My Ex-Boyfriend is The Almighty Client

2

Warren Sinclair and I fell in love at first sight on campus. We dated for three of our four years in college, and our romance was the envy of everyone.

As graduation approached, we broke up, just like most college couples, pulled apart by different hometowns, dreams, and ambitions.

Of course, I was the one who initiated the breakup. The reasons were complicated—a mix of internal and external pressures that finally came to a head.

Due to family matters—my mother's poor health—I chose to find work in my home province after graduation so I could easily return to care for her whenever needed.

In three years, I went from a junior assistant who did little more than serve tea to a project director. Only I know the blood, sweat, and tears it took to get here.

The car sped along, pulling up to the entrance of a luxurious hotel twenty minutes later.

My boss led me into the lobby, and I spotted Warren Sinclair in a nearby crowd at a glance.

He stood tall and slender, with refined, handsome features. His profile was a dead ringer for an A-list celebrity, and he exuded an air of elegant modesty with every gesture. It was impossible to ignore him.

With his hands in his suit pockets and a faint smile playing on his lips, he walked straight toward my boss, not sparing me so much as a glance.

After the two exchanged brief pleasantries, my boss introduced me to Warren Sinclair.

"President Sinclair, this is my most capable director, Yana Lennox. She'll be the primary person in charge of this collaborative project."

I extended my hand with a professional smile. Warren Sinclair paused for a second before slowly taking his own hand out to meet mine.

"Long time no see!"

I could hear the sarcastic bite in his tone, but I put on a bright, bubbly act and cheerfully mentioned our shared past as classmates.

Warren Sinclair smiled, but his eyes were ice-cold. "I was under the impression Director Lennox had forgotten all about the past. But business is business, and our personal history is just that. The two shouldn't mix."

My boss choked and broke into a violent fit of coughing.

I moved to pat his back, but Warren Sinclair beat me to it.

When he thought no one was looking, my boss tugged on my sleeve. I got the message loud and clear: he wanted me to do whatever it took to butter up Warren Sinclair and secure the partnership.

"President Sinclair is absolutely right. We succeed on our own merits, and we would never mix that with personal history."

Hearing this, my boss nodded in agreement, apparently satisfied with my response.

"President Sinclair, you and Yana should exchange contact info. It'll make communication easier."

As if afraid I wouldn't get the hint, my boss turned his head and gave me a pointed wink.

'Honestly, I have absolutely no interest in Warren Sinclair anymore.'

He, on the other hand, kept trying to subtly pry into my past, asking my boss leading questions.

When the dinner ended, thanks to my boss's awkward maneuvering, Warren Sinclair and I ended up in the same car.

We were caught in the evening rush hour when the driver suddenly slammed on the brakes. I lost my balance and pitched headfirst into Warren Sinclair's lap.

He froze. I was mortified.