Devilish secretary - Chapter 275

Chapter 275: Chapter 275 Perfect upgrade
And Lilith…?

Lilith stood frozen, her sunglasses sliding down just enough to reveal the fire behind them.

Her eyes turned dark, quietly furious.

The kind of dark that made people regret being born pretty.

Gray, meanwhile, looked down at Clara’s hand. He didn’t move. His face unreadable.

But Lilith knew him.

And he knew she was watching.

Gray looked down at the delicate hand on his chest.

And without saying a word, he took a slow, precise step to the side—just far enough that Clara’s hand slipped off like it never belonged there in the first place.

The shift was smooth.

Polite.

Cold.

Clara blinked, her smile flickering for a split second.

But she recovered fast.

Her expression changed—not all at once, but in small, sour edges that curled around her lips. She turned slightly, brushing her hair back as if to pretend nothing happened. But Lilith saw it. That quiet bitterness in her eyes. That flash of embarrassment she tried to swallow.

And then…Clara started talking.

Straight to Gray.

Completely ignoring Lilith, as if she wasn’t even there.

“Oh, this hospital is such a maze,” she said sweetly, brushing imaginary dust from her shoulder. “I get lost every time I come here. Are you visiting someone too?”

Her eyes sparkled, but her voice tried too hard. She spoke lightly, like she belonged in his world, like this was just a casual meet-cute in an elevator.

But Lilith wasn’t listening to her words.

She was watching Clara’s eyes, those greedy little glances flicking toward Gray’s wrist.

Right where his watch sat.

Limited edition. Quietly expensive.

Lilith’s lips curled slightly.

There it is.

Clara’s smile turned hungrier.

She had noticed the brand. Of course she had.

Even her sugar daddy couldn’t afford that model—not with his struggling investment company and pending divorce.

Clara probably saw Gray as a perfect upgrade.

A man who looked like old money and moved like he didn’t need anyone’s approval.

Still pretending Lilith didn’t exist, Clara tilted her head just slightly and said in a softer voice, “I’m Clara, by the way. You look kind of familiar… Are you in media?”

Lilith’s heel tapped once on the elevator floor.

Lilith didn’t say a word.

She didn’t need to.

She stood still in her corner of the elevator, arms loosely folded, eyes fixed on Gray with that half-lazy, half-dangerous smirk—one that whispered louder than any threat.

Go on. Say one more word to her. I dare you.

And Gray… felt it.

Felt the heat of her gaze on his skin like fire wrapped in velvet. His body stiffened for just a second, his jaw tightening—not from Clara’s voice, but from the storm brewing inside the quiet woman beside him.

So he ignored Clara.

Again.

Turned his head slightly away, like she didn’t exist.

And Clara noticed.

Panic fluttered behind her lashes but she covered it well.

Too well.

Her smile sharpened. Got softer. Her hand moved like it didn’t mean to. And then—

She tripped. Again.

“Oh—!”

Her body tilted forward, almost too perfectly timed, right into Gray’s arm.

Her hands landed against his chest again—this time harder. And her dress, thin and loose at the top, slipped down just enough to reveal skin no stranger should be showing in a hospital elevator.

Her voice came out breathy. Her posture desperate.

He pushed her away disgusted.

Lilith didn’t rush. She didn’t raise her voice or even lift her chin.

She simply stepped forward, sliding between Gray and the stumbling mess of exposed silk and perfume. Her hand—elegant, precise—rested lightly on his chest, right where Clara’s fingers had been moments ago. A small gesture. Almost romantic. Almost playful. But the way she touched him spoke louder than any push or slap. It was a quiet possession. A claim. Like she was reminding everyone who the man in the suit belonged to.

Gray’s heartbeat slowed beneath her fingers. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just watched her, eyes low, expression unreadable but something in him had already melted under her touch.

And Lilith tilted her head with a soft, slow smile curling on her lips.

Then she turned to Clara—still sweet, still gentle. Her voice came out like sugar dipped in poison.

“You want something from my hubby?”

The words floated into the space like perfume—pleasant at first… until they burned.

Lilith’s tone was soft. Almost too soft. The kind of softness that made your spine tighten because you knew something sharper was hiding underneath. She never acted sweet. Never. And the fact that she was now, meant only one thing:

Someone was about to cry.

Clara blinked. Her smile slipped. Her lips parted, but no words came. For a second, the elevator seemed smaller. Warmer. Colder. Everything at once.

And then—

Ding.

Their floor arrived.

The silver doors slid open, breaking the tension like glass. Clara quickly stepped out, her heels clicking too fast, too loud. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look back.

Her perfect hair bounced as she disappeared into the hallwayleaving behind her fake innocence and her half-open dress.

Lilith stepped out slowly, her heels graceful and unbothered, as if she hadn’t just shattered another woman’s pride in under a minute.

Gray followed behind her, silent, still recovering.

He didn’t dare smile.

Because even he knew…

Lilith wasn’t done yet.

As soon they reached a quiet corner near the private ward entrance, Lilith stopped walking. Her heels stilled with a soft click, and her hand came up to press lightly against Gray’s chest, stopping him too.

He raised a brow, but said nothing.

Lilith didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. Her anger didn’t come in waves—it came like silk. Cold, smooth, and impossible to ignore.

She leaned in slightly, close enough that only he could hear her.

“Heh… Human doll,” she whispered, her voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness, “you really didn’t say a word when some woman tried to seduce you right in front of me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, lips pressed into a soft pout but her eyes were not playful. They were sharp. Quietly burning. The kind of stare that didn’t scream jealousy—it screamed I dare you.

Gray blinked, as if truly wounded.

And then, as if he was the victim here, he replied with a frown, voice low and dramatic:

“Isn’t that the same woman whose body you were staring at earlier?”

His tone was hushed, almost offended, like he had been betrayed in the deepest way possible. His eyes narrowed with such exaggerated pain it made Lilith blink.

For a moment, she almost forgot she was mad.

Then she scoffed.

“Oh, so we’re playing that game now?” she said, stepping closer, her hand now gripping his tie—not gently. She pulled it just slightly, bringing his face nearer. “I looked at her profile, not her cleavage. I wasn’t busy breathing in her perfume or pretending not to see her dress slip off.”

Gray looked at her like she’d just kicked a puppy. His eyes wide. Accusing.

“I didn’t pretend. I was frozen. In shock,” he argued, pointing at his own chest like it had been attacked. “You think I enjoyed being flashed by a desperate D-list actress in a hospital elevator? I’m traumatized.”

Lilith’s lips twitched.

Was he seriously playing the wounded card right now?

But the way he pouted—the way his hair had fallen slightly over his eyes, and how his shirt collar was still crooked from earlier…it was ridiculous.