Chapter 65 Perfume on Her Skin
Yosef glanced at Elizabeth before answering Emma on the other end of the line. "As long as you and Mr. Robinson are fine, there's nothing to worry about. I'll hang up now." He ended the call.
Elizabeth propped her chin on one hand, her eyes narrowing. "There's a meeting at ten-thirty."
Yosef nodded.
If Emma wasn't concerned, he saw no reason to get involved. And if neither Elizabeth nor Emma cared, the matter was closed.
"Bring me a coffee, please," he said, heading into his office.
Elizabeth made it herself, her gaze lowered the entire time. She'd decided she would speak to Timothy face-to-face after work about Emma. If they made sense together, fine. If not, they'd break up. No drama.
Around noon, Timothy texted her: [Dinner tonight?]
Elizabeth replied: [Sure. What time?]
Timothy: [I'll pick you up at five-thirty.]
Elizabeth: [Okay. I'll wait for you at TechStrong.]
After replying, she checked Sherry's itinerary. Sherry was still in Harmony City.
A faint smile curved Elizabeth's lips as she placed an online order for a trash bin—paying ten times its price. She asked the seller to wrap it beautifully and send it to Sherry's hotel, with the sender listed as Armando.
She could already picture Sherry's face when she saw it, and the thought made her laugh.
At the hotel, Sherry had been seething ever since Elizabeth's Instagram post flipped the narrative. She'd planned to stir trouble for Elizabeth, but it had backfired.
Della got a call from the front desk about a package for Sherry, supposedly from Armando. She went down to collect it herself, hoping it might lift Sherry's mood.
Sherry's spirits did rise a little when she heard it was from Armando. "Pack up. I'm heading back to Silverlight City this afternoon. I miss Sloane."
Della smiled. "Alright."
But the moment Sherry opened the package and saw a trash bin inside, her expression hardened. "Find out who delivered this. Ask the front desk for a description."
Della's face fell too. She'd thought it was a genuine gift. "Could be from a hater?"
Sherry's grip tightened on the bin. "Or Elizabeth."
Elizabeth hadn't bothered to hide her involvement. Anyone who wanted to could trace it back to her. "Forget it. It's not important right now. Whether it was her or not, she started this mess."
She tossed the bin aside. There would be plenty of chances to deal with Elizabeth later. Timothy wouldn't protect her forever. Sherry had seen him with Emma at the last gala… Elizabeth's luck wouldn't last.
By five-thirty, Elizabeth packed up and went downstairs. Timothy's car was already parked outside. He stepped out, took her bag from her shoulder, and for a moment, her chest tightened at the gesture. She smiled.
"Where do you want to eat?" he asked.
"How about Mexican?" she suggested.
He nodded. "Your call."
Elizabeth smiled again, feeling the faint thrill of dating. She wore a wine-red slip dress that skimmed her knees, a delicate necklace resting against her collarbone. Standing close, Timothy caught the subtle scent of her perfume.
He opened the passenger door for her, his hand briefly cradling the back of her head. His lips brushed the corner of hers before he closed the door. Elizabeth touched her lips lightly, then fastened her seatbelt. Timothy got in and started the car.
On the way, she scrolled through her phone, reading aloud, "Mexican cuisine is known for its bold spices and diverse cooking techniques."
"You know everything," Timothy said in a low voice.
She shot him a look. "I just read that online."
He smirked. He'd had Joe find a well-reviewed Mexican restaurant nearby, and they drove for half an hour before arriving. They chose a table by the window instead of a private room.
Elizabeth ordered mostly spicy dishes. Seeing this, Timothy added a couple of milder ones for balance.
While they waited, the server brought her a coconut drink. Elizabeth rested her chin on her hand, sipping through the straw, her gaze fixed on him. "Can I ask… what's your relationship with Ms. Sutter? Fiancée? Mistress?"
Timothy rolled up his sleeves and met her eyes. "She's my friend's girlfriend. The only woman I have is you."
The server arrived with their food, ending the conversation. The spice hit hard—tongue-numbing, addictive.
After dinner, Timothy drove her home. Elizabeth's tongue was still tingling. "So numb."
He chuckled. "You ordered the spiciest dishes."
"I wanted to."
Her lips, flushed from the heat, looked even more inviting. Timothy's eyes darkened. He pulled over, unfastened his seatbelt, and tilted toward her, holding her chin. It was meant to be a brief kiss, but it deepened quickly. His hands left faint marks on her shoulder. If not for the location, he wouldn't have stopped.
The car started again toward Faith Residence. Elizabeth's tongue felt even more numb. At her building, she didn't invite him upstairs—just unbuckled, shot him a look, and walked away. Timothy laughed quietly to himself.
Later, Armando received photos from the man tailing Elizabeth—shots of her and Timothy kissing in the car. He stared at them for several seconds, his gaze turning cold.
Tom noticed. "We can't trace who uploaded that photo. We didn't check when she was being trashed online, and now it's too late."
Armando nodded, dismissed Tom, then called Elizabeth. The call didn't go through—she'd blocked his number. He tried from the Johnson Group's office line.
Elizabeth was in the middle of her skincare routine when she saw the caller ID. She knew it was Armando's office.
"Elizabeth." His voice was as cool as ever. "Was this whole online stunt your idea? You wanted to humiliate me and Sherry?"
Elizabeth's brow arched. She laughed softly. "The psychiatric hospital is waiting for you two."
She hung up without hesitation.
Almost immediately, her phone buzzed again—a Facebook friend request from Emma.