That Day When I Got Married to My Boss at the Blind Date

Juliette’s expression shifted to one of concern upon noticing Josie’s lackluster complexion, prompting her to inquire, “Everything all right with you?”

“I’m fine,” she managed to respond.

Thalia, adept at navigating the nuances of her high-level position, subtly sensed the tension, offering guidance with, “Miss, please allow me to show you to the restroom this way.”

For Josie, this felt like a timely rescue.

Her feelings toward Juliette were complicated, a mix of transparency and concealed emotions. There was nothing ostensibly secretive about their relationship, yet the undercurrents were complex.

Moreover, Josie couldn’t ignore the apparent affection Juliette harbored for Dexter, making her feel somewhat intrusive as Dexter’s ex-wife.

Once inside the solitude of the restroom, Josie hastily splashed her face with water, seeking clarity among the whirlwind of thoughts.

Thalia, lingering nearby, hesitated before confirming, “Ms. Warren, right? I hope I’m not mistaken.”

Josie offered a smile, albeit strained, and complimented, “Indeed, you’re quite astute. Dexter sure has an eye for people.”

Thalia’s face fell into an expression of apology. “Actually, I was chosen by Mr. Peeple and haven’t had the opportunity to speak with Mr. Russell.”

“How did you recognize me then?” Josie inquired.

“Your story is legendary within Russell Group, akin to folklore. Everyone’s familiar with it. It’s quite a surprise to see you here, just like the stories predicted-Mr. Russell’s great search ending in success!”

The hyperbole seemed a bit much to Josie.

Leaning against the sink, she couldn’t help but probe, “What do people usually say about me?”

Silence fell as Thalia hesitated to speak.

“Go on, I won’t be upset,” Josie encouraged.

“Well, the talk wasn’t always kind… You were described as cunning, a disaster, and someone who could effortlessly ensnare Mr. Russell,” Thalia admitted reluctantly.

Such descriptions weren’t flattering, prompting Josie to ask, “Isn’t there anything positive?”

After a moment’s thought, Thalia shared, “You were often lauded as a formidable woman, credited with securing Mr. Russell’s chairman position through your sheer effort. Without you, the Russell legacy might have been compromised.”

This acknowledgment brought a sense of validation to Josie, who nodded in agreement. “There’s some truth to that, after all.”

Thalia, eyes sparkling with curiosity, asked, “Why aren’t you going in? Mr. Russell would definitely be thrilled to see you!”

Just then, Dexter’s message popped up: Why aren’t you replying?

Josie’s nonverbal reaction spoke volumes before she inquired, “Where’s Grape?”

“Could that troublesome little one really be…” Thalia’s voice carried a tone of muted astonishment.

Grapes had dozed off in a space right outside Dexter’s office. As she opened the door, Thalia mentioned, “She’s all tuckered out from playing. With Mr. Russell still tied up with work, we’ve arranged for her to rest here. The window’s designed to be see-through from his side, allowing Mr. Russell a glance without effort.”

Josie entered, finding Grape deep in slumber on a small bed, a milk bottle firmly in her grip.

With a warm smile, she approached the window, drawing the blinds to obscure the view from Dexter’s office, while her own view remained unobstructed.

The office’s decor was unchanged, its stark black and white theme persisting without a hint of warmth.

At that moment, Dexter was situated at his desk near the expansive window, freshly out of a meeting. His suit jacket lay discarded, his shirt sleeves rolled up to unveil the sleek contours of his forearms as he served coffee to Juliette, who sat relaxed. His expression remained impassive, the epitome of cool composure.

Yet, through Josie’s eyes, Dexter’s ease around Juliette suggested he viewed him as a confidante.

Juliette, cupping her face in her hands, whispered something that elicited a rare chuckle from Dexter. He responded with a gentle nod, the two of them lost in casual banter as dinner was served.