Everyone in the private room was completely stunned.
No one dared to look directly at Silas Thorne, yet they all wanted to watch the drama unfold.
So they all snuck furtive glances in their direction.
"As expected of Miss Monroe. She's really something else, throwing herself at Mr. Thorne like that."
"I heard her feud with Ina Sutton started over a man. Rumor has it her private life abroad was a mess. Seducing Mr. Thorne in public? She's got some real nerve."
"I've known her for years, and she never seemed like this kind of person."
"You can't judge a book by its cover. After all, she did hire male models."
...
Quentin Walsh coughed twice. He never thought he'd live to see the day he'd get to enjoy some gossip about his own boss.
'Would it be too much if I secretly took a few pictures with my phone?'
"Joyce Monroe." Silas Thorne quickly came to his senses and tried to push her off, but the moment his fingers touched her waist, their strength softened.
Her waist was slender and soft. Through the thin fabric of her clothes, he could clearly feel the heat radiating from her skin.
It was so hot it almost burned his fingertips.
His knuckles trembled and tensed, but he still didn't push her away.
"I don't like what you said!" Joyce Monroe said with a frown, her face full of displeasure.
"What did I say?" Silas Thorne was confused.
"It was your tone."
That commanding tone of voice.
In the world of business, a battlefield where no blood is spilled, a truly gentle and refined man would likely be eaten alive, bones and all. Having long been in a position of power, speaking in an assertive manner had become second nature to him.
"Fine, I'll change it." Silas Thorne took a deep breath and rescued his tie from her grasp. "Now, get off me first."
"You're ordering me around again."
"..."
Silas Thorne felt a headache coming on.
Arguing with a drunk was pointless.
"Do you even know who I am?" Silas Thorne asked.
"You're..."
Joyce Monroe hadn't drunk a huge amount, but she had mixed several types of alcohol and was now completely wasted. All she could see was an endless number of faces swimming before her eyes.
The swaying made her eyes hurt, so she reached out and held his face still.
"Don't move!"
Silas Thorne's body stiffened again.
Her hands...
They were so much hotter than the warmth at her waist.
Cupping his face, the heat from her fingertips seemed to seep into his body, so much so that he could feel his own temperature slowly rising.
The two of them were already extremely close, and Joyce Monroe was leaning against him, not behaving at all.
Step by step,
she was testing his patience and his self-control.
And as she held his face, she seemed to want a clearer look, so she leaned in even closer. A person who's had too much to drink has no sense of proportion...
So close,
that their noses brushed unintentionally.
The air between their breaths was thick with simmering heat.
Silas Thorne's breathing hitched, and the gentleness in his warm eyes was replaced by a boundless darkness.
His Adam's apple bobbed, and his throat suddenly felt dry and hot, as if a spark had fallen into it.
An unnatural flush spread across Joyce Monroe's face. Her beautiful willow-leaf eyes, moist from the alcohol, stared at him damply. Her long dress had been pushed up above her knees, revealing her fair, delicate calves.
Her body was limp and soft, looking as if she might fall at any moment.
Silas Thorne had no choice but to reach out and hold her by the waist.
But Joyce Monroe just smiled and cupped his face.
"You look... a lot like my husband."
She had a classic, delicate beauty, and when she smiled, the corners of her eyes and brows seemed to be tinged with rouge.
Her subtlety blossomed into stunning allure, and even her voice was tinged with a coquettish charm.
Especially that one word, "husband."
Spoken so close, it made his heart begin to pound.
"Stop swaying, you're making my head hurt." Joyce Monroe frowned. Perhaps she really was dizzy from all the movement, because before Silas Thorne could even react, her body went limp and she collapsed right into his arms.
Her little face rested against his shoulder, her scalding breath feeling like a kiss against his ear, burning the shell of it and the side of his neck crimson.
It was too hot.
So hot that the eyes of Silas Thorne, a man who had always prided himself on his self-discipline and propriety, were tinged with red.
