Heartstrings on Fire (Agnes and Jared)

Agnes offered a distant, half-hearted smile. "Well then, I must thank you for your concern, Mr. Peters."

She tried to sidestep Peters and make her escape.

But Peters suddenly grabbed her arm with a hint of suggestive mischief in his tone. "We've just about wrapped up dinner. How about we go somewhere else?"

Agnes recoiled, disgust barely concealed, as she wrenched her arm from his grip. "Mr. Peters, I must insist that you keep this professional."

Peters' patience seemed to get thinner with each rejection.

"Ms. Pritchard," he said pointedly, "playing hard to get loses its charm after a while."

Agnes clenched her fists. What on earth did this man take her for? She was seething but kept her composure for the sake of The Tim Group's reputation and didn't want to cause a scene.

"Mr. Peters," Agnes retorted, "I think you're misunderstanding the situation. I'm not the kind of person you seem to think I am."

Peters chuckled. "Come home with me tonight, and The Tim Group's ad campaign will be all yours. How's that for a deal?"

Agnes scoffed. "Business matters should be discussed with the station manager, not me."

With that, Agnes turned on her heel and walked away, eager to end the distasteful conversation. But Peters, now infuriated, seized her and pinned her against the wall.

"Drop the act, sweetheart. Your boss brought you here to be more than just company. Accompanying me should be your lucky break. The Tim Group's fifty million-dollar advertising spend could be in your hands. Do you think your boss would let you off the hook if you messed that up? You have no choice, better not to squirm too much-you might just slip away."

As Peters leaned in for a forceful kiss, Agnes swiftly brought up her knee.

A precise jab to his groin was followed by a grotesquely exaggerated howl. Peters crumpled to the ground, clutching himself in agony.

"You... you ungrateful bitch..." he gasped, pain stealing his words.

Agnes had half a mind to deliver a few more well-placed kicks, but seeing him curled up in pain, she decided against it.

She knew she'd probably made a mess of things and wondered how her station manager would handle it. But in that moment, she had acted without a second thought. Agnes turned and left without looking back.

Upon returning to the private room, the party was still in full swing, with the station manager looking worried.

Seeing Agnes, he didn't know whether to feel relieved or more concerned.

"Agnes, did you see Mr. Peters?" he inquired.

Agnes was blunt. "He's a jerk. I gave him what he deserved. You might want to call him an ambulance."

Despite her cool exterior, Agnes still felt a flicker of anger. The station manager had dealt with The Tim Group's marketing department for years; he had to know what sort of man Peters was. While his intentions might not have been for her to be a bargaining chip for fund, he had still used her. And that was something she didn't take lightly.

Upon hearing that Peters had been bested to the point of needing an ambulance, the station manager turned pale. He was about to go check when Peters himself barged in.

Propped against the door frame, he pointed a shaky finger at Agnes. "You... you'll pay for this. Get out here now!"

As Peters lunged forward, attempting to grab her, Agnes' reflexes proved far superior to his impaired state. With a swift and fluid motion, she executed a perfect over-the-shoulder throw, sending Peters crashing to the floor once more.