Chapter 80

Chapter 80

What started as a light drizzle turned into a downpour, with water pooling under the eaves and forming small streams. 

Camila and Willie waited for over half an hour, but the rain showed no signs of stopping. They had no choice but to share an umbrella and walk side by side back to the hotel.

The rain soaked Camila's pants, making them cling uncomfortably to her legs. She frowned, unable to hide her discomfort.

When they finally reached the hotel lobby, the others who hadn't gone to the bar were already back, anxiously discussing their whereabouts at the front desk. 

Seeing Camila and Willie walk in, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, though their expressions turned curious and slightly awkward.

Camila pretended not to notice the looks. She was about to ask a staff member for a towel to dry her pants when Willie knelt down, pulled a dry towel from his bag, and gently wiped the rain off her ankles.

His touch was light, his fingers occasionally brushing her skin with a warmth that felt too intimate, completely out of character for his usual shyness.

The elevator dinged open, and Clifford stepped out. 

He had just finished an online meeting and, seeing the heavy rain outside, had taken out his phone to call Camila. But then he heard her familiar ringtone nearby.

Looking up, he saw Willie kneeling in front of Camila, the two of them very close. The sight made his eyes sting with jealousy.

Ignoring the people around him, Clifford strode over and pulled Camila to his side, his voice tense with concern. "You got caught in the rain? Are you cold?"

Before Camila could answer, Clifford snatched the towel from Willie's hand, his gaze icy. "I'll take care of her."

Willie's hand froze mid-air. He looked up at Clifford, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a coldness, but he said nothing, just stood up and stepped back.

The tension between the two men was palpable, the atmosphere charged. Their colleagues, stunned for a moment, quickly moved to separate them.

"Camila, your pants are soaked. Why don't you go take a hot shower?" a female colleague suggested, trying to break the awkwardness.

"Yes, yes, I'll have the staff bring up some hot cocoa. It'll warm you up," another colleague chimed in, signaling to the others.

Willie instinctively stepped forward to help Camila upstairs, but Clifford grabbed his wrist. "This is none of your business," Clifford's voice was cold and firm. "Know your place."

Willie met Clifford's gaze, his expression unchanged but his voice defiant. "I lived with her. I know how to take care of her."

"I know you lived together," Clifford sneered, his voice low but loud enough for everyone to hear. "But to her, you're just a stripper she took pity on. Don't overstep your bounds."

The lobby fell silent. The colleagues had speculated about Willie's background, but no one had dared to say it out loud.

Camila's face turned cold. She pulled her hand free from Clifford's grip and looked at him. "That's enough. Stop talking nonsense."

"You know I'm not," Clifford snapped, his temper flaring. He reached out to pull her into his arms, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Come with me. I'll get you some dry clothes."

Camila resisted, trying to shake off his hand, her wrist aching from his grip.

The next moment, Clifford felt a rush of air by his face, a fist narrowly missing his ear. The near miss made him flinch, his cheek stinging.

"Let her go."

Willie stood in front of Camila, his fists clenched, knuckles white, eyes blazing with anger.

Clifford, enraged, raised his hand to strike back, but their colleagues quickly intervened. "Mr. Thompson, please calm down! We're all on the same team. Let's talk this out."

"Yes, Mr. Thompson, Willie is young and doesn't understand. Please don't hold it against him."

"Willie, apologize to Mr. Thompson, and let's end this."

Willie stood his ground, his jaw set, showing no intention of apologizing.

"Enough, everyone stop." Camila's voice, though weary, was firm enough to quiet the chaos. 

She took the towel from Clifford's hand. "We're all tired. Let's just go to our rooms and rest."

With that, she turned and walked to the elevator. 

Clifford tried to follow, but she stopped him at the door. "I'm going to take a shower and rest," she said, pressing the button to close the doors. "You should go back too."

The elevator doors closed, cutting off Clifford's view.

Back in her room, Camila tossed her soaked clothes into the laundry basket and stepped into the shower. 

The hot water washed away the chill, and she leaned against the tiles, faintly hearing knocking and Clifford's voice outside, muffled by the water and the door.

When she emerged, towel-drying her hair, the knocking had stopped.

She wiped the fog from the mirror, her reflection showing no signs of the turmoil, just a hint of fatigue in her eyes.

Her phone buzzed with messages from Fiona: [Was there drama in the lobby? I just got back from the bar and heard Mr. Thompson and Willie almost fought. Too bad I missed it!]

Camila looked at the screen, a cold smile playing on her lips. She typed a quick reply: [Willie confessed to me.]

Fiona called immediately, her voice filled with regret. "What? He confessed? I should've skipped the bar. How could I miss this?"

"I turned him down." Camila walked to the window, parting the curtains to watch the rain still falling outside.

"Of course you did!" Fiona's voice was clear over the phone. "He's not even twenty. Being with him wouldn't help you at all. It's not worth it."

"But..." Camila wiped the mirror again, her gaze sharpening. "I just had an idea."

"What idea?"

"Maybe having him around will help me use Clifford better." Camila's voice was soft but certain. 

"Albert won't be around for a while. Clifford seems to listen to me now, but to make him more 'loyal,' the best way is to give him some competition."

She looked at her reflection, a faint smile on her lips.

Willie might just be the perfect choice.