Chapter 21 Drinks and Games
Evergreen House was a Rosewood City institution, renowned for its innovative fusion cuisine.
Quinley had dined here numerous times with Zachary. With his preference for subtle flavors, he particularly favored a dish called "Moon over the River"—a delicately seared portobello mushroom floating in a clear broth, resembling a half-moon reflected on water.
The dish was both visually poetic and meticulously crafted, a signature of the restaurant.
Quinley had never shared his enthusiasm for it, disliking the earthy taste of mushrooms.
As she followed Lauren into the elevator, her calm eyes took in her surroundings. Two other women accompanied them—Sadie, another recent hire, and Ruby, clearly a veteran who regarded the newcomers with barely concealed disdain.
"Stay sharp tonight," Lauren instructed. "Ruby has experience—follow her lead."
Quinley and Sadie nodded obediently.
The elevator ascended directly to the eighth floor, a private level reserved for VIP guests requiring advance reservations.
Whenever Quinley had accompanied Zachary here, they had always been seated on this exclusive floor.
When the doors opened, Ruby exited first, with Sadie immediately attaching herself to the experienced woman's side.
"I'm Sadie Rivera," she introduced herself eagerly.
Ruby gave her a dismissive glance. With her sweet features, Ruby embodied the type of beauty men found irresistible yet couldn't easily forget.
Sadie absorbed the rejection without complaint—as a newcomer, she needed the guidance of veterans.
Quinley, by contrast, exited last and maintained her distance, appearing somewhat isolated.
"Quinley," Lauren called, holding her back. "I don't need to explain what's appropriate and what isn't, do I?"
She wasn't treating Quinley like a novice.
"I understand perfectly, Ms. Morgan," Quinley assured her.
She was a public relations professional, not a prostitute. Her job was to entertain clients, keep them happy, and maintain her principles while adapting to circumstances.
The goal was to facilitate successful business deals for the parent company.
Success meant substantial commissions; failure wasn't an option. Playing games or mishandling Lauren's instructions would result in penalties.
The group proceeded to a private dining room. Lauren knocked, and upon receiving permission, opened the door.
A circle of men sat around the table. Quinley quickly scanned their faces, relieved to find no one she recognized.
Lauren approached the man at the head of the table, her demeanor instantly transforming into playful charm. "Mr. Carter, I apologize for our tardiness. The traffic was terrible."
A woman's softness was often her most lethal weapon.
"Three penalty drinks!" someone shouted, and the other men laughed, their eyes sweeping over Lauren and the three women behind her.
"I'm afraid I can't tonight—it's that time of the month," Lauren demurred with practiced grace. "I must appeal to your gentlemanly nature."
The men weren't so easily deterred.
"If you can't drink, your lovely companions can do it for you," another suggested.
Business was business, but pleasure came first. Alcohol created the right atmosphere, and beautiful women enhanced it further.
Quinley noticed the glasses weren't large, but they contained whiskey. Three consecutive shots would incapacitate most people.
She herself was particularly vulnerable—a single drink would render her useless.
On her birthday one year, Zachary had suggested a celebratory toast. One glass of whiskey had put her to sleep for twenty-four hours. Since then, he had forbidden her from drinking alcohol, and no one would dare offer her any in his presence.
Lauren smiled apologetically, looking uncertainly at her three companions. They were on the same team, and shielding Lauren from drinks was part of their responsibility.
But the men weren't interested in how much the women could drink—they wanted to see them vulnerable, playful, maybe even embarrassed.
Creating such entertainment would smooth the path to successful negotiations.
As both Sadie and Quinley were new, Lauren hesitated to put them on the spot. Embarrassment was one thing, but losing a deal was unacceptable.
"Ruby, why don't you toast our distinguished guests?" Lauren turned to her veteran employee.
Ruby embodied what men desired—youthful innocence combined with a generous figure: ample breasts, slender waist, and eye-catching hips. Her experience made her Lauren's go-to choice for important functions.
She pouted prettily, channeling a delicate, damsel-in-distress charm. "Ms. Morgan, I can't drink! Alcohol makes my head spin immediately."
Her voice was soft as willow branches in a spring breeze, her eyes conveying both resistance and invitation—a high-level technique of attraction that few men could resist.
"Then don't drink. I'd be worried if you did," said the balding man seated beside Damon Carter, reaching for Ruby's wrist and pulling her closer. "We'll share soup instead of alcohol."
