Chapter 167 Repeating Old Tricks
Where was Quinley right now?
Zachary would never guess.
She knew he'd figure out her plans, so instead of going home after work, she headed to her usual spa.
She kept clothes stored there. Using a friend's membership under Quinley's name, she got the full treatment.
She saw every call from Zachary. She just didn't answer.
If she was going to feed a dog tonight, she needed to be well-rested and prepared.
Eight p.m.
Detective Wilson texted.
[Where should I bring her?]
Quinley: [Wait for my signal.]
She lay on the spa bed, soaking up the long-overdue pampering. Her whole body relaxed.
Just before ten, Jeremy's secretary called.
"Ms. Promise, Mr. Davis's dinner meeting is wrapping up. Where should we meet?"
"I'll send you the address."
Quinley sat up from the treatment bed.
She changed into a fresh outfit and did her makeup with careful precision before heading out.
Zachary never would've guessed that Quinley had arranged to meet Jeremy at a tiny hole-in-the-wall BBQ joint.
The place was tucked away in some obscure location. Most people would never find it.
Lucas had been staking out the hotel. When the dinner meeting ended, Jeremy and his secretary got in the car.
The car took him home.
Seeing this, Lucas stopped tailing him and left.
But Jeremy changed clothes and headed to the BBQ place Quinley had mentioned.
"Ms. Promise, never would've pegged a gorgeous woman like you for loving dives like this."
He was all smiles, reeking of alcohol as he sat down across from her.
Quinley wore a red slip dress. She'd put on weight, sure, but her appeal was as strong as ever.
"Mr. Davis, I hope you don't mind. I took the liberty of assuming that after all those fancy dinners and drinks tonight, you'd want something different. So I picked this place."
Quinley put on a shy expression. Jeremy's eyes stayed glued to her, gleaming with greed.
"Didn't realize you knew me so well."
As he spoke, his hand slid onto hers.
Quinley's stomach turned, but her face stayed perfectly composed.
"You're so easygoing and refined. Working with you is an honor."
The empty flattery rolled off her tongue effortlessly.
Jeremy ate it up, grinning from ear to ear. "Ms. Promise, you really know how to sweet talk. Since we get along so well, let's have a drink together."
Jeremy suggested drinking first.
His suggestion played right into Quinley's hands.
But she put on a demure act, lowering her voice. "I'm really a lightweight though. Just a little bit and I get tipsy."
At that, the predatory gleam in Jeremy's eyes intensified.
"No worries, no worries. Worst case, we'll both get drunk together."
Quinley thought to herself—if she actually got drunk, he'd devour her whole.
She'd worked so hard on this setup. No way was she letting Jeremy take advantage of her.
She pulled the revised document from her bag and slid it to Jeremy. "Business before pleasure, Mr. Davis. Could you check if anything else needs revising? Once work's settled, I can turn it in tomorrow. Then I can focus on keeping you company tonight."
Hearing this, Jeremy's eyes narrowed to slits.
"Of course, of course."
He flipped through it quickly, then whipped out a pen and scrawled his approval across the top.
"Mr. Davis, you barely even looked at it."
Quinley pouted playfully.
Mr. Davis handed the document back, flicking her forehead lightly. "I trust your work."
Quinley tucked the document away safely. With business handled, her mind settled.
"Come on, let's drink."
Jeremy filled Quinley's glass to the brim, ready to get her wasted.
Quinley raised the glass but only took a tiny sip.
"That won't do. Finish it."
Jeremy pushed.
Quinley deliberately played weak. "Mr. Davis, I'm a girl. Just drinking is boring. Why don't you teach me some drinking games instead? You work so hard—you probably never get to relax. If you don't mind, I'd love to help you unwind."
Every sentence sounded like she was thinking of him.
He was a wolf with deep cunning, but right now, numbed by alcohol and sweet talk, his guard was dropping.
"Sure, I'll teach you."
Jeremy enthusiastically explained the rules while Quinley played the confused innocent, stumbling through clumsily.
Her bumbling act made Jeremy increasingly satisfied.
Same old routine—she lost the first three rounds spectacularly.
Every loss made Jeremy more cocky.
"Come on, drink up."
He personally poured her drinks and brought the glass to her lips, supervising as she drank.
After three consecutive glasses, Quinley looked thoroughly wasted.
"Mr. Davis, you can't bully me like this. I'm still learning."
She pouted.
Jeremy rushed to reassure her. "I'll go easy on you. Give you a handicap."
He said he'd let her win. And after that, Quinley started a winning streak.
She won five rounds straight. Jeremy drank five glasses.
"Mr. Davis, thank you for being so generous."
Every time Jeremy lost, Quinley said the same grateful words.
He lost, but happily drank anyway.
After seven or eight glasses, Jeremy's eyes started glazing over.
What he didn't know was that Quinley had switched bottles when pouring his drinks.
She'd arrived early and mixed high-proof liquor into beer bottles.
At first, she gave him actual beer. But once he was numb to it, she started serving him the spiked stuff without him noticing.
"Ms. Promise, you're so adorable. I really like you."
Jeremy was finally drunk.
"Mr. Davis, let me take you home."
Quinley stood, helping Jeremy to his feet.
He stumbled, unsteady on his feet.
A taxi had been waiting by the curb for a while. When Quinley emerged, it honked.
Quinley helped Jeremy over. The car door opened. A woman sat in the back seat, wearing the exact same dress as Quinley.
Quinley shoved Jeremy inside. He immediately fell into the woman's arms.
"Take him to his hotel."
Quinley pulled out a keycard and handed it to Detective Wilson.
This time, he was disguised as a cab driver.
"You're playing with fire here. Be careful you don't get burned."
Detective Wilson glanced in the rearview mirror, his warning genuine.
Jeremy's position made him dangerous to mess with. This could blow back on her.
Quinley was unbothered. "Then we'll both burn."
She pulled out a stack of cash from her bag and handed it to the woman.
"You know what to do?"
"I know."
The woman nodded.
Quinley didn't linger. She hailed another cab and headed straight for the south city apartment.
On the way, she turned her phone back on.
Her call log was filled with missed calls from Zachary.
He'd also sent a barrage of messages.
[I know what you're planning. Quinley, Jeremy is dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt.]
[Where are you? I'll come find you.]
[What the hell are you doing? Tell me.]
...
Quinley read through all the messages, then sent Zachary a casual reply with an emoji.
[Felt tired this afternoon. Got a spa treatment and fell asleep.]
But Zachary didn't respond.
Was he angry?
Or had he not seen it yet?
As she got out of the cab, Quinley stared at her phone for a long time.
When she reached her apartment, she was shocked to find Zachary sitting on the floor outside her door, arms crossed over his knees.
"You're here."
Her heart hammered as she approached him slowly.
He stood there motionless, his eyes dark as the night itself.
"I really did go to the spa."
Quinley tried to explain.
Zachary remained unmoved.
"You should go. I'm tired. I need to rest."
Quinley moved to unlock her door.
Suddenly, strong hands yanked her into his arms.
His kiss came down on her like a storm—hot, fierce, overwhelming.