Cynthia looked at herself in the mirror of the restroom and couldn't help but smile. Tonight was a good night, and she could not even bring herself to be angry with Michael anymore.
After putting away the tools she used to adjust her makeup, she nodded at the result of her efforts, and looked at her bright red lips. Thinking about how she might get to share their taste with Daemon, she became impatient to go back.
She did one last check and left the restroom, but her joy was short-lived.
Someone was waiting for her, and she didn't hide her displeasure at his sight. She ignored him and tried to go around, but Michael would have none of that.
"Cynthia."
He sidestepped to get in front of her again.
This made her frown, and she was forced to stop:
"What do you want, Michael?"
Her sharp response made Michael angry, but he swallowed the emotion and showed a smile:
"I just wanted to see if you are alright. I saw you go to the restroom and got worried."
Cynthia didn't seem to appreciate his concern at all:
"Thank you for worrying about me, but I'm alright."
She tried to advance again, but Michael didn't look like he would get out of the way. When she looked at him, full of unhappiness, he asked:
"Why are you avoiding me? You are not even picking up my calls."
Cynthia exhaled to calm her rising agitation. She didn't want to present a subpart image of herself to Daemon later. Once she was sure to have contained any possible outburst, she replied:
"I thought you didn't notice that I was avoiding you, seeing how you keep pestering me. As for your calls, it was outside of work hours, so I saw no need to bother with them."
The bluntness that tore apart the possibility of misunderstanding made Michael struggle to keep his smile. Seeing him silent, Cynthia asked:
"Can you get out of the way now?"
Michael made one last effort to restrain his anger.
"Is it because of that man?"
Cynthia nodded with a natural expression:
"Yes. Even without him, you would have no chance, but with him, your chances went from zero to negative."
Michael's anger exploded:
"That disfigured man? In what way is he better than me? I don't even need to lift a single finger myself to destroy his life. I can destroy his life, his career, his family. Can someone like that protect you? What can he give you?"
The man's fierce look failed to intimidate Cynthia. Instead, his words stoked her anger, and she took a step forward:
"If you dare to touch him, I will never speak with you again."
Michael said with a mocking look:
"I'm your superior at work. How would you do that?"
Cynthia also refused to back down:
"I will resign from the company, and block any means you can contact me with. Even if my father forces me, I'd rather get myself hospitalized than attend a family gathering where you would be."
Michael's face paled. He didn't expect that the backlash of his words would be so heavy. He never imagined Cynthia would go that far for a man, even with all the decades they had known each other. A man he had never even seen her with.
The sight of him like that calmed Cynthia a little, and she regained her composure:
"Even if you try, it remains to be seen whether your father will take your side or if he will be convinced by mine."
Michael took a step back, his strength seeming to leave him. Cynthia didn't linger and went around him to go back to the hall.
The sound of her heels hitting the marble brought Michael back to reality, and he turned around fiercely:
"What can he give you that I can't? I'm the heir of Green industries, and I can give you anything. I have always been there for you, waiting for you. I have rejected every woman just to win your heart. What have I been doing wrong? Why can't you give me a chance?"
Cynthia paused in her steps, but before he could feel hopeful, she resumed her walk, and soon disappeared around the corner.
For a moment, the world seemed gray. All the efforts and feelings invested over the years wasted, with no value at all.
He remained alone in the empty corridor, feeling like the world was abandoning him.
He didn't have the energy to think that maybe some of the employees or guests had refrained from leaving the restroom, or stopped themselves from getting into the corridor to avoid embarrassing either side.
He didn't even bother to think about the guests at all, nor that he was representing his father.
Like a gambler broken by misfortune, he left in slow steps. He took the elevator and went to one of the rooms reserved for special circumstances that could arise with the guests.
He called the room service and said in a low voice devoid of energy:
"Get me something to drink."
"Yes, sir."
Before long there was a nock on the door. He thought about the healing beverage that would help him drown his sorrows, and overcame his lethargy to stand up.
When he opened the door, he saw his order in the hand of a woman. She was not old, barely into her twenties, and she was wearing the clothes of a staff member. Maybe a college student looking for money?
She was not as beautiful as Cynthia, but the smile on her youthful face had a different kind of appeal, despite seeking to be professional.
His eyes lingered on the tag that read "Camille" on the chest of the staff member. He looked at her from top to bottom, then from bottom to top. The not so strong light in the corridor made him feel as if the exposed fair legs were calling to him.
Her curves were not the biggest, but she was feminine enough, her hair tied in a bun to not get in the way according to the regulations gave her exposed face a refreshing beauty.
A different kind of light came into Michael's eyes. He took the bottle from the hands of the young woman, and without letting her speak, held her arm and pulled her inside the room.
The latter didn't even manage to voice her shock and her surprise, and only the sound of the door being locked was heard before the corridor regained its silence.