stopping mid-inhale. I wrestle my mouth into a smile. “Hello, welcome to Facai Capital. I’m so glad to finally meet you after all the correspondence that Shang and I have exchanged over email. I’m Hua Zhou, one of the partners of this firm.”

The silence stretches on for a painful few seconds before someone says, “We’re happy to be here.”

The one who spoke is a middle-aged woman with a kind smile. I find myself returning the smile before realizing it. “Thank you, Ms.…?”

“Ah, you can call me Auntie Jiayi. I am Shang’s mother, also a shareholder in the firm.”

“Auntie Jiayi,” I say obediently. “Very nice to meet you. Please, take a seat,” I add to everyone.

“Have a latte,” Shang says to his family. “I made them.”

He makes a point of not looking in my direction. It takes all my willpower not to dig a hole right then and there and disappear into it. How could I possibly have mistaken him for an intern? He couldn’t possibly be less intern-y.Focus. Let all that stuff about Shang go. You can’t afford to lose sight of the real purpose of this meeting.

Right.

I must remember that I’m in control here. These people are here because they’re hoping to sell their company to me.

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