Chapter 5

You could insult his marksmanship, and you could insult his taste, but you could absolutely never insult the combat prowess of an American Soldier King. Especially in this particular regard.

“Who are you calling physically inadequate?” Michael took a step forward, planting both hands on the desk. He leaned in, exuding an overwhelmingly oppressive aura, and said through gritted teeth, “Miss Lucia, some things shouldn't be said lightly. If you're not convinced, believe it or not, I'll lock the door right now and show you what a real man is.”

Forced back by his sudden intense presence, Lucia shrank away slightly. Unbidden, those blush-inducing scenes on the massive hotel bed from last night flashed through her mind.

That wasn't the stamina of a normal human at all; he was practically a tireless beast.

Thinking of this, Lucia's cheeks grew involuntarily hot. But she couldn't lose face as a strong businesswoman. She stiffened her neck and sneered, “Stop bragging. This morning at the hotel, when I offered you a million, you sat there completely frozen. What, now that you're on my turf, your guts have grown?”

Michael rolled his eyes, choking on his words. Was he scared this morning? He was shocked by that streak of crimson on the bedsheets!

He couldn't be bothered to bicker with this woman on the subject. After all, it involved his grandfather's mission. If he got kicked out on day one, he'd be the laughingstock of his comrades back overseas for the rest of his life.

“Fine, let's keep things strictly professional.” Lucia smoothed her emotions and looked at him coldly. “Since you're so shamelessly dead-set on being a bodyguard, you have to show me what you've got. I don't feed idlers here. Come on, show me a special stunt.”

“A stunt?” Michael frowned.

“Smash a boulder on your chest, chop concrete bricks with your bare hands, or just do a backflip for me right here.” Lucia leaned back in her boss chair, her eyes brimming with teasing amusement. “If you don't even have the skills of a street performer, what gives you the right to say you can protect me?”

The corners of Michael's mouth twitched violently.

Was this woman really playing him for a circus monkey? An American Soldier King, the Grim Reaper of the dark world—his specialty was killing, playing with guns, and single-handedly tearing down entire mercenary groups!

“Miss Lucia, I'm a bodyguard, not a circus act,” Michael refused stiffly.

“Oh, guess you can't do it then.” Lucia sighed airily, making a show of reaching for the landline. “Can't even do a backflip. As a bodyguard, you just won't do.”

There it was again—that phrase, “won't do.”

The tyrannical aura belonging to a top-tier powerhouse within Michael was finally, thoroughly ignited.

Without wasting another word, he violently shot his hand out and grabbed the solid crystal glass ashtray from Lucia's desk—a decorative piece a full two fingers thick.

Before Lucia could even react to what he was doing, a sharp gleam flashed in Michael's eyes, and his right palm slammed down with a deceptively weightless strike.

Bang!

A dull, heavy thud exploded in the office.

There were no flying shards. Under Michael's palm, that incredibly tough crystal ashtray was instantly covered in a dense spiderweb of cracks. Then, with a crash, it completely collapsed into a pile of uniform glass fragments, stacked neatly on the desktop.

And Michael's palm didn't even have a single scratch.

Lucia froze on the spot, her beautiful eyes wide and perfectly round. She stared dead at the pile of glass debris, her breathing completely arrested.

This wasn't a prop; this was imported crystal she had picked out herself. Was this man's hand made of iron?

Michael slowly withdrew his hand, dusted off non-existent ash from his palm, and looked at her with a fake smile. “Miss Lucia, is this stunt qualified enough to be your bodyguard?”

Lucia swallowed hard, forcing herself to maintain her composure. She looked at Michael with a complex gaze, having to admit that this guy really did have some genuinely inhuman skills.

“Not bad,” Lucia evaluated rather stiffly.

Before Michael could let out a triumphant laugh, Lucia's slender finger pointed to the side as she coldly added, “But since you've dirtied my desk, go behind the door right now, grab a broom, and sweep up this broken glass for me. Don't leave a single shard behind.”

The smile on Michael's face instantly froze.

In that moment, he truly felt an urge to pin this ungrateful woman onto the desk and ruthlessly “teach her a lesson” so she'd know the meaning of dignity.

But looking at the pile of glass debris, and then thinking of his grandfather's instructions, Michael ultimately gritted his teeth and suppressed the urge.

“You're ruthless.”

Michael squeezed the words through his teeth. Face dark, he walked behind the door to grab the broom. Like a bullied little housewife, he obediently crouched by the desk and began cleaning up the debris.

Looking at his back, a fleeting, imperceptible gleam of triumph flashed in Lucia's eyes.

“Lucia! Lucia, are you alright?!”

The wooden door of the office was suddenly burst open by brute force. A pretty, clean-cut girl dressed in casual sportswear rushed in, drenched in sweat.

The moment Jessica entered, she frantically looked toward the desk. It wasn't until she saw Lucia sitting perfectly intact in her chair that she let out a long sigh of relief, patting her chest:

“You scared me to death, my big CEO! You really weren't violated by that wild man of unknown origins, were you?”

Jessica's gaze immediately swept across the lavishly decorated office, finally locking with pinpoint precision onto Michael, who was squatting by the desk leg with a broom in his hand.

“This...” Jessica stopped in her tracks, sizing up the rising Michael suspiciously. She tugged at the corner of Lucia's clothes and whispered, “Lucia, is this your newly hired janitor? He's quite handsome! With a face and body like that, it's a waste for him to be a janitor!”

The broom in Michael's hand almost flew directly into Jessica's face.

He was America's absolute top Soldier King, the terrifying “Grim Reaper” feared overseas. In less than half a day since entering this company, his status had been downgraded from husband to bodyguard, and now he was actually being treated like a janitor by some wet-behind-the-ears girl who just walked in?

“A janitor?” Michael gritted his teeth, leaning the broom against the corner. His face dark, he sneered, “Hey beautiful, does the janitor at your house dress like this? Open your glamorous big eyes and take a good look, I am—”

“He's here to apply as a bodyguard, and he smashed my ashtray while he was at it.” Seeing Michael so deflated, the stifling gloom that had built up in Lucia's chest mostly dissipated. The corners of her lips curled up involuntarily, and she couldn't help but laugh so radiantly that even the frost in the corners of her eyes melted.

She waved a hand at Michael, restoring her cold CEO tone. “Alright, the glass is cleaned up. You can wait outside. Stand by, and don't come in without my permission.”

Michael glared viciously at the two women, especially the gossip-faced Jessica. He let out a cold snort, shoved his hands into his pockets, and swaggered out of the CEO's office, slamming the door heavily behind him.

Watching the office door click shut, Jessica didn't even take a seat. She lunged straight in front of Lucia, her eyes shining. “Lucia, something's not right! Fess up, who exactly is this man? With those looks and that aura, you're telling me he's a janitor or a regular bodyguard? All the male models under my wing combined don't have half his masculine charm. How about you hand him over to me? I'll sign him to my modeling agency, he'd be an absolute smash hit!”

“You'd better give up on that idea right now.” Lucia helplessly rubbed her temples, sighing with a bit of a headache. “He is the guy... the one I told you about on the phone this morning.”

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