A model with a heart of money and an executive whose only matters regard his business. In light of scandals and a dazed stare among stars, can they make it to victory, and regain confidence in what was lost? Or will it fall apart at the hems of her...
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๑ IWILL SURVIVE.
taedu's top girl ✧ chapter 05
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As his fingers hover over my hand, a pair of tweezers holding cotton against my cuts, I drive my eyes around his office. It's bland, a familiar dark gray and white. It's every CEO's office: average. There's no decoration found anywhere, not even on his desk or walls. No paintings, no plants. Just a computer, four stacks of paper, and oddly, a silver butterfly.
He notices my wandering eyes, pressing the cotton harder on my cut. I hiss, turning back to face him. He's already staring, unamused by my curiosity. However, as he softly exhales, his head drops. "Shouldn't you be minding your own business? I'm offering my help, and you're being nosy."
"Humans are made with eyes, anyway. Why can't we use them?" The validity of my argument silences him, so I continue speaking. "You don't seem very stylish. Aren't you an executive? Shouldn't you impress your colleagues and business partners with a luxurious sight?"
"Too trivial. I don't believe in that," CEO Kang replies, placing a nude wrap around my palm. He doesn't even spare me a glance the moment I raise an eyebrow, continuing his speech. "I hate people who are only focused on material things–if that is any offense to you–and all they care about is certain things. I hate anyone who cares that much about the price of things or how much detail is put into one thing."
"You must hate a lot of people, then," I huff, retracting my hand to my lap the moment he closes the first-aid kit. "How would you know if I take offense to that statement, anyway?"
"Look at yourself," What a degrading comment. He's lucky I need money. He stands up, filing through folders on his desk until he finds a sleek, leather cover. CEO Kang places it in front of me, a black pen on my side. "You're wearing a Dior, black pleated dress atop a dark blue button-up, where in the case of grease spillage, it won't show. You're wearing long socks that are from a fine-detailed brand–probably an expensive one considering the quality–and your shoes are Dior black pumps, the heel thick enough to defy food getting stuck on your shoe and the counter engraved in its initials so that people can know that you're something. Ms. Sora, please correct me if I've gotten it all wrong, but I am a fashion executive for a reason."
