Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 290

“Aaah!” Quentin James let out a miserable shriek as Selene jerked her hand free from his grip and stepped back.

“Selene, it’s me!” Quentin protested, clutching his now-swollen cheek.

The revulsion in Selene’s gaze faded, replaced by a chilly composure. “Oh, Professor James. I thought I was being assaulted by some creep.”

Quentin wasn’t alone; a foreigner stood at his side. The man blinked in surprise when he got a good look at Selene.

Quentin rubbed his stinging face. “Come on, this is The Enclave. There aren’t any creeps in a place like this. I just wanted to ask—what brings you here?”

Selene volleyed the question right back. “What about you, Professor? Why are you here?”

Quentin glanced at his companion, then forced a smile. “I’m here for a business meeting.”

The foreigner simply nodded politely at Selene. She turned back to Quentin with a curt, “Well, I’ll be going then.”

She pivoted to leave, but Quentin quickly moved to block her path.

“Selene, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Thompson Victory Technologies. Ever since you joined them, suddenly two other companies have shown interest in buying them out. What’s going on?”

Selene cocked an eyebrow. “And what exactly does Thompson Victory Technologies have to do with you?”

Quentin’s throat tightened in frustration. “OmniCore Technologies is counting on you to help broker their acquisition! Don’t you want to join OmniCore and move up as an executive at a multinational?”

Selene’s lips curled into a cool smile. “This is business, Professor. Highest bidder wins. If two more companies want Thompson Victory Technologies, well, if OmniCore is serious, they’ll have to put up an offer the board can’t refuse.”

Quentin’s temper flared. “That’s not playing fair!”

Selene batted her lashes, face innocent and unadorned, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

“I’ll be honest—I just met with Gwyneth, CEO of The Lockridge Group. She’s interested in acquiring Thompson Victory Technologies, too.”

Quentin was so stunned he stammered, “Even The Lockridge Group…?”

“If I went with the lowest offer—OmniCore’s—I’d be making enemies of three industry giants. Are you planning to take that heat for me, Professor James?”

Quentin instinctively stepped back. “This has nothing to do with me! Man, if I’d known, I never would have vouched for OmniCore…”

A faint, silent smile played on Selene’s lips. Ever since she’d taken charge of the acquisition, OmniCore’s edge in the bidding war had evaporated; no doubt some executive had already chewed Quentin out for it.

Gwyneth brandished her iPad like a weapon, gripping it by the edge as if it were a handle. She brought it down on Quentin’s head with a resounding thud.

“You’ve got a death wish, harassing my people? Fine, I’ll send you straight to your maker!”

The foreigner who’d come with Quentin made a move to intervene, but Gwyneth’s fierce aura pinned him in place. He froze, arms up defensively, not daring to step forward.

Quentin’s pleas for mercy quickly faded into incoherent howls. He lay curled on the floor, arms shielding his head, while Gwyneth mercilessly kicked at his most vulnerable spots.

He doubled up like a boiled shrimp, Gwyneth’s boots finding every tender gap. Selene watched the whole spectacle in stunned silence.

Suddenly, Gwyneth noticed the foreigner raising his phone, presumably to record. She strode over and slapped her business card over his screen.

“Trust me, don’t get yourself involved in things you’ll regret.”

The man, in perfect, slightly-accented English, stammered, “You’re… Ms. Lockridge?”

Quentin, hearing the name of his assailant, went limp with shock. Whatever words he’d been preparing to spit back died in his throat; he stayed sprawled on the floor, hands over his head, playing dead.

Gwyneth returned to Selene’s side, handed her iPad off to a hulking bodyguard, and accepted a steaming towel from him to wipe her hands clean.