Chapter 158

Emily Smith handed the carefully prepared gift to Susan Miller, who waved her hands in refusal.

"If you don't accept it, I won’t dare come back," Emily said with mock seriousness.

Unable to resist, Susan finally took the limited-edition lipstick and teased, "You didn’t come all this way in the middle of the night just to give me a gift, did you?"

"My boss is drunk," Emily replied with a faint smile.

Susan raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Oh? Your boss?"

"He really is just my boss," Emily emphasized.

As they spoke, someone came to fetch Susan for work matters. Politely declining company, Emily headed alone to the fifth-floor VIP private room.

Just as she reached the door, it suddenly swung open from inside.

"Right on time," George Taylor said, stepping out with his phone in hand. His eyes brightened when he saw Emily.

Inside the room, William Johnson’s lashes fluttered slightly as he rested with his eyes closed.

"Mr. Taylor," Emily greeted with a polite nod.

Ethan Zheng and another man warmly ushered her inside. Five hostesses sat far in the corner, keeping their distance from William.

"No idea what got into him today—drank like there’s no tomorrow," George said, draping an arm over Emily’s shoulder and guiding her toward William.

Emily eyed the man sprawled on the couch and said bluntly, "Help me lift him."

At 6'2", William was too much for her petite frame. George cheerfully obliged, and together they hauled him into the elevator.

The moment the doors closed, William slumped heavily against Emily. By the time they reached the first floor, she was nearly crushed under his weight.

"Switch sides," she gritted out.

George shot a knowing glance at the "completely wasted" man but cooperatively swapped positions. Yet within a few steps, William’s full weight shifted back onto Emily.

Rolling her eyes internally, she stubbornly dragged him out of the club.

"Where’s his car?" she asked.

"Sam’s handling something," George answered quickly before flagging down a taxi.

The second he let go, William toppled onto Emily. She staggered, nearly falling, but suddenly felt a steadying grip at her waist.

When she looked up, William remained "drunkenly" slumped against her, his scorching breath brushing the top of her head.

The taxi pulled up, and George unceremoniously shoved them into the backseat. William promptly rested his head on her shoulder as Emily stared resignedly at the neon lights flashing past outside.

George waved from the curb. "Call if you need anything!"

The window reflected Emily’s utterly defeated expression.