Oops I Banged the CEO novel Chapter 56

The waiter, ever attentive, brought over a chair and placed it behind Marico.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Hamilton.”

With practiced grace, Marico sat down, his cool, piercing gaze settling on Yvonne. “You did a fine job slicing the steak,” he remarked.

Yvonne’s lashes fluttered in surprise.

She forced herself to glance at the man sitting just ahead and to her right. His expression was unreadable, his features sharp and reserved. Her heart was pounding so loudly she feared everyone could hear it.

“Um…” Yvonne’s voice was muffled with nerves.

“What do you prefer to eat, Mr. Hamilton?” Martin asked politely.

“I think the one already carved looks just right,” Marico replied, his eyes never leaving Yvonne’s anxious face, his gaze growing even darker.

Yvonne could feel it—he’d been staring at her like a wolf eyeing prey since the moment he walked in.

“I haven’t started eating yet. If you don’t mind, Mr. Hamilton, please go ahead.”

She carefully slid the steaming, neatly sliced steak toward Marico.

“Then please, Mr. Hamilton, help yourself. I’ll carve my own and bring it over,” Martin said, placing a fresh fork beside Marico’s plate before turning to Yvonne.

“Has Ms. Scott broken her hand and can’t manage her own steak? I wouldn’t want to steal someone’s prized dish,” Marico said coolly, his deep, resonant voice carrying a natural authority that made it clear he was used to being the one in charge.

Yvonne shook her head earnestly. “No, not at all.”

“Ms. Scott’s hands are just fine,” Martin explained quickly. “I just saw the ladies chatting and thought I’d help out by slicing it first.”

“Mr. Powell, you’re quite the gentleman,” Marico replied, his tone icy. “With that kind of attention to detail, you might consider a job here. You’d fit right in.”

The air at the table instantly turned frigid.

Even Martin, usually the very soul of warmth and composure, felt the sting of Marico’s pointed words.

“I’ll just order a few more things,” Yvonne said, her smile brittle.

Martin gave her a fleeting look, noting the effort she was making to distract herself. A subtle emotion flickered in his eyes.

He said nothing more, merely picked up his own plate and, with calm dignity, began slicing and tasting his dinner.

Marico took a bite, then flagged down the waiter. “Bring me a medium-rare one. This one’s gone cold and lost its flavor.”

He set down his fork, picked up his napkin, and dabbed at his lips.

He didn’t raise his voice or show the slightest hint of anger, yet his presence alone was so commanding that no one dared breathe too loudly.

Now it wasn’t just Yvonne who was anxious—even Grace and the usually chatty Nydia were silent.

Mr. Hamilton hadn’t come for the food. It felt more like he’d come to draw blood.