Chapter 35 Presidential Suite
Selena's POV
"Shut up and listen to me." I cut him off. "You're going to go out there and 'confess' everything to Royce. Tell him you were unhappy with your pay, or whatever bullshit reason, and that you were bought off by people from the Arnault Group. Then, you take this money, take your family, and disappear from Monaco immediately. Go somewhere nobody knows you, and never come back."
I stepped forward, closing in on him, lowering my voice.
"You have two choices. Either take this million and go live your new life. Or stay here and wait for Royce to throw you into the Mediterranean to feed the fish. He has plenty of ways to make you die 'accidentally,' and nobody will ever trace it back to him. Your choice."
The man's face went from pale white to ashen gray. His whole body was shaking, his teeth chattering.
He wasn't stupid. He knew I was telling the truth.
Fear won out in the end. He looked at me like I was a demon, then nodded heavily.
"I... I understand."
Good.
I turned and pulled open the door.
Royce was standing right outside. He'd obviously been waiting the whole time.
Before I could get a word out, the supervisor dropped to his knees and started blubbering his confession to Royce.
I couldn't be bothered to listen to his fabricated lies. I just walked up to Royce.
"Mr. Sterling, your traitor has been found, and the machine is fixed." I raised my wrist and checked the time. "My work here is done. Now, I feel absolutely terrible. My head is killing me. I'm going back."
With that, I moved to walk past him and leave.
"Wait." He grabbed my wrist.
Again with this. This man always liked using this forceful way to make people stay.
"About the partnership..."
"I'm not in the mood to talk about partnerships right now." I shook off his hand, my tone full of impatience. "All I want right now is to find a bed and lie down. If you're really serious about this, wait until I've rested."
I looked at him, my eyes cold.
"Or are you planning to keep a dizzy, nauseous patient stuck in your oil-smelling place?"
He stared at me for a few seconds. Finally, he backed down.
"I'll take you."
"No need. I'll call my own car. I don't want to smell that damn cedar scent in your car anymore."
I didn't give him any more chances to speak. I walked straight out of the workshop and disappeared into Monaco's night.
The moment I got in the taxi, I dropped all my pretenses.
I leaned back against the seat, feeling like every bone in my body had come apart.
I pulled out my phone, found that familiar number, and dialed.
The phone rang for a long time before someone picked up.
"Hello?" Jonathan's lazy voice came through, with the sizzling sound of grilling in the background.
That bastard was having a barbecue.
"Jonathan Hart!" I practically ground out his name through my teeth. "Have you lost your mind?!"
"Oh, it's my little Selena," he said with a laugh, not a trace of nervousness in his tone. "What's wrong? Who's upset our little princess now?"
"Don't give me that!" I was shaking with anger. "The machine at Sterling's workshop—did you tamper with it?"
"Yeah." He admitted it readily, even had the nerve to ask back, "So what? Didn't you fix that piece of junk in no time? Nice job, that's my niece."
I was so angry I almost laughed.
"So what? Do you have any idea how much trouble you almost caused me? Do you know how much that machine is worth? Do you know how much Royce would have lost if I hadn't fixed it?!"
"Of course I know. That's exactly why I wanted him to lose. That arrogant bastard, who does he think he is? Standing up our Hart family girl on a blind date, then making you wear a clown costume to a party to be humiliated? I'm being very generous by not blowing up his whole workshop."
I was momentarily speechless.
"I just wanted to teach him a little lesson, let him know that Hart family daughters aren't so easy to push around."
Fine! My family was just trying to stand up for me!
"Jonathan, this is the last time." I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. "My business, I'll handle myself. I don't want you interfering like this again."
"Okay, okay," he agreed dismissively. "Oh, by the way, I just checked your GPS—there's a black Bentley that's been tailing you. That's the Sterling kid's ride, isn't it? Guess he's still keeping tabs on you."
My heart sank.
I immediately turned to look behind the car.
Sure enough, a black Bentley was following my taxi at a measured distance.
Damn it!
I was about to tell the driver to lose him when my car door was suddenly pulled open from outside.
The car had just stopped at a red light.
Royce Sterling's handsome but infuriating face appeared outside the window.
"Selena." He called my name, his voice low and clear.
He'd actually followed me.
The taxi driver was obviously startled by this man suddenly opening the door, but after one look at Royce's expensive suit and the Bentley following behind, he wisely chose to keep quiet.
"Get out."
"What if I say no?"
I looked at him coldly.
I hated this entitled attitude of his, like the whole world should listen to him.
"Then I'll have my driver offer this gentleman $500 to step out for a few minutes."
He glanced at the driver in the front seat, his tone flat. I saw the driver's eyes light up in the rearview mirror, clearly tempted by the offer.
Unbelievable.
I couldn't be bothered to argue with him over something so pointless. I just pushed open the door and got out.
"What do you want?"
He didn't answer me. Instead, he pulled out a black card holder from his suit pocket, extracted a card, and handed it to me.
"What's this? A tip for me?" I looked at him mockingly.
He didn't get angry at my words. There wasn't even a ripple on his face.
This made me feel a bit irritated, like punching cotton.
"This is the key card to the Presidential Suite at Hotel de Paris," he said. "On behalf of Sterling Group, I'm thanking you for your help tonight. You prevented a disaster worth hundreds of millions of dollars."
I looked at the card in his hand.
"You need a completely safe and quiet place to rest tonight. You didn't even get to eat properly. No one will disturb you there, including me."
He added, "Consider it payment for tonight."
I froze.
I thought he'd followed me to keep pestering me.
But he just... gave me a hotel room?
A payment?
The reason was impeccable, even thoughtful.
It perfectly avoided all the awkward topics between us—the engagement, and those spiked gummies at his villa.
This left me with no way to refuse.
Because I really did need a place to rest in Monaco.
Finally, I reached out and pulled the card from between his fingers.
"Deal." I said. "I hope Mr. Sterling's payment is worth the time I wasted."
With that, I didn't look at him again. I turned and walked toward the black Bentley.
His driver had already opened the back door for me.
I got in, the door closed, cutting off his gaze.
Royce Sterling.
This man was different from what I'd imagined.