He ladled soup into a bowl and offered it to her. They took turns sipping from the same bowl, creating an intimate tableau.
The atmosphere in the room immediately intensified.
Ruby became the center of attention, drawing every man's gaze like a magnet.
Normally, after such pleasantries and the meal itself, business discussions would flow naturally.
Lauren signaled for Quinley and Sadie to find seats at the table.
She then approached Damon with exaggerated hip movements. "Mr. Carter, I hear you've struck gold again recently!"
Damon ignored her comment, his eyes unexpectedly landing on Quinley.
"We haven't had our drinks yet," he remarked pointedly.
Lauren understood immediately—he had noticed Quinley.
While Quinley was undeniably beautiful, her appeal differed from Ruby's damsel-like charm or Sadie's innocent allure. Despite her efforts to blend in, something about her stood out.
She wore a simple sleeveless gray dress with minimal makeup, deliberately understated. Yet this restraint only highlighted her natural elegance.
Sitting with perfect posture, she smiled politely but not obsequiously. Her eyes revealed confidence and intelligence that couldn't be disguised.
"Quinley, come here," Lauren beckoned, vacating her seat next to Damon.
"Be clever," she whispered as a final warning.
Quinley nodded slightly and greeted the client. "Good evening, Mr. Carter."
Damon, a broad-faced man in his forties with heavy eyebrows, barely acknowledged her. "Drink for Ms. Morgan," he ordered, gesturing toward the whiskey.
Lauren tensed, concerned about how her inexperienced employee would handle this demand.
To her surprise, Quinley smiled naturally, without affectation. "Mr. Carter, I don't drink alcohol."
Her refusal was direct—no wheedling, no feigned weakness.
"What kind of PR person doesn't drink?" Damon's face darkened with displeasure.
Quinley maintained her smile. "I play rock-paper-scissors. Do you, Mr. Carter?"
Quinley had mastered this simple game through observation. During a social event at a bar with Zachary, she had watched someone turn the childhood game into a sophisticated psychological battle.
Her quick mind had absorbed the subtle tactics.
Her first real test had been against Percy, where she had won easily. Now she was calling on that skill again.
Damon's interest was immediately piqued.
"You play rock-paper-scissors?" The contrast between Quinley's refined appearance and this casual bar game created an intriguing dissonance.
"Not very well," she replied modestly. "If you know how, perhaps you could teach me."
At business dinners, women batting eyelashes and acting cute had become predictable.
Something unexpected, even slightly uncultured, held particular appeal for these outwardly sophisticated businessmen.
By suggesting this game, Quinley had pierced through the veneer of polite business conduct, offering exactly what these men secretly desired.
Just as she had planned, Quinley lost the first three rounds.
In the delicate dance of gender dynamics, balance was crucial. A woman who excelled at everything might be admired but rarely approached. Quinley understood this perfectly.
Even when she could win, she chose to lose. Losing activated a man's protective instincts, lowered his guard, and stimulated his competitive spirit.
After three losses, Quinley proceeded to win three consecutive rounds.
The entire room's attention converged on their game.
When Quinley lost, the men laughed.
When Damon lost, they laughed even harder.
"Ms. Elikin has impressive luck!" someone commented.
Quinley demurred. "Mr. Carter is an excellent teacher."
Men often enjoyed feeling like mentors.
When Damon suggested a fourth round, Quinley strategically backed away.
"I shouldn't continue, Mr. Carter. I was just lucky to win those rounds. My alcohol tolerance is terrible—if I get drunk, I become unruly. If that costs us the deal, I'll be in serious trouble."
She was expertly setting a trap for Damon.
Lauren caught on immediately and played along. "Mr. Carter, perhaps we should stop here. Quinley really can't handle alcohol. If something goes wrong and our company loses this business opportunity, I couldn't bear the responsibility."
Damon, caught up in the game and loosened by alcohol, made a grand gesture. "Bring the contract! I'll sign it now. And if you can win three more rounds against me, I'll extend it for another three years."
Quinley pretended to be nervous while refilling their glasses.
Lauren rushed to produce the contract. Damon signed without hesitation.
The game resumed, and Quinley won three more consecutive rounds.
The room erupted in excitement as Damon, true to his word, agreed to extend the contract for three additional years.
Lauren, beaming with triumph, hurried out to prepare the supplementary paperwork.
In her haste, she left the door ajar.
From the corridor, a pair of cold eyes glanced into the room.
It was Zachary.