It was only because the private room was too dark, and because no one dared to look at him directly, that they failed to see the base of his ears burning as if on fire.
The hand on her waist tightened slightly as he spoke in a low, raspy voice, "Behave."
'Don't move around anymore.'
Silas Thorne pulled off his suit jacket and draped it over her legs before lifting her into his arms princess-style. He glanced at a wide-eyed Lily Kennedy nearby. "She's had too much to drink. I'm taking her with me. Put tonight's bill on my tab."
Quentin Walsh grabbed Joyce Monroe's purse, and before leaving, he smiled at everyone present. "Regarding tonight's events, I trust you all will be discreet."
It sounded like a suggestion, but it felt like a warning.
Lily Kennedy was still in a state of profound shock, unable to process what had happened.
Only after they had disappeared did a huge collective gasp echo through the room.
"Lily, is Mr. Thorne really going to take Joyce home?"
"He wouldn't..."
"Kill her to silence her, would he?!"
"We're done for. Joyce touched his face just now. When he left, his expression was so tense. He must be furious."
Lily Kennedy gave a weak laugh. "Don't worry. We live in a society governed by law. He wouldn't dare kill anyone."
Still, she was worried, so she secretly sent a text to Joyce Monroe's older brother:
[Joyce drank too much and was taken away by Mr. Thorne. I'm a little worried.]
She didn't dare tell him the whole truth, afraid he would find out about the male models. The subtext of her message was:
A man and a woman, alone together. She was worried something would happen.
The reply she received was just one word:
[Ok.]
Lily Kennedy then sent everyone in the room a small cash gift. "Everyone, Joyce drank too much tonight. Please don't spread rumors about what happened."
Everyone smiled and agreed.
They had to give their friend some face, after all.
She sighed.
'Oh, Joyce, this is all I can do to help you.'
'As for the rest...'
'You made your bed, now you have to lie in it.'
**
「Inside the car」
Felix Dalton was driving but kept glancing into the back, shooting looks at Quentin Walsh in the passenger seat.
'What's going on?'
'Weren't we just supposed to be dropping off a gift? How did it turn into...'
'...us leaving with a girl?'
Quentin Walsh just yawned and said nothing.
Felix Dalton had no choice but to ask in a hushed voice, "Mr. Thorne, where are we headed?"
"To the hotel where I'm staying."
"That's... not very appropriate, is it?" Felix Dalton stammered.
"What's not appropriate about it?" Silas Thorne's expression was cold.
"Sir, it's late at night, and you're taking a drunk young woman to a hotel. No matter how you look at it, it's inappropriate. It's immoral! It's illegal!"
"..."
Felix Dalton had been chosen by the old master and had only been with Silas Thorne for half a month. He was still familiarizing himself with the company's business, so he spent most of his time acting as a part-time driver.
This was the first time he had met Joyce Monroe, so naturally, he had no way of knowing about the secret relationship between the two of them.
He was a bit straightforward, but this was...
...too blunt!
Silas Thorne's head throbbed. 'Where on earth did Grandfather find this character to follow me around?'
He had just arrived in Graymoor and was temporarily staying at a hotel some distance from the club. Joyce Monroe's head was resting on his shoulder, and she seemed to be asleep until a phone started ringing. She squinted and began to rummage through her purse.
She pulled out her phone, put it to her ear, and mumbled "Hello?" several times. "Huh? Why aren't you talking? I'm not interested in a loan, and I don't need any fake documents!"
Silas Thorne chuckled. "You haven't answered it yet."
'You didn't even press the answer button. How is the other person supposed to talk?'
Joyce Monroe was so drunk she couldn't manage to slide the answer key. The corner of Silas Thorne's mouth tilted up slightly as he reached over. "Let me help you."
But the moment he saw the caller ID, his eyes darkened, and he hesitated.
'That name...'
'It's her ex-boyfriend!'