I Catfished a Billionaire Using My Bully’s Photo Chapter 08

I Catfished a Billionaire Using My Bully’s Photo Chapter 08

Before I knew it, the workday was over.

I’d gotten my skirt dirty during lunch, so I ran home first to change.

By the time I showed up at the KTV, they’d already been singing for over an hour.

I pushed open the door.

The dim, shifting lights made me squint — and when my eyes adjusted, the first thing I saw was Ethan.

Still in that black shirt.

The lights swept across his face — sharp, gorgeous.

He was holding a glass of wine, barely touched, his long fingers idly turning it by the rim.

The supervisor had clearly said he wasn’t coming.

I instinctively stepped backward — but the supervisor spotted me.

“Evelyn! Finally! Come in, come in — we’ve been waiting for you.”

A few other colleagues turned to look.

I had nowhere to run.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself forward.

“S-sorry. I’m here.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan tilt his head, his gaze drifting

toward me.

I didn’t dare look at him.

I tried to find the most remote corner seat possible, but the supervisor shoved me from behind.

“Sit, sit. You’re late — this is the only spot left.”

I couldn’t get a single word out.

Because the spot he’d pointed to was right next to Ethan.

Thankfully, Ethan was murmuring something to the person on his other side and didn’t seem to notice me.

I forced down the wave of discomfort and sat stiffly.

The moment I settled, he shifted.

The fabric of his dark dress pants brushed lightly against my calf.

I froze and immediately yanked my leg back, putting distance between us.

Less than thirty seconds later, it happened again.

He shifted again.

The cool fabric slipped against my skin, sending a strange tingle up my leg.

I was fuming.

I shot him a glare — but his head was still turned, talking to someone else, his expression cool and focused.

He didn’t even glance my way.

Fine.

Maybe he really wasn’t doing it on purpose.

I ducked my head, pressed my knees together tight, and prayed silently for this whole thing to be over.

Then his knee pressed against mine.

Not hard.

Not soft.

The crease of his trousers brushed my skirt.

Through two layers of fabric, the heat of his leg was almost scalding.

I had nowhere left to move.

Still, he didn’t look at me.

He lifted his glass, took a sip, and his arm brushed my shoulder again.

I shot to my feet.

“I-I’m going to the bathroom. You guys go ahead.”