Chapter 33
"Emily."
Michael Thompson quickened his pace to catch up outside the store, grasping her slender wrist. She had been walking so fast she nearly collided with his chest.
"Are you angry?" He tilted his head to study her face.
Emily Smith shook her head, her hair swaying lightly. "No."
Michael smiled and ruffled her hair. "Good." He paused. "But... did you know Vice President Johnson before?"
"Yes," she replied softly. "He was my cousin's classmate. We met before I joined the company."
"I see." Understanding dawned on his face as he took her hand. "Still want to keep shopping?"
Emily hesitated briefly. "Let's walk a little more."
Inside the Hermès boutique, William Johnson snapped his lighter shut with a sharp click. Through the glass window, the sight of the two figures standing so close made his jaw tighten.
He had arranged this business trip specifically for her, and this was how she repaid him—
His tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, his gaze darkening.
By the time they returned to the hotel, it was late at night. As Emily and Michael waited for the elevator in the lobby, a sudden commotion broke out.
At the center of the crowd, William had his arm wrapped around the slender waist of Mia Harris, guiding her toward the private elevator reserved for the presidential suite.
"What a coincidence. Vice President Johnson is staying here too," Michael remarked casually as the elevator doors closed.
Emily pressed her lips together, silent.
When they reached their floor, Michael reminded her, "Seven-thirty tomorrow morning. Meet me at the restaurant."
"Okay. Goodnight," she nodded.
The moment her door shut, Emily leaned against it and exhaled heavily. The image of William with his arm around Mia flashed through her mind, and she gave a bitter, self-deprecating smile.
Fifty thousand dollars—worth less than a Hermès bag.
His pity meant nothing.
The sound of running water filled the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, Emily had just stepped out when the door beeped—
William strode in.
"Ah!" She gasped, then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.
The man leaned lazily against the wall, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He crooked a finger. "Come here."
Emily shook her head, backing away until her legs hit the edge of the bed, sending her tumbling onto it.
William chuckled, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt as he advanced. She scrambled backward, but he pinned her down effortlessly.
His tie wound around her delicate wrists, binding them to the headboard in seconds.
"William, you—"
Before she could finish, his lips crashed down on hers.
"What else would I want from you?" he murmured against her ear, his scorching breath making her shiver.
Emily struggled desperately, but his grip was unyielding.
"I'll scream!" she threatened, her voice trembling.
"Go ahead," he taunted, nipping at her earlobe.
The doorbell rang.
"Ding-dong—"
"Emily?" Michael's voice came through the door. "Are you okay?"
She froze. "I—I'm fine! Room service just dropped something off... I'm about to shower!"
"Call me if you need anything." His footsteps faded away.
William smirked, tracing a finger over her quivering lips. "Shall we continue?"