Chapter 239 What's the Use of Pretending to be an Innocent Girl?
"Are all girls this shameless now?" The woman clinging to Francis laughed.
She worked as a barmaid at the Twilight Lounge. Before entering the private room tonight, the manager had warned them that these were Northfield's big shots, and they couldn't afford any mistakes.
The moment she walked in, she zeroed in on the most handsome and imposing man in the center, Francis.
But Francis was too aloof, and none of the women could get close. She had thought she had no chance, but luck turned around. She was the last to leave tonight, and Francis called her to go out with him. She couldn't let this opportunity slip.
The woman laughed, "Hey, back off. Mr. Getty asked for me first. Wait for your turn next time."
Seeing Harper's plain face and innocent look, she assumed Harper was a college student looking for a sugar daddy.
She felt disdain. These girls nowadays weren't any better than them.
Francis's eyes narrowed, holding back the urge to help Harper up.
He hadn't used much force, so how did she fall? He paused, his eyes showing a mix of emotions.
Victor quickly knelt to help Harper up.
It wasn't that Harper was too delicate to get up, but standing in the cold night had made her legs numb.
With Victor's help, Harper stood up and quickly looked at Francis, saying, "I'm here for Molly. I need your help."
Harper ignored the woman's mockery. Pride could wait; Molly's situation was more important.
"I'm busy," Francis coldly rejected her, leaving no room for negotiation.
Francis had heard Harper's call to Victor that night. Only when she had no other options did she think of him. Harper was really good at torturing him.
With that, Francis turned and got into the car with the woman.
Seeing his heartlessness, Harper's heart clenched.
But she couldn't give up. The thought of Molly possibly suffering in the police station made her restless.
She chased after the car, her voice hoarse, pleading, "Francis, please let me see Robert. Just one meeting."
Francis squinted, his tone mocking, "What kind of relationship do we have that makes you turn to me for help?"
It sounded more like a reminder of what he had said about not caring for her anymore.
Harper's face turned pale. "Francis, I know you're angry, but this is urgent. I have no other choice. I'm begging you."
Francis chuckled lightly, "Does it have anything to do with me?"
With that, he got into the car and left without looking back.
Harper stood there, stunned. Her heart felt as cold as the freezing wind.
The feeling of helplessness was almost unbearable.
She slowly squatted down and hugged her knees, not wanting anyone to see how sad she was.
Luckily, it was already past one in the morning, and no one was at the entrance of the Twilight Lounge.
Inside the car, Francis was still fuming.
Victor observed through the rearview mirror, hesitated, and asked, "Mr. Getty, should we send a car for her?"
It was dark and cold, and it wasn't safe for Harper to be alone outside.
The woman in the car, slightly drunk, interjected, "Is your assistant a pimp?"
Instantly, Francis's eyes turned cold, and he said in a deep voice, "Stop."
Victor stopped the car and, without waiting for Francis to speak, understood his intention and got out to open the door.
"Ma'am, please get out of the car."
The woman was reluctant. She had finally found such an influential man.
She said coquettishly, "Mr. Getty, what's wrong with your assistant?"
She even leaned towards Francis knowingly.
A fierce look instantly appeared on Francis's face. "Get out!" he said icily.
The woman was so scared that she sobered up and obediently got out of the car.
Of course, her act wasn't in vain; Victor still paid her a few hundred dollars.
Once back in the car, Victor started the engine but didn't drive off immediately. He looked towards the back seat.
"Reverse," Francis ordered.
Harper's legs were numb from squatting, and she was trying to think of another solution.
Suddenly, the black Bentley came back.
The window rolled down, revealing Francis's face in the shadows.
"Get in."
Harper didn't hesitate and hurriedly opened the car door, but her numb legs caused her to stumble and trip over the door frame.
She bit her lip, letting out a small sound as she ended up kneeling at Francis's feet, her hand clutching his suit pants.
This position, combined with Harper's bewildered face, made her look pitiful yet somewhat alluring.
Francis's eyes lowered, deepening, and the atmosphere in the car instantly froze.
Harper felt extremely embarrassed and quickly got up, placing her hands on her lap and sitting tight.
The car drove through the night.
Francis didn't speak, seeming very tired. His hand supported his forehead, and his eyes were closed, resting.
Harper was anxious but didn't want to disturb his rest, so she held back.
Finally, the car stopped, but it was at Harper's apartment.
Francis, eyes still closed, instructed Victor, "Take her upstairs."
Victor responded.
Harper panicked. She hadn't waited all this time just to be sent home.
"Francis," she called out, and Francis lazily opened his eyes to look at her.
Thinking about how many times she had been rejected tonight, Harper impulsively said, "Would you like to come up for a drink?"
Inside the apartment,
Francis had his eyes closed, his shirt sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing his well-defined arms. His long legs were crossed, and he lounged lazily on the sofa.
Harper didn't make coffee but instead went to the kitchen to cook some hangover soup.
Once it was ready, she brought it out and placed it on the table, saying softly, "This will help with your hangover."
There were no chairs by the sofa, so Harper stood. She had taken off her coat and was wearing a soft white sweater and blue jeans that accentuated her waistline, highlighting her shapely figure.
It wasn't a revealing outfit, but it made Francis's throat dry for a few seconds.
He squinted his eyes slightly, raised his hand, and took a sip of the soup.
The steaming hot soup was very warming, and his expression relaxed considerably.
Seeing his improved expression, Harper cautiously spoke, "Can you help me set a meeting with Robert?"
Although he knew her purpose, hearing her say it so bluntly still made him unhappy.
He smirked, picked up his coat, and stood up without a word.
Harper panicked, grabbing his arm and urgently asking, "Are you leaving?"
Francis turned to look at her, his expression indifferent as he said, "I finished the drink."
"And what about..."
Francis frowned, interrupting her, "You think one bowl of soup is enough to make me help you?"
Harper bit her lip. "That's not what I meant."
Francis casually pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and threw it on the table, coldly saying, "I paid."
Harper was stunned, her face turning pale and her eyes reddening.
Seeing this, a surge of anger rose in Francis's heart, making him extremely irritated.
He decided to leave, walking towards the door.
Harper chased after him, tears welling up. "Francis, can't you really help me? I have no other options."
The next second, Francis pulled her forcefully, pressing her against the door, and kissed her intensely.
Francis's eyes were fiercely red, as if he had been holding back for a long time. He kissed her frantically.
Harper's legs went weak as she was unable to withstand it.
His aggressive advances became more intense, his hand slipping under her sweater, pushing aside her bra strap, and kneading her breast.
The sudden stimulation made Harper snap back to reality, her face turning pale. She pushed him away hard.
They separated slightly, and Francis didn't force it, coldly mocking, "Didn't you invite me up here to have sex?"
Harper hurriedly fixed her bra strap, trembling with anger. "When did I say I wanted to have sex with you?"
Her expression was exactly like when she had confronted him for Keith.
A surge of anger flared up in Francis's heart, and he sneered, "Don't you know what it means to invite a man up late at night? You've already invited me, and what's the use of pretending to be an innocent girl?"
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