Chapter 94: The First Woman (Part One)

Spend the night?

"Are you nuts? That's like twenty or thirty grand a pop. Isn't it nice enough at home?" Asher gasped in disbelief.

Stella's monthly salary barely hit fifty grand, even without counting bonuses. And to someone as frugal as Asher, spending that kind of money just to crash for a night seemed like throwing it away.

"But I really don't feel like moving, and... I just want to stay one night," Stella pouted, the envy clear in her eyes.

Stella came from humble beginnings and lived frugally, where spending that kind of money could cover several months of her mortgage. But today was her birthday, she'd had a great time, and splurging half a month's salary seemed justifiable to her for once.

Asher felt a wave of reluctant resignation wash over him. This woman, Stella Turner, was a real piece of work—a veritable whirlwind of spontaneity. Sleep wherever the wind took her?

“Just pad my year-end bonus a bit, and we'll call it even.” Stella's eyes twinkled with mischief as she grinned at Asher.

"Jesus, what does that have to do with me? I'm not the one staying!" Asher retorted, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"You might as well hang out for a bit. Part of tonight's bill is on you anyway. Just top off my bonus at the end of the year to make it up to me—that settles it. Don't worry; I won’t rat you out to my godfather.”

Asher was dumbfounded.

“Come on, let's get the room booked. I can't take another step; I’m wiped. My feet are even starting to hurt,” Stella proclaimed, yanking Asher’s arm and practically dragging him into the hotel.

But it made sense—after all, they had roamed all over the Harmony Center, and then spent the entire afternoon here playing around. Even Asher, who worked out religiously, felt a bit worn out, let alone Stella, whose prior foot injury had only recently healed.

"Okay, okay... Just let me grab my knife from the car," Asher said.

He was never certain if danger would strike, so he always kept his trusty knife close, stashed in the trunk of Porsche.

"Afraid I’ll hurt you? Need a knife to feel safe?" Stella jeered.

"You just don’t get it. A true adventurer never parts with his blade," Asher declared with pride.

"Fine, go get it. I'm heading to the front desk to check into our room. I can’t stand another minute."

"Let's get moving. I’ve booked us a villa on the hill.” By the time Asher returned with his knife, Stella was already impatiently waiting at the grand hotel's front desk, eager to settle into the villa.

“Hold up, I'll book a room too," Asher announced.

Since he had no intention of heading home tonight, he figured he might as well stay at this lavish establishment. The Harmony Hills Hotel, after all, was part of the Bennett family's enterprise—one of its pillar industries—and its yearly revenues were in the hundreds of millions. Not to mention, its security was obviously top-notch.

"You're booking a room? Not going back tonight?" asked Stella, her curiosity piqued.

“Not going back,” was all Asher said, offering no further explanation.

"Why don't you just stay with me instead of booking another room?" suggested Stella Turner directly, before quickly realizing how her words might sound. "I mean, it's a villa, a three-story villa. You have your space, I have mine—it's huge."

As she spoke, Stella glanced at the receptionist.

The receptionist gave Asher a small smile and elaborated, "Yes, sir, Ms. Turner has reserved a luxury villa for you. The ground floor features an entertainment suite with a pool table, a private karaoke room, and even a small bath fed by natural springs; the second floor boasts four expansive suites; and the top floor sports a large terrace perfect for sipping wine and admiring the ocean's night view. It's quite the spot for a party, easily accommodating a dozen guests. But of course, it's perfect for just the two of you as well."

Stella, listening beside him, was visibly thrilled, vigorously nodding with stars in her eyes.

Asher too found the idea alluring, though his overwhelming thought was: What an extravagant waste!

The price tag was indeed hefty, but if they were hosting a dozen people as the receptionist described, the cost per person wouldn't seem so exorbitant.

"You’d better get some rest. I need to step out for a bit," Asher said, trying to maintain composure as he watched Stella lounge comfortably on the sofa, kicking off her canvas shoes and revealing her delicate feet to the air. He quickly swallowed and averted his eyes.

"Where're you going?" Stella inquired, curious.

"Just a run to grab some things," he replied.

"Why don't you wait a while? I plan on going out later. I heard there's a beach bonfire happening in half an hour. Let's go enjoy it together," Stella suggested casually, casting a lazy, inviting glance at Asher from the couch.

"I’d love to, but it's already getting late, and I don't want to miss the stores before they close," Asher remarked, glancing at the clock—it was twenty to eight. Besides, he didn't want to stick around Stella any longer, not with the provocative memory from the mall flaring up in his mind, making him wary of what might happen if he stayed.

"Closing? What do you need to buy that you didn't mention earlier at the mall?" Stella asked, puzzled by his sudden urge to shop.

"I just remembered, there’s a small flower market down the street. I wanted to pick up some flowers," he fibbed, although not entirely. He wasn’t planning on buying decorative flowers; his intention was to gather ingredients for the Spirit Elixir.

"Buddy, I thought you were a bit of a blockhead, but turns out you're quite the romantic, huh? How did you know I like all these flowers and plants?" Stella Turner gave Asher a flirtatious look, her words leaving Asher speechless. He thought to himself that he didn't buy the flowers for her birthday, yet he wasn't sure how to explain that.

"I'm gonna rest up a bit. Let's go flower shopping together later. Come sit down, will ya? Who said you're the boss today? It's not even noon yet." Stella beckoned Asher with a flick of her finger when she saw the helpless look on his face standing in the doorway.

"Stella, aren't you tired? Got any other orders?" Asher managed to avoid gazing at Stella's provocative pose on the couch and approached with a grimace.

"Sit down, why stand there like a goof? What, you think I'm gonna hurt you or something?" Stella pouted, clearly dissatisfied.

"I'm not tired," Asher mumbled, sitting down on the couch with evident anxiety. It wasn't that he feared Stella would hurt him; he was more afraid he wouldn't be able to resist getting together.

"Not tired?" Stella queried, her voice trailing off as her enticing legs shifted from the coffee table into Asher's lap, and she comfortably repositioned her body on the couch, laying her legs across his.

As Asher stared dumbfounded at her legs, his face a mix of emotions, Stella couldn't help but giggle. "Thought you weren't tired?"

"Uh... yeah? I guess?" Asher instinctively nodded, then realized what he'd agreed to. He looked helplessly at Stella, eyes filled with confusion, clueless about what her words implied.

"If you're not tired, give me a massage then. I've been walking around shopping all day. My calves are killing me, and you were so good at it before. Come on, give me a quick rub, and then we'll go buy flowers," Stella urged him.

"You really want a massage?" Asher asked, stunned, his face so pained it was as if he'd swallowed a bitter pill, thinking to himself what a torturous request it was.

"Of course, I want a real massage. We've done it before. What's there to be shy about? Hurry up, no more excuses. After we get back, I might even give you one in return," Stella shot him a stern look, pressing him to act.

"I think I'll pass, I'm not that tired," Asher said awkwardly, shaking his head as he mentally chanted an anthem for inner peace while he reached for one of Stella's feet.

This time around, massaging Stella's ankle was different from that rushed moment in the past. Now, they were on the couch, and Asher felt oddly exhilarating, his heart pounding furiously as he carefully began to massage her. Although he wasn't professionally trained, his innate smarts made him well-versed in the body's pressure points – a skill honed through childhood sessions helping his grandfather. Despite years having passed, his touch remained skilled and deft.