Chapter 49 We're Going Home
Quinley froze. Mike was certainly direct.
But quickly, she smiled again. "Mr. Hill, you sign first."
Quinley pulled out a fresh contract from her purse and handed it to Mike. She smiled sweetly, and her words didn't refuse him outright, which left Mike hesitating.
If he didn't sign, he wouldn't get what he wanted from Quinley. If he did sign, he worried Quinley might go back on her word after he tried to take advantage.
Quinley smiled radiantly, holding a pen in one hand and the contract in the other. Mike found himself in a dilemma, but he quickly made his decision.
"I like this obedient side of you." He reached out and pinched Quinley's pale cheek, then took the contract and pen, scrawling his signature.
Quinley collected the contract, folded it up, and tucked it back into her purse. Her mission was complete.
"Mr. Hill, thank you." Quinley shook her increasingly foggy head, struggling to stay alert. She steadied herself against the wall and swayed toward the door.
Mike's dark eyes narrowed as he quickly stood and blocked her path. "Ms. Elikin, trying to back out?"
Quinley looked up with an innocent smile. "Mr. Hill, back out of what?"
She played dumb, and convincingly so.
"You promised me. Sign the contract and sleep with me."
Mike had no patience. Furious, he grabbed Quinley's arm and dragged her toward the seating area. "Mr. Hill, don't rush."
But Mike was beyond waiting. He threw Quinley onto the couch with force and immediately started unbuckling his belt. Quinley's head struck the armrest, stars exploding across her vision. She quickly gripped the armrest and sat up straight.
"Mr. Hill, let's talk this through. You know I'm a public relations representative for the Davis Group. We have professional ethics—we absolutely don't engage in transactional relationships involving money and sex. I swear I never heard you say those words, and I would never do anything that could damage your reputation."
Quinley was clever, playing word games and trying to confuse him. Unfortunately, Mike wasn't listening.
His face darkened as he glared at her, exploding in profanity. "You fucking bitch, got a death wish? I say you're a whore, then you're a goddamn whore who'll spread her legs for anyone. I'm sleeping with you tonight, no question."
Before he finished speaking, he lunged at her. Quinley couldn't dodge in time and was pinned under his massive body. She couldn't move and could barely breathe.
Mike's large hands tore at Quinley's clothes while he muttered obscenities. "Fucking bitch, cheap slut, whore..."
Mike was notoriously difficult in the industry—arrogant, domineering, perverted, and worse. He carried countless terrifying labels. If Quinley fell into his hands tonight, she'd be lucky to escape with her life, let alone her dignity.
In her frantic struggle, the buttons on Quinley's blouse scattered to the floor, revealing her red bra. Mike's bloodshot eyes immediately gleamed with a sickly green light. His large hand reached instinctively for her chest.
Just as Quinley was about to be violated, she suddenly grabbed Mike's hand. "Mr. Hill." Her tone instantly changed completely.
She was expert at reading the wind and adjusting her sails.
"Mr. Hill, they all say you're a real man in that department. That you know how to play and you're so gentle. If you force me, where's the fun in that?"
Quinley's voice turned sweet, her smile seductive. She had an innocent face, but her eyes smoldered with desire. She acted coquettish, pouting her cherry lips in a display of feminine charm.
A wise person doesn't fight a losing battle. She thought that by taking the initiative, Mike might let her go. But she was wrong.
Mike snorted coldly and slapped her across the face. "Damn, you're even cheaper than a whore. You think I'm an idiot?"
He didn't release Quinley but pressed down harder, one hand working his belt while the other fumbled with her pants. His foul mouth gnawed at her slender neck.
Quinley struggled, her hands flailing desperately. He wouldn't respond to gentle persuasion, and she couldn't overpower him physically. Was she really going to be defeated here?
Just as Mike was about to undo her pants completely, Quinley's hand found a bottle on the table. Without thinking, she swung it up and smashed it against the back of Mike's head with every ounce of strength she had.
With a dull thud, Mike clutched his head and rolled onto the floor. Dark red blood gushed out, staining the couch, table, and carpet everywhere.
Quinley grabbed her purse and stumbled toward the exit. Whether from the drink or shock at seeing all that blood, her legs felt weak, as if she were walking on cotton.
The elevator took too long. She couldn't wait and ran down the stairs, her steps chaotic and unsteady. After just two flights, her heel caught in the carpet. She lost her balance and tumbled forward.
Golden Mile Entertainment's staircase was circular, narrow and steep, connecting floor after floor. Quinley rolled like a ball from the eighth floor all the way down to the first-floor lobby.
Her head had been foggy before, but now it was completely scrambled.
"Who's that?" A blurry voice reached Quinley's ears. A man in security uniform waved his hand in front of her face. Quinley felt dizzy and closed her eyes.
"You okay?" The man shouted directly into her ear. She lay on her back, looking dazed from the fall.
Quinley couldn't make out what he was saying. "Hey!" Someone shook her shoulders forcefully, then several people grabbed her arms and dragged her outside, eventually dumping her at the street corner.
"Mr. Jennings, there's someone over there. Looks like Ms. Elikin."
Zachary's car happened to be at the intersection. Lucas stuck his head out the window, pointing toward Quinley lying in the distance. She was curled up in a ball, her outer clothes hiked up to expose half her pale, slender waist. Two men with ill intentions circled around her.
Zachary was in the middle of a video conference when he heard Lucas. His sharp eyes looked in the direction Lucas indicated. With just one glance, he confirmed it was Quinley.
Without a word, he ended the video call with a sharp click, tossed aside his laptop, and immediately got out of the car, running toward Quinley.
"Get lost!" he roared at the two leering men. Intimidated by his presence, they quickly fled.
Zachary's face was cold, but his eyes were red. He immediately removed his jacket and wrapped it around the curled-up Quinley. Her whole body was burning hot like fire, ready to melt away.
Zachary scooped her up and held her tightly in his arms. Her face was flushed with fever, pressed against his chest, searing his heart with pain. Her eyes were closed, consciousness blurred, yet she struggled in his embrace.
"Easy, we're going home." Zachary gritted his teeth and whispered soothingly in Quinley's ear.
She had been restless before, but at that moment, she actually became calm. Her arms naturally wound around his neck, as if trying to meld herself into his body.