Chapter 83 All Because of Nathan
A twitch pulsed at Samuel's temple, his complexion turning a shade greener. "Because of Nathan?"
Silence.
What did this have to do with Nathan? He was nothing but an unreasonable brute!
But Layla, hot-headed and without clarification, glared at him and scoffed. "Yes, all because of Nathan."
Let him misunderstand; let him think of her as a fickle, bad woman—it would spare her from his relentless grip.
"So, all that talk about your career, your dreams—it was just a front for him?"
"That's right. How can I be with Nathan if I don't terminate the pregnancy?" Layla snidely laughed, just to provoke him.
Samuel sneered malevolently. "So, this is the cruel woman you are." Before, she had claimed it was nothing to do with Nathan. He had trusted her and believed that she was his and his alone.
"Do you think Nathan would want a woman who's had an abortion?"
Layla darkened. "He won't know."
"You're deceiving yourself!"
"Layla, it seems I've underestimated you. Carrying my child and sneaking around with another man—you really have some nerve."
His face grew stormy, each word grated through clenched teeth.
"I'm not your woman, and I'm going to get rid of the child. What's wrong with being with a man I actually like? Samuel, you're the one who's been badgering me—I've always rejected you. So, what right do you have to accuse me of cheating? Not everyone is like you—engaged, yet still hounding other women."
He had denied the existence of a fiancée a thousand times. Why couldn't she understand?
Yet Samuel didn't explode with anger; he simply chuckled darkly. "Yes, that's what I like."
Was he admitting it?
Layla turned ashen.
She didn't understand herself. She knew the kind of man he was, so why, when he confessed, did she feel such heartache and disappointment?
Had she believed his previous explanations?
Impossible. She wasn't that foolish.
"But listen well, even if I did have a fiancée, I’m claiming the child you're carrying." Samuel suddenly gripped her chin. "If you dare be with another man while carrying my child, I won't let you off easily. Don't dig your own grave!"
He left her with a warning glare before striding into the apartment building.
Layla's body slackened, nearly collapsing in a heap. Her back was already soaked in cold sweat.
Despair shrouded her heart.
With such a man as the father, any child born would suffer. She couldn't bear it.
She had to harden her heart, she must—at the right time.
Ding!
Fifteenth floor.
The elevator doors had just swung open.
"Mr. Holland, you're back." Jennie, clad in a slinky, seductive nightgown, sauntered up to greet him, but Samuel didn't even glance her way as he slammed the door shut in her face.
"Thud—" Jennie was left standing outside, utterly deflated. She had splurged over ten thousand dollars on that nightgown, and he hadn't given it so much as a look.
Samuel tossed his suit jacket onto the couch, yanked his tie off with ferocity, and poured himself a whiskey. He gulped it down, feeling the burn blaze down his throat and the anger in his chest flare hotter, suffocating him from the inside.
This level of rage was new to him.
Over and over, his mind replayed the scene of Nathan embracing Layla in the car. Before she got out, Nathan had held onto her hand, muttering some stupid cheesy line, judging by her bashful response.
Fond of Nathan, aren't you?
Made sense, he was her celebrity crush. These days, didn't every woman dream of a fling with their idol? Perhaps he should be congratulating her for making her dreams come true.
Without his pull, she wouldn't have stood a chance at getting into Holland Group—what a pipedream that would've been!
He had brought her in to work not to flirt with every Tom, Dick, and Harry.
If she was going to play that game, she should understand that he was the only game in town. No other men would do.
The more Samuel stewed, the more he drank—nearly half the bottle. But he'd never admit to being jealous, not over some clueless girl.
His phone lit up. It was a call from Joseph, but Samuel kept drinking, ignoring it completely.
It wasn't long before the screen brightened again, and in irritation, he picked up. The chaotic noise of a bar spilled over the line.
"I'm at 'M Bar'. Get over here; there are some hot chicks."
Samuel wasn't in the mood for women, not now, not ever.
"Buzz off," he said and hung up.
The image from the car haunted him, churning his stomach like a frantic sea.
Next door, Layla was equally frustrated, pummeling her pillow furiously.
...
The next morning, Layla, with dark circles under her eyes, had just started her day.
"Morning, Layla!" Jennie was waiting at Samuel’s doorstep again.
Layla was speechless. Even knowing Samuel's lousy reputation, why would Jennie still...?
Well, he did have power and influence; even if he was the devil, women would flock to him.
But she wouldn't be one of them.
"Mornin'," Layla mumbled, her mind foggy and spiritless.
"Rough night?"
"Yeah."
"You need to find yourself a boyfriend, snuggle up, and you'll sleep sweet as sugar. Want me to set you up with some eligible bachelors? They’re good-looking too."
Just as Layla pondered Jennie's words, Samuel stepped out and his ears caught the last bit of their exchange.
Last night, she was clinging to Nathan, and today, she was asking Jennie to set her up with some high-profile catch? She must be dreaming.
Samuel shot Layla a frosty glance, and she defensively turned her face away, stepping into the elevator.
"Mr. Holland..." Jennie's enthusiasm was once again doused with cold water as Samuel gave her no more than a glancing look, his face set in stone.
Jennie felt a twinge of self-doubt. She was attractive and had a great figure, but could it be possible that he found her 27 years a bit too seasoned?
Intimidated by the chill rolling off him, Jennie clamped her mouth shut and took a stance beside Layla.
A heavy silence filled the elevator, oppressive like a brewing storm, stifling everyone inside.
Upon exiting, each person unconsciously rubbed their arms for warmth.
Samuel, eyes fixed ahead, got into his car without a sideways glance.
"Mr. Holland looked grim today; he nearly froze me to death," Jennie remarked, sticking out her tongue.
"When does he ever look cheerful? Isn't he always sporting that scowl?" Layla pointed out.
"You're pretty bold, you know. The boss' cold vibe is actually kind of hot and captivating, but it does sting a bit. I've been laying it on thick these past few days, and he hasn't budged an inch," Jennie confessed, clearly disheartened.
"You're barking up the wrong tree. I honestly don't see what's so great about him. Don't let his looks blind you. Character matters more," Layla said.
Jennie blinked, "But Mr. Holland is a good guy."
"Good guy? He's engaged and still flirting with you... where's the good in that?"
"Flirting with me? You've got it all wrong. There's nothing going on between the boss and me."
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