Chapter 48 I Want You to Sleep with Me
Zachary didn't waste another word on Alicia. He turned and walked away, his steps quick and final.
He didn't like her. The more he rejected her, the more Alicia wanted to challenge that. She slowly rose from the ground, picked up the thermos, and tossed it into the trash can. When she left, tears still clung to her lashes, but her expression was ice-cold.
For the next few days, she didn't show up at the hospital. Her homemade chicken soup disappeared along with her.
That day, Quinley brought back takeout soup. Dennis took one sip and spat it out. "This tastes awful. Nothing like what Alicia makes."
When Quinley visited Colin, Marlee complained, "Quinny, why hasn't Ms. Davis been coming by? You two didn't have a fight, did you? That girl comes from good family and has such lovely manners. You should be grateful."
See? It wasn't just Dennis—even Marlee had grown fond of Alicia.
"Mom, I need to head back to the office for something." Quinley made an excuse and slipped out, though she actually did go to the company.
Walking past the main office area, everyone looked up at her. Just days ago, Quinley had been led away from this very spot by police, causing quite the commotion. They hadn't expected to see her back here, safe and sound.
"Ms. Morgan." Ignoring the strange looks, Quinley knocked on Lauren's office door. Lauren was leaning back in her leather chair, typing on her phone. When she saw Quinley appear, she glanced up briefly.
"If you haven't sorted out your mess, what are you doing at the office?"
Quinley walked in and pulled over the chair in front of Lauren's desk, plopping down. "I'm working on it. Doesn't mean I can't work."
Lauren slammed her phone down with a heavy thud. "Quinley, we're a legitimate business. If you bring losses to this company, can you handle that responsibility?"
Quinley laughed, grabbing the cigarettes and lighter from Lauren's desk. She crossed her legs and lit one up. "Ms. Morgan, I'm innocent. The police are investigating—sooner or later, I'll be cleared. My dad and brother are both in the hospital, I owe a million in debt, and every day I wake up, it's just more expenses. Tell me, can I just sit around and wait for disaster?"
She blew a long stream of smoke at Lauren. She wasn't one to play the victim, but right now, she spoke of her circumstances with calculated lightness, clearly fishing for sympathy.
Lauren considered for a moment, then picked up her phone. "I can't make this decision alone. I need to check with Mr. Davis." She stood and walked to the window, dialing Harold's number.
"Mr. Davis." Lauren kept her voice low as she explained Quinley's situation. At the end, Harold seemed to respond, though Quinley couldn't make out the words clearly. She only heard Lauren say, "Understood. I'll follow your instructions."
By the time Lauren finished her call, Quinley had finished her cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray. Lauren returned to her seat, studying Quinley with a meaningful look.
"Mr. Davis says you can come back to work, but you need to resolve your troubles quickly."
"Thank you, Mr. Davis and Ms. Morgan. I'll definitely handle it soon." Quinley nodded and left Lauren's office.
In the break room, several women were gossiping so intently they didn't notice Quinley standing right behind them.
"Look at that shameless attitude of hers. You can tell she's the type who'd do anything. Stealing Mr. Cortez's company seal—what nerve!"
"Exactly! I heard she used to work at some big corporation, like as an executive secretary or something. Probably got kicked out for stealing there too."
"Well, you better all be careful. Lock up anything valuable in your drawers. You can't guard against inside thieves—she might just pocket your stuff when you're not looking."
They chatted enthusiastically while Quinley listened with interest. It wasn't until Lauren emerged from her office and spotted the scene that anything changed.
"During work hours, instead of doing your jobs, you're gossiping?" Her sharp reprimand made them whip around to find Quinley smiling brightly at them.
"Please, continue. I'm enjoying this." Quinley acted as if the person they were slandering wasn't her at all. She wasn't angry or hurt.
The embarrassed ones were the gossipers. They scattered awkwardly, with one woman even forgetting her coffee mug. Quinley called after her. "Jill, do you still want your cup? If not—"
She deliberately drew out the word, making the woman named Jill rush back to grab her mug before fleeing. In her haste, coffee splashed out, staining her white dress with brown splotches that bloomed like little accidents.
Once everyone left, the break room became peaceful. Quinley poured herself a cup of coffee. Lauren approached with a serious expression.
"There's a client meeting tonight. Word is the guy's a real piece of work. Mr. Davis said whoever can close him gets an extra three percent commission. Since you need money urgently, I'm asking you first. If you won't go, I'll ask someone else."
When Lauren spoke to Quinley, everyone in the main office craned their necks to watch, though they didn't dare stare openly.
"I'll go. I'm willing." Quinley agreed immediately. No matter how difficult, if it meant earning money, she'd do it.
Lauren sighed softly. "You better think it through. This guy isn't just difficult—he's impossible."
"Don't worry, Ms. Morgan. I guarantee I'll complete the mission." Quinley radiated confidence. Lauren studied her intently, seeming to want to say something more, but ultimately kept quiet.
Seven PM. Quinley went to Golden Mile Entertainment with two other account managers. Once again, they were in a large private room. Quinley had done her homework—tonight's target was Mike Hill, who ran a resort that had business dealings with the Davis Group. For some reason, he'd requested to terminate their contract a few days ago. Tonight, Quinley's mission was to convince Mike to continue their partnership.
In the private room, Quinley sat down next to Mike. He was tall with a large beer belly and a long, sour face.
"Mr. Hill, let me toast you first." Quinley poured a drink and raised her glass to Mike. He only gave her a cold glance, neither picking up his glass nor drinking. Total 'I'm too cool for this' attitude.
"Then I'll drink first as a sign of respect." Quinley tilted her head back and drained her glass. Mike remained motionless.
"How about I sing a song with you, Mr. Hill?" Quinley suggested. Mike snorted through his nose but didn't respond or acknowledge her.
This was Quinley's first encounter with someone like this, and she was momentarily stumped. She racked her brain trying to establish friendly communication with Mike, but he wasn't buying what she was selling.
"Mr. Hill, why don't we discuss the business partnership? Terminating your contract with the Davis Group would be nothing but harmful to you..." Before Quinley could finish, Mike suddenly stood up angrily and walked straight out.
Quinley instinctively got up to follow. Before coming here, she'd promised Lauren she'd handle this. If she went back on her word, she'd have no way to explain herself.
Outside the private room, Mike walked down the carpeted hallway at an unhurried pace, as if deliberately waiting for Quinley. Quinley quickened her steps to catch up.
"Mr. Hill, regarding our partnership, whatever concerns you have, we can discuss them."
Mike stopped and looked down at Quinley from his height, then suddenly spoke. "Let's talk somewhere else." He pushed open the door to a private room at the end of the hallway.
The lighting inside was dim, with bottles and glasses arranged on the table. Mike poured himself a glass of whiskey and handed it to Quinley. "Drink this, then we'll talk."
He was giving her a chance—she couldn't afford to miss it. So Quinley took the glass and, without thinking, tilted her head back and downed it all. The liquid burned as it slid down her throat, blooming like fire.
"Mr. Hill, you and the Davis Group have worked together for years—we have history. Whatever your demands are, just name them. I'll definitely fight for you with the company. As long as you continue partnering with the Davis Group, I promise I can secure the best possible terms for you."
Quinley recited her prepared pitch while Mike gripped his whiskey glass. He poured himself a generous amount but didn't drink, just kept swirling it. The motion made Quinley's head spin.
"My demand is simple." Mike squinted as he looked Quinley up and down. The alcohol had flushed her face a lovely pink.
"Tell me." Quinley smiled accommodatingly.
Mike pointed a finger at her and said, "I want you to sleep with me."