Chapter 5 I Never Said I Would Marry You
"Ms. Elikin, I'm so sorry to disturb you this late. Zach's stomach is acting up again. Would you mind bringing over his usual medication?" Alicia's voice was polite and refined, without a trace of socialite arrogance.
"No trouble at all. I'll bring it right over," Quinley replied.
Alicia texted the address: [The Ivy Manor, Private Room 303.]
Quinley's heart skipped. She knew that place well—she'd accompanied Zachary there before, a restaurant famous for exceptional Cajun cuisine.
The choice was telling. Sylvia typically enjoyed strong, spicy flavors, while Zachary preferred milder tastes.
More importantly, he had stomach issues that required him to avoid spicy foods, though he never mentioned these restrictions to accommodate his mother.
After every visit to The Ivy Manor, Quinley would have medication ready for him.
After purchasing the medicine, Quinley arrived at the private dining room.
Sylvia's gaze immediately swept over her, elegant in an emerald gown that exuded wealth and status. Her eyes revealed the same shrewdness, worldliness, and detachment that characterized her son.
"Good evening, Ms. Parker," Quinley greeted respectfully.
Sylvia acknowledged her with a slight nod before looking away.
"Thank you for coming at this hour," Alicia said, rising to accept the medicine. "I should have gone myself, but I didn't know which medication he takes." Her voice was soft and delicate, like a feather.
"It's no trouble," Quinley replied simply.
In the lounge area, Zachary reclined on a sofa, clutching his chest in obvious discomfort. The dim lighting obscured his expression from where Quinley stood.
"Would you mind getting some hot water?" Alicia requested. She opened the medicine box, took out several pills, and walked toward Zachary with graceful movements.
"Here's your medicine, Zach. Take these and you'll feel better soon." She slipped her arm around his neck, attempting to help him.
Zachary resisted, pushing her away and taking the pills himself.
When Quinley returned with water, Alicia again tried to assist Zachary.
"I can manage," he refused.
"You're sick. Let me take care of you," she insisted.
"My stomach hurts, not my hands," he replied, his tone glacial.
Quinley stood awkwardly, feeling the weight of her intrusion. "If there's nothing else, I'll be going now."
As she turned to leave, Alicia caught her arm with excessive familiarity. "Stay and join us for dinner. You've gone to all this trouble—please don't refuse."
She immediately instructed the server to bring additional food and place settings.
Though Quinley knew it was inappropriate for her to remain, she found herself cornered when Alicia leaned close and whispered, "Zach's in a terrible mood today. Help me cheer him up."
A chill ran down Quinley's spine.
"Ms. Davis, you're joking. I'm only Mr. Jennings's secretary. You're the one who understands him." In Sylvia's presence, Quinley tried to maintain professional distance.
But Alicia wouldn't relent, tugging at her arm pleadingly. "Please help me."
When Sylvia added, "Since Alicia wants you to stay, you should stay," Quinley had no further excuse to leave.
She took a seat, though every muscle in her body remained tense.
Alicia placed a piece of spicy BBQ beef brisket on Quinley's plate. "The spicy sauce here is excellent—try it."
"Thank you," Quinley replied, reluctantly taking a bite despite her dislike of fatty meat.
"I should be thanking you for taking such good care of Zach these past years," Alicia said with a meaningful smile. "You can't imagine how difficult his temperament used to be."
As she spoke, she glanced at Zachary, her smile affectionate.
Quinley, ever discreet, knew better than to respond to such remarks.
"Alicia, you'll have your work cut out for you," Sylvia interjected. "Zachary's temper is awful—you'll need to keep him in line. He definitely needs someone to straighten him out!"
The implication was clear to Quinley. The one who needed straightening out wasn't Zachary—it was her.
As Sylvia kept pushing dishes toward Alicia until her plate was piled high, the two women exchanged pleasantries while Quinley sat there, practically invisible.
From the lounge area, Zachary sat up, his cold gaze drifting toward them.
"If you're feeling better, come join us," Sylvia commanded with a sharp look.
Zachary rose and took the seat opposite Quinley.
"I've arranged everything with the wedding planner," Sylvia announced. "The sixth of next month is an auspicious date. You two should start preparing immediately."
Quinley had just put a piece of spicy beef in her mouth. Like Zachary, she couldn't handle spicy food well.
As the heat numbed her tongue, tears welled in her eyes, and she gulped down ice water to soothe the burn.
"I'll defer to Zach's wishes," Alicia said, appearing shy yet clearly delighted.
Zachary maintained his impassive expression. "There's no rush," he said coldly.
"You're twenty-eight already—how is that not urgent?" Sylvia retorted sharply. "Even if you're not concerned, think of Alicia. She's your age—any further delay makes childbearing riskier."
The atmosphere instantly tensed.
Alicia, skilled at reading social cues, quickly moved to Sylvia's side and began massaging her shoulders. "Ms. Parker, Zach and I just got engaged. Perhaps we could postpone the wedding a bit."
Quinley could tell she was trying to defuse the situation.
Surprisingly, Zachary refused her diplomatic effort. "I never said I would marry you."
His statement stunned all three women into silence.
Alicia's face fell, tears forming in her eyes. Clearly, she hadn't expected such bluntness from him.
Sylvia pulled her close for comfort. "Don't listen to him. He's just being difficult today—challenging me!"
She glared fiercely at Zachary, her peripheral vision catching Quinley.
"Don't forget you're a Jennings," she reminded him sternly, warning him that elite marriages were based on interests, not emotions.
Zachary leaned back, his expression dark. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms.
His gaze settled on Alicia, eyes mysterious and unfathomable. "I must decline. I already have someone I want to marry."
"Who?" Sylvia and Alicia asked in unison.
Zachary didn't immediately answer. He lit a cigarette with deliberately slow movements, the tip glowing and dimming as smoke rose and dispersed.
His cold gaze swept over Alicia. "Not you, at any rate."
Alicia's face darkened. Her resentful gaze turned toward Quinley. "Is it her?"
Quinley, who had hoped to remain uninvolved, found herself suddenly at the center of the conflict.
She rose hastily, hands raised in denial. "Ms. Davis, you're mistaken. It couldn't possibly be me."
Tears streamed down Alicia's face as she bit her lower lip, suppressing her emotions yet clearly unwilling to accept defeat. "Zach, tell me the truth. Is it her or not?"
She looked at him, stubbornly waiting for an answer.
Zachary stood, his expression grim. He extinguished his half-smoked cigarette and walked directly toward the door.
Alicia's questioning had crossed his line. He would not answer.
But his silence thrust Quinley into an abyss from which there might be no return.