Chapter 31
The air outside the private room in the smoking area felt like it had lost all its coolness.
Camila stood with her back to the noisy room, a freshly lit cigarette between her fingers. She took several deep drags, finally calming her nerves.
She knew very well that if it weren't for Clifford's influence, those people wouldn't even glance at her, the struggling owner of a small entertainment company.
But she couldn't afford to show any emotion; she had to hold her wine glass and accept all the perfunctory pleasantries.
Camila squinted, thinking of Laura's face. It had been over a thousand days since Laura left her.
Finally, the cigarette burned down to the end, and she flinched from the heat, taking a deep breath before turning around.
A few steps away, Clifford was leaning against the railing.
He must have been standing there for a while, his gaze heavy and unreadable as it fell on her.
Camila kept her eyes straight ahead, intending to walk past him, but as she did, her wrist was suddenly grabbed with force.
"Are you mad?"
Clifford's tone wasn't accusatory; it sounded genuinely concerned.
Camila tried to pull her wrist free but failed. She relaxed her grip and shrugged, "No."
"No?" Clifford chuckled softly, his gaze sweeping towards the direction of the private room behind her. "Then why did you spill the entire glass of red wine on the carpet? Still saying you're not mad?"
She found it laughable. He had provoked her first, and now he was questioning her. "If you didn't want to drink, me pouring it out shouldn't matter, right?"
Clifford looked at her coldly.
He knew this woman too well; she would rather clash head-on than admit fault, even when a simple apology could resolve the issue.
Camila didn't want to argue anymore. She was about to forcefully break free when Clifford's arm suddenly tightened, pulling her into his embrace.
In a dizzying moment, her back hit the cold railing, and the next second, his tobacco-scented lips pressed down on hers.
Realizing what Clifford intended, she struggled desperately to push him away, but he didn't budge. Instead, he took advantage of the situation, biting her tongue and deepening the kiss.
Unable to resist, Camila stopped struggling. She closed her eyes, letting his aggressive kiss take over her breath until both of them were nearly out of air. Clifford finally pulled back slightly.
"Learned your lesson?" His voice was hoarse, his warm breath brushing her nose.
His arm still firmly encircled her waist, while his other hand caressed the back of her neck, his fingers gently stroking.
Camila opened her eyes, a nonchalant smile playing on her lips. "Since you're planning to help me out, letting you kiss me isn't a big deal. It's not the first time anyway."
Her casual tone reignited Clifford's anger, but the location wasn't right for a confrontation. Frustrated, he bit down on her collarbone.
"One day, I'll conquer you."
Camila pulled out a small concealer stick from her bag, using her phone screen as a mirror.
She expertly covered the quickly reddening bite mark, her tone indifferent. "Alright, I'll be waiting."
—
By the time the dinner ended, it was completely dark outside.
Clifford's car smoothly entered the underground garage, stopping at Camila's apartment's designated spot.
The garage was quiet, with only the harsh white light from the overhead lamps illuminating the silent air between them.
Clifford glanced at Camila, not immediately letting her out of the car. They remained in a standoff, waiting for the other to speak.
But Camila was patient. She unbuckled her seatbelt and adjusted her dress, showing no intention of speaking.
Finally, Clifford couldn't hold back. His Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke, "Not inviting me up?"
Camila looked at him like he was an idiot, immediately retorting, "Why would I let you into my home?"
Clifford was momentarily stunned, his expression darkening.
"Who knows if reporters might be lurking around my place. It's too dangerous for you to come up now."
She got out of the car, waving her hand without looking back, her voice light, "Thanks for today. See you next time."
The car door clicked shut, cutting off Clifford's nearly overflowing anger.
He stared at the disappearing figure at the elevator, his grip on the steering wheel so tight that his veins bulged.
He almost blurted out, "There won't be a next time." But he swallowed the words, finally squeezing out through gritted teeth, "Fine, see you next time."
Camila returned home, kicked off her high heels, and collapsed onto the couch.
After a few minutes, she got up and undressed, ready to take a shower.
Suddenly, her phone lit up with a message from an unknown number.
[I've made up my mind. Can I come over now?]
She thought for a moment, recalling the young man she had given a note to, Willie.
Last time at the bar entrance, she had impulsively handed him a note with her phone number. With all the company issues, she had forgotten about it.
Barefoot, she walked to the couch and pressed the callback button. The call connected quickly.
"I am..."
"I know who you are." Camila sat naked on the couch. "I only gave you a note, but unfortunately, we lack a bit of fate."
She sighed, remembering Willie's timid appearance, feeling a bit reluctant.
"My company has some problems, so I probably can't afford to support you. How about I introduce you to another rich lady?"
The last sentence was a lie; she had no interest in doing that.
The other end of the line was silent for a moment before the voice spoke again, "I don't need your money. Just a place to stay and a chance to continue my studies."
"Studies?"
Camila realized the boy was a student at Radiant University, a top-tier school.
She considered for three seconds, "I'll send you the address. Come over directly."
After hanging up, she went to the bathroom. When she came out wrapped in a towel, the doorbell rang.
Opening the door, the boy standing outside was indeed Willie.
He wore a simple white shirt and jeans, carrying a slightly worn backpack.
His face looked particularly fair and delicate under the hallway light, his eyes showing a mix of nervousness and a hint of anticipation.
Camila took it all in, her gaze shifting to Willie's face.
She had to admit, his clean yet stubborn eyes did bear some resemblance to that person from when they were eighteen or nineteen.
She stepped aside, "Come in."
Willie awkwardly thanked her, his fingers trembling as he changed his shoes.
In the living room, he stood at the entrance, looking around nervously, his cheeks slightly red as he glanced at Camila, hesitating before saying, "I... I should take a shower?"