Chapter 110 Caught Again
How could Layla ignore an assignment from the higher-ups?
She had her own plans too. If she could use this gig to get out of Nora's project, that would be a bonus.
The villa was located three hours from downtown.
Layla caught two buses, and by the time she got off, there were no more running, thus, she had to hail a cab.
Unbeknownst to her, Mr. Vandella’s sleek sedan had been trailing her the whole time.
Mr. Vandella kept his distance but then, out of nowhere, a van barreled into the intersection. He slammed on his brakes, but it was too late. The collision sent a deafening "Bang!" through the air, and his airbag deployed, knocking him out cold for a few minutes. When Mr. Vandella came to, his car was engulfed in thick smoke.
Coughing, he managed to get out of the car and staggered over to check the van - it was empty.
Panic set in. He quickly grabbed his phone, "Boss, I think Miss Adkins might be in trouble."
...
Layla had left her apartment at one in the afternoon, and it was already four by the time she arrived at the mansion.
In three hours time, she could have easily toured the next city over.
Perched at the peak, the mansion's imposing grandeur was like a castle, a breath-taking marvel.
But Layla's overwhelming sensation was one of fatigue from the strenuous journey.
Despite the company providing a car service, the frequent long trips were exhausting, with most of her time spent on the road.
Two rows of bodyguards clad in black suits and sunglasses stood at the entrance, leading Layla to wonder if the homeowner had ties to organized crime.
"Miss Adkins, the designer, I presume?" A man dressed in a butler's uniform stepped forward, "My name is Henry."
"Hello."
Layla shook his hand and followed him inside, where the butler invited her to take a seat on the sofa.
She looked around; the villa was newly furnished with gleaming, sophisticated decor, clearly the work of a top-notch designer. Why did it need a redo? Was the owner just burning money? Predicting the whims of the wealthy was always a tough game.
A staff member brought her a cup of tea.
It was served in a beautifully crafted, expensive teacup.
Layla took a sip - black tea, not something she was particularly fond of.
"Why does this villa need redecoration? It seems quite new," Layla couldn't help but express her confusion.
I'm not sure; the male bodyguard handed over the task to me, and I just follow orders," replied Henry.
Understandable. Layla didn't press further.
"What style does the male bodyguard prefer?" she inquired.
"That would be up to you."
Layla was taken aback. Even when clients don't give detailed instructions, they usually share their preferences to guide the designer in a certain direction. It was rare for someone to give the designer full rein. Were they really planning a renovation?
This raised even more questions in her mind.
"So about how much would the renovation cost?"
After delving deeper and calculating for about fifteen minutes, Layla estimated, 'Around four million dollars. "Four million? That's it?" The butler poured her a glass of tea, "How about we make it five million instead?"
This was the first time Layla had come across someone volunteering to raise the price. She shook her head. "Considering the luxury renovations, four million should be more than enough; there might even be some left over."
"Then let's settle on five million."
Layla frowned.
A cunning glint appeared in Henry's eyes as he explained, 'Our guys, often abroad on business, are too busy for details. I just give them a number. As for the extra million, how about we split it 50-50?
Seeing her frown deepen, Henry chuckled. "Miss Adkins, you're still green, might be your first time dealing with this, but you'll get used to it. A designer handling a big project often encounters ample 'gray-area' income."
"You can rest assured, my employer won't notice the difference between four and five million. He's quite wealthy and trusts me implicitly; there's no way he'd suspect a thing. You have my word."
A wry smile formed on Layla's lips. "If your employer trusts you that much, shouldn't you honor that trust instead of exploiting it for your own financial gain?" Like a leech.
Although inexperienced, Layla knew too well that many people engaged in such dubious acts. She wasn't about to deliver a righteous lecture, but she certainly wouldn't stoop to their level.
"Miss Adkins, you're just too naive, inexperienced."
"A designer's ethical standards aren't tied to her age or experience. I don't know how you've worked with others in the past, but with me, four million is four million – no false reporting, not a penny more. If that's not the kind of partner you're looking for, then you're talking to the wrong person." Layla stood up to leave.
"What, is my offer too low for you? How about if I give you seven hundred thousand and keep three hundred thousand for myself? Does that sound fair?"
Layla shook her head again. "It's not about the money; it's about a person's conscience and professional ethics. If our principles don't align, then it's best we part ways. Goodbye."
"Miss Adkins, please wait."
"No amount of convincing will work on me. Even if you handed me all the money, I wouldn't work with you." Layla's tone was final, unwilling to waste more words.
"Miss Adkins, you have just passed our test."
"Test?" Layla paused mid-step and turned around, her eyebrows knit together. "Are you saying this was a setup by your employer?"
"That's right."
Layla scoffed. "Your employer sure is suspicious.” Nobody appreciates being tested like this.
"Sorry, I was just following instructions. Miss Adkins, please come with me."
She hesitated for a moment but figured since she was already there, she might as well see this through. Following the butler upstairs.
Flanking the doorway of the room stood two bodyguards—one to the left, one to the right.
Who in the world needed such heavy protection? Layla's suspicions grew; she was almost convinced the man inside was involved with the underworld. She was extra cautious, not wanting to get mixed up with shady characters.
"Come in," the butler said, opening the door.
Layla stepped inside.
The room showcased a 360° panoramic view of the ocean, and there he was—a man seated in an executive chair, his back to her. Monitors on his desk revealed the living room; he'd been watching her approach on the screens. Layla felt a twinge of annoyance.
He clapped his hands slowly, 'It's rare these days to find someone who can resist the lure of money..." The man turned around, a wild grin on his face.
Layla's heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man dressed only in a bathrobe and boxer shorts, lounging casually with one leg propped over the other. His tall, well-exercised body was lean and muscular, every sinew defined like those of a graceful panther, exuding a sense of coiled, ready danger.
His gaze was sinister, roaming over her with unrestricted audacity, predatory like a wolf eyeing its prey.
Suddenly, Layla thought of Samuel.
Their profiles bore some resemblance, but the aura between them couldn't be more different. Samuel was a cold, bone-chilling presence, whereas this man before her laughed with a dangerous edge, a spine-tingling chuckle that betrayed his dark true nature.
Yes, a viper.
That's what he reminded her of.
One bite and his venom would work quickly, relentlessly.
A sense of peril made her glance back; the door was shut tight, leaving just the two of them alone in the room.
Jovan stood, his bare feet hitting the floor as he closed the distance between them gracefully, "Miss Adkins, we finally meet."
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