No More Waiting, She Chooses Love novel Chapter 660

I took just one step before stopping, Deborah's words echoing in my ears. She had discovered someone's secret. Could it be the figure I saw? If so, was he involved in the Clark family's shady dealings? Considering my parents' deaths were a result of a joint effort between them, I shouldn't be surprised anymore.

Anger surged within me, so much so that I didn't notice someone approaching until Allen's voice broke through, “Lost looking for the restroom?”

Snapping back to reality, I muttered, “It's that time of the month, need to grab some essentials.” His laughter wasn't exactly respectful, “What a coincidence, I'll have someone send them over.” True to his word, a waitress brought me sanitary pads, leaving me no choice but to play along and head to the restroom.

Returning to the room, the male models Allen had arranged were waiting. Each one was a perfect six feet tall, with broad shoulders, narrow waists, and long legs, all impeccably groomed and exceedingly polite. They all bowed in unison upon seeing me.

"These guys are professionally trained. They're sure to meet your standards." Allen boasted. Nodding, I responded, “I see, Sapphire Lounge truly is full of surprises.” It was a double entendre, a test to gauge his reaction.

Allen looked at me with a playful gaze, “So, you're satisfied?” “Absolutely. I'll give you a call a day in advance when I need them, just ensure they show up,” I said convincingly. “Ms. Hudson, you can count on it,” Allen assured.

My mind, however, was still on that shadowy figure from earlier. So, I decided to use the night to dig deeper, “Mr. Clark, if there's nothing else, I'd like to spend some time alone with a drink.” Allen got the hint, leaving with, “Ms. Hudson, tonight's expenses are on me.” He left me with a young man to pour my drinks.

I started drinking for real, but not without taking an antidote James had given me, claiming it would keep me sober through a bottle of vodka. The imported liquor Allen provided went down smoothly, a substantial quantity for any regular woman. Feigning drunkenness, I flirted with the young bartender before pushing him away, “Stay back, I'm not into you. I like a man named Ernest. I... I should call him... ask him to pick me up...”