Chapter 60 How Can I Make Him Fall for Me?
Quinley jumped, her body trembling with shock. She instinctively tried to pull away, but the person grabbed onto her leg directly.
"Where have you been? I've been waiting forever."
A slurred female voice mumbled from below.
Quinley couldn't make out the words clearly. She turned on her phone's flashlight and aimed it at the person's face. To her complete surprise, the person camped outside her door was Alicia—absolutely wasted.
She'd clearly had way too much to drink. Her oval face was flushed bright red, and she clung to Quinley's pant leg while her head lolled against Quinley's body.
"Ms. Davis, what are you doing here?"
Quinley was thoroughly confused.
"Waiting for you," Alicia mumbled again.
Like a sloth, she wrapped her thin arms around Quinley's thigh, pressing her entire body against her.
"I feel so sick," Alicia said, looking like she was about to vomit.
Quinley quickly steadied her. "Ms. Davis, try to hold it in."
She hurriedly unlocked her door. Alicia covered her mouth and practically crawled inside. Quinley helped her to the bathroom where she hugged the toilet, retching violently for what felt like forever before finally calming down, looking completely drained.
"Ms. Elikin, I want some water."
Quinley went to get her a glass while Alicia shakily got to her feet and collapsed onto the living room couch.
Quinley suspected Alicia wasn't as drunk as she was pretending—there was definitely an element of performance here. Alicia was ruthless enough to hurt others to achieve her twisted goals, and she was equally willing to hurt herself.
But Quinley didn't call her out. Alicia showing up drunk at her place was definitely more than just a drunken episode.
Quinley handed her the warm water. Alicia took a few sips and handed it back, her eyes rimmed with red as tears began falling like broken pearls.
"Ms. Elikin, thank you."
"Ms. Davis, should I contact your family?" Quinley asked. She had no intention of comforting her—she just wanted Alicia gone as quickly as possible.
Alicia shook her head. "Ms. Elikin, it hurts so much here." She pointed to her chest.
"Let me take you to the hospital then."
Quinley stood up to call 911, but Alicia grabbed her arm again.
"I'm not sick. My heart just hurts. Ms. Elikin, teach me—how can I make Zach love me?"
A chill ran down Quinley's spine. Alicia was setting another trap.
Teach her? What right did she have? Quinley wasn't falling for this one.
She forced an awkward smile. "Ms. Davis, Mr. Jennings is your fiancé. You should be asking him that question."
Alicia laughed bitterly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But I'm not the one he wants to marry. Ms. Elikin, do you know how much I love him? Do you know what I've sacrificed to marry him? Tell me—the person he wants to marry is you, isn't it?"
Another loaded question. Cold sweat broke out across Quinley's back.
"Ms. Davis, you've had too much to drink. Should I call Mr. Jennings to come pick you up?"
"Okay," Alicia agreed.
She answered too readily, making Quinley even more suspicious about her true motives tonight.
"Mr. Jennings, Ms. Davis is drunk and at my place. Could you come pick her up? I'll send you the address. Don't worry—she's okay for now. I'll take care of her."
Quinley made the call on speakerphone in front of Alicia, expecting Zachary to ask questions. But he didn't.
"Got it," was all he said.
After hanging up, Alicia's emotions were clearly running high. "Zachary's coming to get me?"
Quinley nodded with a smile. "Yes, Mr. Jennings will be here soon. He really does care about you, Ms. Davis."
Alicia alternated between crying and laughing, covering her mouth as tears flowed freely. Her acting skills would put Oscar winners to shame.
"Ms. Davis, please stop crying. Your eyes are all swollen. When Mr. Jennings sees you like this, he'll definitely feel terrible."
Quinley offered comforting words, choosing the ones she thought Alicia wanted to hear.
Alicia nodded vigorously. "Do you have a mirror?"
Before Quinley could answer, she stumbled to her feet and swayed toward the bathroom, examining herself in the mirror above the sink. Her eyes were swollen from crying, but they still held a spark.
"Ms. Elikin, do I look ugly like this? Will Zachary not like it?"
"Of course not, Ms. Davis. You're naturally beautiful. Right now you look heartbreakingly lovely—Mr. Jennings will feel sorry for you, not dislike you."
To get rid of this troublesome situation, Quinley laid on the flattery thick. Of course, she was good at flattery—during her secretary days, she'd often accompanied Zachary to business functions where certain situations required a few well-placed compliments. Zachary was too cold and taciturn for such things, but Quinley had quickly mastered the art of natural, understated praise.
People often complimented her silver tongue, and she'd helped Zachary secure quite a few deals with her smooth talking. Now she was using those same skills on Alicia, who was eating it up.
"I don't want him to feel sorry for me. When he's sad, I'm sad. I want him to be happy. Ms. Elikin, do you understand that feeling?"
Quinley nodded emphatically in agreement.
Less than twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
Alicia rushed toward the living room, then immediately collapsed back into the couch like a wilted flower.
Quinley opened the door to find Zachary standing outside with a thunderous expression, his eyes shooting icy daggers.
He was about to speak when Quinley turned back toward Alicia.
"Ms. Davis, Mr. Jennings is here."
Alicia looked toward the door with bleary eyes, her voice thick with tears. "Zach, I feel terrible."
Zachary stood in the entryway like a block of ice. Quinley knew he was furious—she'd used him to get herself out of a jam, played him like a fool. She'd crossed one of his lines.
But he'd come, and that was what mattered.
Quinley ignored Zachary's mood and helped Alicia up from the couch.
"Ms. Davis had a lot to drink and threw up so much she was practically retching bile. She's been complaining about stomach pain. I don't have any medicine here—could you please take Ms. Davis to the hospital, Mr. Jennings?"
Before she'd even finished speaking, Alicia's Oscar-worthy performance kicked into high gear.
"Zachary, it hurts so much!"
She pressed one hand to her chest and reached toward Zachary with the other. He didn't refuse, but he didn't actively respond either—just stood there motionless as Alicia wound around him like a climbing vine.
Quinley stepped back, putting distance between herself and the pair.
She watched another woman embrace Zachary in her own home, and remarkably, her face showed no sadness, no anger, not even a hint of loss. Instead, she actually smiled—a detached, indifferent smile.
"Mr. Jennings, I won't walk you downstairs. Please take care of Ms. Davis."
Zachary's ink-dark eyes lingered on Quinley for several long moments. Without a word, he left with Alicia in tow.
Quinley walked them to the door and watched as they entered the elevator.
The man stood tall and upright like a tree; the woman clung to him like delicate ivy. From behind, they looked perfectly matched.
The elevator doors opened, and Zachary strode inside with Alicia pressed against his shoulder, following him in.
Just as the doors began to close, Alicia rose on her tiptoes and suddenly kissed Zachary's lips.