Chapter 40
"John, don't push it!" Chloe snapped. "You think we're blind? We can see you're picking on her. She's already down to her camisole. What more do you want?"
John shrugged, looking confused. "I won, so she has to strip. What's the big deal? You can strip for her if you want!"
The club was warm, so Chloe was just in a long camisole dress. No way was she going to embarrass herself to help Mandy.
"Let's call it a night. It's late," Michael cut in, walking over and draping a coat over Mandy. Before John could say anything, Michael added calmly, "I'll have the finance department transfer thirty million dollars to your company's account by tomorrow morning. The Smith Group will back out of the Inspire Group acquisition, and I'll have someone help your company take over Inspire Group."
John had already enjoyed Mandy's discomfort, and with Michael's offer, he decided to let it go. "When Rachel was ten, even her dad couldn't beat her at cards, let alone me," John said, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray and standing up slowly. "Think about the games you played with her. Did you really win, or did she just let you?"
As he passed by Michael, John glanced at him and smirked. "She really doesn't want you. Ten Mandys wouldn't be a match for her."
Michael thought back to Rachel's calm demeanor when she was getting her tattoo removed, and his face darkened. 'So Rachel can play cards.'
Rachel and Ella had some snacks in the private room and sang a few songs before John came back.
Ella quickly went over to ask what happened. When she found out Mandy had almost ended up naked, she was quite pleased.
She snorted, "If it weren't for Mr. Smith, she probably would have walked out of the club stark naked tonight!"
"Exactly!" John laughed. "That's what you call payback with interest! Whatever she did to Rachel, I'm going to do worse to her!"
"Thanks," Rachel said with a smile, clinking her glass with his.
John didn't ask why Rachel let Mandy and the others bully her earlier. He just reached out, pulled her into his arms, and teased, "We've slept in the same bed for so long. Do we still need to say thanks?"
Ella looked over at them, eyes wide. "Really?"
"Of course it's true..."
Before John could finish, Rachel interrupted, "Keep tarnishing my reputation, and I'll hit you!" She kicked him playfully and explained to Ella, "When we were kids, his parents were never home, so he would come to my house to eat and sleep without paying. Isn't that outrageous?"
Ella immediately looked disgusted. "So John is the shameless one."
As they joked around, they didn't notice a small bug taped under the table, recording their conversation word for word.
Soon, John's friends arrived one after another, filling the large private room with lively chatter and laughter.
Rachel didn't like the noise and wasn't in a good mood. She initially sat in a corner drinking but later joined in when she saw how much fun John and the others were having with their drinking games.
Even when she lost, she was happy, downing glass after glass of wine.
After a few rounds, she was feeling dizzy. "I need some fresh air. Excuse me," Rachel said to John as she left the private room.
Rachel intended to get some fresh air on the balcony, but the cold wind hit her as soon as she stepped out, making her stomach churn from all the drinking. She covered her mouth and hurried to the restroom.
After throwing up, Rachel felt a lot better. She splashed cold water on her face and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She looked a mess and felt pitiful. She hoped tonight's drinking binge would be the last one.
Rachel left the restroom and headed toward the open-air balcony. A waiter happened to be passing by with a tray.
Seeing Rachel's flushed cheeks, the waiter handed her a bottle of mineral water from the tray. "Ma'am, drink some water. It'll help."
"Thank you," Rachel said, taking the bottle and drinking a few sips.
Suddenly, a hand squeezed her butt, and a raspy voice breathed in her ear, "Nice body, babe."
"Let go!" Rachel said angrily, trying to crush his hand.
But she had just thrown up and was weak, her head spinning. The man easily pulled her toward the elevator. "Don't worry, I have money. Name your price," the man laughed.
Rachel felt her body go limp, her vision blurring as she struggled to keep her senses sharp. Biting her tongue to stay conscious, she stomped her high heel hard on the man's foot. As he reeled back in pain, his grip loosened, and she stumbled away, using the wall for support. She hadn't made it far when she felt a sharp yank on her hair, pulling her back.
"I said I'd pay you, and you still refuse," the man snarled, his breath hot and foul against her ear.
Just then, a hand shot out from the side, clamping down on the man's wrist with a vice-like grip. The man winced and let out a yelp, feeling the bones in his wrist strain under the pressure.
"Who the hell are you? Get off me!" He turned to look, his bravado draining away as he met those piercingly cold eyes. "Mr. Smith," he stammered, visibly trembling.
Michael's gaze darkened as he took in the sight of the man's fingers tangled in Rachel's hair. His jaw clenched, and he tightened his grip until the man's wrist gave a sickening crack.
"Jason Warren, what business do you have with my ex-wife?" Michael's voice was ice-cold, each word enunciated with deadly calm.
Jason was reduced to a quivering mess, sweat pouring down his face as he stuttered, "I'm sorry, Mr. Smith. I thought she was just another club girl. I didn't know she was your ex-wife."
Michael released him, turning to a nearby waiter. "Mr. Warren is drunk. Get him a ride home—and make sure he sees an ophthalmologist. Clearly, he has a problem with his eyesight."
Jason was too petrified to respond, allowing the waiter to lead him away. Michael's attention shifted back to Rachel, who was still leaning against the wall, her hair a mess and barely able to stand. She must have had way too much to drink.
He remembered what John had mentioned. Striding over, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up, his grip firm but not harsh. "Rachel, what kind of game are you playing here?" His eyes bore into hers, cold and probing. "You deliberately lose at cards, why?"
"Why do you care?" Rachel retorted, trying to shake off his hand, but her head was spinning, and she almost fell into Michael's arms.
Barely managing to stay upright, she looked up at him, her vision swimming. Only those deep, steely eyes remained clear.
Michael's grip tightened momentarily before he released her, his expression inscrutable. "You tell me, Rachel. Why should I care?"
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