?Chapter 922:


    “No,” Ellis said tly, his tone clipped and distant.


    Then, he walked off without a second nce.


    Charlette stood there, stunned. Not because he was rude, but because he didn’t even hesitate. That was a first. Most men at least tried to flirt back. This one barely looked at her.


    Intrigued, not insulted, Charlette followed him into the bar.


    The moment she crossed the threshold, every head turned her way. Sliding in like she owned the ce, Charlette made a beeline for the counter. “Mojito, thanks.”


    The bartender, clearly caught off guard by such a stunner, stood frozen for a second too long. A sharp tap of her fingers on the counter snapped him back to the moment.


    While waiting, Charlette let her gaze sweepzily across the room—and there was Ellis again. The same handsome man from earlier, now tucked into a shadowy corner.


    Just as the drink reached her hand, a new figure appeared beside her. This one wore a id shirt and thick ck-framed sses. He clutched a bottle of beer like it was a lifeline and couldn’t quite manage to meet her eyes. “Uh… hey…” he stammered, cheeks already turning pink. “Can I maybe buy you a drink?”


    Every inch of him screamed “first-time flirtation,” and for a moment, Charlette was ready to brush him off. But then she noticed something—the handsome man’s table were watching. That alone made her pause. She swallowed her refusal and smiled. “Sure.”


    His eyes lit up like he had just won the lottery, and he motioned for her to follow him across the room.


    At the table, only two seats were free—one on his side, the other beside Ellis.


    Charlette didn’t hesitate. She slid into the spot next to Ellis like she had always belonged there. Leaning in, her words came out in a low, teasing tone. “Funny running into you twice in one night.”


    A faint trace of her perfume drifted toward Ellis. He stiffened but kept his eyes forward.


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    Unfazed, Charlette turned her attention back to the group and slipped seamlessly into their conversation,ughing and sipping her drink like she had known them for years.


    None of these men had expected someone like Charlette to interrupt their quiet night. Within minutes, they were all talking over each other—sharing their research, their daily gripes, and even the asional bad joke.


    Casually, Charlette lifted her ss and smiled. “You’ve all been charming, but I still don’t know anyone’s name.”


    The man in id straightened in his chair. “Miss Patel, I’m Henrik Cortez,” he said, almost proudly.


    The others chimed in with their names, one after the other. Everyone except Ellis.


    Sensing the silence, Henrik stepped in again. “The one next to you is Ellis Harper. He’s our sharpest mind here. Bit on the quiet side, but don’t let that throw you.”


    Charlette’s smile deepened as her gaze slid over to him. “Ellis…”


    Charlette’s voice held the same charm as her presence—silky, smooth, impossible to ignore. The way she said Ellis’s name gave it weight, drawing subtle attention to every syble, as if she were savoring it.


    Ellis, however, maintained his poker face. No shift in his gaze. No reaction whatsoever.


    Rather than taking offense, Charlette seemed even more amused. Men like Ellis—quiet, restrained, disciplined—were the kind who didn’t give anything away easily. That only made the chase more interesting.


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