Chapter 206 The Most Sophisticated Hunters Appear as Their Prey
"If you don't want to talk, then don't," said Mark, naively underestimating his opponent, "Let's just keep drinking."
Mark was confident in his own tolerance and was determined to coax something out of this quiet guy before the night was over.
Mark failed to grasp a crucial truth about skilled hunters—they frequently blend in with their prey.
Jesse had set a trap for him right from the start, mentioning a topic he knew Mark couldn't resist and using it to bait his own hunting plan.
Unfortunately, the typically vigilant assistant failed to notice this oversight at that time.
Watching Jesse gradually feign drunkenness, Mark had only one thought: just one more drink should do it.
One more drink.
And another.
And another...
The two proceeded to down their drinks, glass after glass.
Later on, as Mark started to feel a bit light-headed himself and saw Jesse's cheeks flush and his eyes grow blurry, he sensed the moment had come.
He slung his arm over Jesse's shoulder and spoke with earnest care, like brothers sharing a heart-to-heart moment, "Some things you just have to get off your chest to feel better. All the liquor in the world won't help if you keep it bottled up. Tell me, what happened between you two?"
"She likes someone else," Jesse said, his voice muffled and differing in tone from usual, still holding his drink.
Even if Daphne were here, she couldn't tell he was faking it. His expression and speech were incredibly natural, making everyone think he was genuinely drunk.
Mark was puzzled. Why would Jesse act this way?
Taking advantage of his own clarity, he hurriedly asked, "How long have you two been talking?"
Jesse hesitated before shaking his head. It wasn't like him to be chatty, even when tipsy, he should speak less.
Mark interpreted his reaction in various ways, ultimately deducing that Jesse was deeply hurt; otherwise, he wouldn't have dragged him out for a drinking spree.
"That's not right," Mark pondered, "weren't you recently pretending to be a couple with Miss Murphy? Could she have misunderstood something and is now trying to spite you?"
"She doesn't know I like her," Jesse declared, thinking Mark was clueless.
To keep Mark drinking, Jesse gave a gloomy clue with a downcast expression.
Mark thought for a moment, ‘She doesn't know? Could it be…an unrequited love?’
As the idea struck him, Mark gave Jesse another look. It was surprising that the usually reserved and cool guy harbored a secret crush.
But who was it? How come he hadn't heard anything about her?
"Who is she?" Mark felt it was time to get to the heart of the matter.
Jesse paused, glanced at him as if sobered up by the question, and muttered, "Can't tell you."
"You can't... tell me?" Mark's curiosity was tingling.
As he eyed the bottles on the table, he poured another round for them both, "It's okay if you won't tell me. Let's drink first; a good drink can drown all sorrows."
"Sure," Jesse responded faintly.
Mark continued drinking with Jesse to get the answer. A little more drunkenness might loosen Jesse's lips.
Initially, Mark planned to watch Jesse drink while pretending to drink himself, staying sharper than his friend.
But he underestimated Jesse's stubbornness; after drinking, he insisted that Mark follow suit, leading to Mark feeling dizzy and unsteady about ten minutes later.
Observing Mark's state, Jesse knew the time was nearly right.
Mark, supporting himself on Jesse's shoulder, pressed, "I've had so much to drink just to keep you company. I never drank this much even with Charles at social events. Won't you tell me who you fancy?"
"Answer me one question, and I'll tell you," Jesse put down his glass, the previous drunken haze gone. He returned to being that cool, collected character, exuding a clean and comfortable aura.
Mark, disoriented, felt the room spin, "What?"
"What did you talk to Daphne about at her place with Murphy, Charles?" Jesse asked, glancing sideways at Mark's face with intrigue.
Mark instantly released his grip on Jesse's shoulders, his drunken eyes looking both dazed and wary, "Are you trying to trick me into spilling the beans?"
Jesse remained silent.
Was he not drunk yet? That shouldn't be the case, considering Mark's usual alcohol tolerance.
"I'm not going to tell you," Mark rambled on, "Charles said we have to keep it a secret from Miss Murphy, it's confidential!"
"I'm not Daphne; you can tell me," Jesse's voice was cold, yet it gave a sense of security.
Mark, confused, questioned, "Really?"
"Mhm."
"Then I'll tell you, but you can't tell anyone else," Mark said trustingly, "Especially not Miss Murphy."
"Deal," Jesse said, full of strategy.
"Charles made a deal with Murphy," Mark confessed openly, a stark contrast to his daytime persona as Charles's assistant, "He agreed to the terms Murphy wanted, and Murphy promised not to push Miss Murphy into any more arranged marriages or relationships."
Jesse paused. A flicker of emotion stirred in his usually cool eyes.
"Do you think he's a fool?" Mark slurred, complaining as he lay there completely inebriated, "Typical of realizing someone's worth only after losing them. I don't even know what to say about him."
Jesse didn't reply.
If this was the case, should he tell Daphne? What would her reaction be if he did?
"You mustn't let this get out, you hear," Mark suddenly sat up, sharing the secret with a sense of grave importance, "I'm telling this only because you're my best bud. If you let it slip, I could lose my job."
"I could give you money," Jesse offered succinctly.
Both men served as executive assistants. Mark held quite a few shares in the Lancelot Group, earning a high salary with substantial bonuses. Jesse, however, managed the entire Frontier Capital Group, with a ten percent shareholding.
Although Frontier had not been established as long as the Lancelot or the Murphy Groups, they were leading in AI inventions and chip technology.
This prominence afforded them significant stature both domestically and internationally. Many companies wanted to partner with them, to purchase their patents, but Daphne had refused.
If they sold it, her net worth could skyrocket to number one instantly, leaving her with nothing but money.
And money, ironically, was something Daphne wasn't particularly concerned about.
"Anyway, you can't say," Mark replied, moments before succumbing to the effects of too much alcohol.
Jesse glanced at him, eventually settled the bill, and hailed a taxi to take them to a hotel. After checking in, he unceremoniously dumped Mark onto the bed and stood in the spacious, well-appointed room, watching the flushed, sleeping figure. As he pondered whether to inform Daphne about the evening's developments, Mark's phone began to ring.
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