Lola lay on the bed, clutching the blanket tightly with both hands, showing none of the seductive posture one might anticipate. Instead, she looked more like a girl who didn't want to get out of bed on a lazy weekend morning. She seemed to be trembling slightly, her teeth almost biting her lipstick-coated lower lip to the point of drawing blood. The scene before him was nothing like he had imagined—this wasn't a seductive encounter, but more like a girl caught doing something wrong by an adult.
This was troublesome. He couldn't help but rub his brow with two fingers, leaning against the doorframe. After a moment, he asked in a low voice, "What's going on?"
His first thought was that this was Noah's retaliation. That boy had always harbored resentment toward him, and it was entirely possible that Noah had found out about his instructions to Lola and, in an act of revenge, sent her to his bed.
With that thought, he decided not to press further and turned to close the door, intending to speak with her after she got dressed. But before he could, Lola surprised him by lifting the blanket and stepping off the bed.
Her legs were slender, healthy, and full of strength, with smooth, graceful lines. The dim light from the floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted the fine, light brown hairs on her calves. Her expression was innocent and awkward, but her body was full and mature. She was like a red cherry ripened by spring, with sweet juice trapped just beneath the thin skin, ready to burst with a gentle bite.
A buzzing sound filled Villiers' mind, and for the first time, he found himself unable to think, frozen in place.
His daze gave Lola an opportunity. Barefoot, she walked up to him, mustered her courage, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
Despite being over fifty, he maintained an impressive physique—his chest was firm, and his stomach flat. Her eyes could only see his chest, and hugging his waist was like trying to embrace a towering, immovable mountain.
Seeing that he didn't move, she looked up at him cautiously, gently holding his wrist and placing his hand on the small of her back. In a soft voice, she whispered, "Don't reject me… I'm young, I promise I'll make you happy."
After saying that, Lola suddenly realized a glaring problem—while lying in bed, she had been so nervous that she had rolled around several times, causing her skirt to get stuck between her buttocks. If Mr. L saw this embarrassing sight, would he be disgusted with her and think she was extremely untidy?
This flaw tormented Lola to the point where she momentarily forgot to continue seducing him. Villiers, too, snapped out of his daze. He took a step back, looking at Lola's young, beautiful face, and sighed softly. Just as he was about to speak, a voice suddenly called out from behind him, "Sir, I'm here. Where's the woman who needs to be taken away?"
The voice belonged to Villiers' trusted assistant—Daniel. He was both Villiers' business assistant and personal aide. Daniel had graduated from the University of Chicago's Business School, founded by an oil tycoon, with a PhD in economics. Highly capable, he had played a crucial role in helping Villiers build his famous monopoly group. There were even rumors that if Noah continued to idle away his time, Daniel might become the next captain of the Villiers Group.
At this moment, the future captain of the company had barely finished speaking when Villiers harshly scolded him: "—Get out!"
With that, the oak door slammed shut with a loud "bang."
Daniel: "..."
The interruption brought Villiers back to full clarity.
He took off his long coat and draped it over Lola's shoulders, gesturing toward the bed with his chin. "Why don't you sit down first?"
Lola lowered her head and obediently sat on the edge of the bed. Although she appeared calm, her toes curled up in nervousness.
Villiers' gaze inadvertently fell on her slender, yet sensually shaped feet, and he felt a surge of irritation. Feeling slightly irritated, he took out a cigarette box and lit one. This was the first time he hadn't asked a woman's permission before smoking.
After taking a drag, the tension in his chest eased somewhat, and he asked, "Your name is Lola, right?" He had seen her name on the name tag of her server uniform.
Lola didn't hear a word he said. Her mind was completely blank, filled with the thought that she was done for.
Mr. L had pushed her away, and even sternly ordered her to sit down… He must be disgusted with her now, thinking she was a shameless, unscrupulous bitch. What would he do with her? Would he call the police and have her arrested for breaking into his room? Would she… end up in jail?
Cold sweat broke out all over Lola, and the more she thought about it, the more terrified and anxious she became. In front of the man she adored, the feisty, almost unruly side of her personality vanished completely, leaving her like a lost lamb. Her normally lively eyes were now clouded with despair.
Never had she felt as lost as she did now—not even when her mother left, because she believed she could take control of her own life; not even when Mrs. Harris threatened her, because she thought she could handle Mrs. Harris… But reality had been harsher than she imagined—her life was spiraling downward, out of control, to the point where she was now facing the possibility of jail time…
Lola was truly terrified.
She couldn't tell whether she was more afraid of going to jail or of the fact that the man she loved would be the one sending her there… perhaps both.
All she knew was that she was truly afraid… and deeply regretful.
By the time she finished, her cheeks and ears were flushed red, and she was sobbing so hard she could barely catch her breath.
At that moment, Mr. L suddenly opened the bedroom door and walked out. For a split second, she panicked so much that her scalp tightened. Was he going to call the police?
The next second, the door opened again. Mr. L returned empty-handed. He had only gone to put out his cigarette. Her face streaked with glistening tear tracks, she let out a shuddering sigh of relief.
He opened the bedroom window to let in some fresh air, then handed her a clean handkerchief. Squatting down in front of her, he looked into her eyes and asked slowly, "You say you like me. What do you mean by that?"
She wasn't sure if it was just her imagination, but his voice didn't sound as stern as before. It was deep and gentle, almost divine in its warmth. Staring at him in a daze, her heart skipped a beat, and she felt the familiar sting in her nose as tears threatened to fall again.
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