Gareth emerged from his bathroom break, realizing he had two options: find a different entrance or navigate the crowd to get back inside.
And then there was this woman taking it upon herself to block the entrance aisle.
Seriously, the nerve!
Rochelle's face turned beet red—not because she was shy, but because she felt utterly mortified.
She wished she could melt into the floor as she revisited her fleeting fantasies from a moment ago.
She lowered her head in a feeble attempt to hide her awkwardness and mumbled, "Sorry," before stepping aside.
Gareth didn't utter a word, but the disdain in his eyes cut like a knife.
Rochelle watched as he made a beeline straight for Elisa.
Even though Elisa wasn't even interacting with him, he stood by her side, silent as a statue.
Seeing that, Rochelle couldn't help but tighten her grip on her wine glass, her eyes smoldering with frustration.
Perhaps her intense resentment was written all over her face, and it traveled across the room; somehow, Paul managed to catch that vibe.
By the time Rochelle shook off her daze, Paul was shooting daggers at her, his gaze a mix of probing and anger.
Rochelle cursed silently, swiftly averting her gaze.
However, Paul had no intention of letting her off the hook that easily.
He smiled at a few company bigwigs, excused himself, red wine glass in hand, and headed for Rochelle.
Once he got near, he groped her, causing Rochelle to let out a shocked exclamation.
Paul's expression stayed unchanged; he chuckled and remarked, "You sly little thing just can't keep your hands to yourself when I'm away. Am I not satisfying enough for your appetite?"
Rochelle acted coyly, quickly shaking her head before nodding in agreement.
She hurriedly explained, "Mr. Mazel is so powerful as a bulldozer."
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