Chapter 195

Alice's heart pounded in her chest, the rhythm so intense it seemed as though it might leap from her throat. This sensation was a stark contrast to the fluttering she had once felt for the man standing before her. Now, it was tension that consumed her, the fear of having made a grave mistake. She found herself questioning, what had she done wrong this time?

"Alice," Phillip's voice sliced through the air, icy and unyielding. His towering stature dwarfed her petite frame, his presence a force that completely overwhelmed her.

"Um..." Alice's voice was a mere whisper, her hands nervously twisting the fabric of her dress.

"You like me, don't you?" he asked.

"...Yes."

"The other night, you drank willingly, didn't you?"

"...Yes."

"I invited you into my room, and you didn't refuse. You were fully aware of the potential consequences."

A blush crept up Alice's cheeks, a burning reminder of her actions. She admitted to herself that the alcohol had made her bold, but he was right-she had been aware enough to refuse if she truly didn't want to go. Yet, she hadn't. This realization filled her with a profound sense of shame.

"Everything that transpired last night was consensual. There was no manipulation, no promises of a relationship," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Mhm."

"You were so assertive, I assumed you were experienced. I didn't think I needed to take responsibility for your 'first time.' You misled me," he accused, absolving himself of any guilt.

Tears welled up in Alice's eyes as she bit her lip, struggling to keep her emotions in check. A painful lump formed in her throat as she retorted, "When you said you didn't want a relationship, did you mean just with me? Do you think I'm not good enough?"

Phillip didn't respond directly. Instead, he asked, "What do your parents do?"

"...My dad's a truck driver, and my mom's a homemaker."

"That figures. My dad's an executive, and my mom's a university finance professor. They have high expectations for anyone I bring home. Flings are one thing, but relationships are another; they're about matching social status. You understand.

"This project will last at least two years. We'll cross paths often, and rumors won't reflect well on either of us. Let's keep last night between us. And keep your friend in check, too. No more disruptions."

Alice lifted her tear-streaked face. "Are you referring to Layla? She came to see you last night?"

"Yes, she was banging on my door in the middle of the night, berating me. What business is this of hers to be so concerned?" Phillip scoffed.

"We're adults; don't be a sore loser. Making a scene like that is embarrassing."

With those final words, Phillip turned and walked away. Alice remained rooted to the spot, her pale complexion a stark contrast to the redness of her eyes.

"Ding-" The elevator doors opened, and Layla stepped out. "Alice, what happened?"

"Are you okay? He-" Layla reached out, but Alice slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch me."

"You went to see Phillip last night, didn't you?" Alice accused, her eyes blazing with anger.

"You had blood on your dress, and when you wouldn't tell me what happened, I panicked..."

"I didn't ask for your interference. Haven't I been humiliated enough?" Alice retorted, her demeanor akin to a cornered animal. "This is my business, I didn't need you to defend me!"

Her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

"I'm sorry, I was just really worried..."

But Alice wasn't interested in hearing her apologies; she turned on her heel and fled.

Layla stood there, a picture of helplessness. Had she really done the wrong thing?

"Layla."

Mr. Smith's voice echoed from behind her. She chose to ignore it and hurried away.

"Wait up." Mr. Smith caught up to her, his demeanor relaxed. "What's wrong? Are you still upset?"

"Not at all," Layla responded, her tone icy.

"You're still young, with a bit of a temper," Mr. Smith shook his head. "I had too much to drink last night, said things I shouldn't have. Don't take it to heart."

Layla was acutely aware that his supposed inebriation was nothing more than a convenient pretense. She decided to let it slide silently, unwilling to confront him directly.

"I must take my leave. Our meeting is imminent," he announced.

"Rest assured, I won't delay you. Layla, I hold you in high regard. However, if I desired the company of a young woman, it would be effortlessly achieved without any coercion. If you're not interested, there are no hard feelings. Let's just let it be, shall we?" he proposed.

Layla chose to remain silent.

"Ah, I knew you were a sensible girl," Mr. Smith commented, patting her shoulder.

She recoiled from his touch instantly.

A smug, middle-aged grin spread across Mr. Smith's face, "So sensitive, surely you're not still untouched?"

A frown creased Layla's face, a sense of revulsion seeping in.

"Just a jest, don't be so tense," he dismissed, ignoring her discomfort and reaching to tousle her hair.

"Not everyone appreciates that brand of 'humor,'" Layla retorted, swatting his hand away. She turned her head to find Gioanna smirking coldly in her direction.

Following the distasteful encounter, Layla retreated to the sanctuary of her apartment for the night. Before succumbing to sleep, she initiated a video call with Samuel.

"You seem rather low today," Samuel noted, the backdrop of his office skyscraper view visible behind him as he busied himself with paperwork, stealing glances at her intermittently.

"It's nothing, probably just fatigue from the past few days' activities," she replied, propped up on her bed, chin resting in her hand, her gaze fixed on the screen.

"Exhausted from having a good time?" he teased. "Want to trade places?"

"Work can sometimes be more relaxing," Layla sighed. Crafting designs felt far less taxing than navigating human interactions.

She glanced at the chat window again. The five messages she'd dispatched to Alice remained unanswered. Alice's typically nonchalant demeanor made this silence all the more alarming. Was she genuinely upset?

Did I truly err?

Samuel closed his files, his gaze fixed on her, "What transpired?"

"It's just... I had a disagreement with Alice."

"That's par for the course, isn't it?" Samuel chuckled. "Friendships are the most intricate relationships - an endless cycle of bickering and making amends."

"But Alice and I aren't like that, we're not petty. We've never had a falling out before. It might be my fault - even with a good relationship, I shouldn't interfere in her romantic affairs." Layla sighed, "Why are you shaking your head?"

"I'm envious."

"Envious? Of what?"

"You seem to care more about her than you do about me, hence the jealousy."

Layla offered a bittersweet smile, "I'm already feeling low, there's no need to rub salt in the wound."

"Alright, alright, send me a virtual kiss. Cheer up and get some rest, okay?"

"And what about you?" she inquired nonchalantly.

"Are you starting to show concern for your fiancé who's been pulling eighteen-hour shifts?" There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Has it been that long?"

"Do you think I'm rushing back for any other reason?" Samuel had been cramming a week's worth of work into three days, barely catching a glimpse of his bed.

"You're pushing yourself too hard. I want to see you too, but not at the expense of your health. Please, don't overdo it, okay? I'll be waiting right here at home for you," she implored, her voice laced with worry.

Her words only intensified Samuel's eagerness to return to her, each minute and second precious, but he nodded and assured, "Alright, I'll take it easy."

...

The following morning, Layla stepped into the Eilish Group lobby, a breakfast for two in her hands.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, she felt the weight of numerous eyes upon her. The lobby seemed to hum with whispers about her.