After the Affair Falling into a Billionaire's Arms novel Chapter 5

**Clocks Lie To Hearts** by Asa River Flint

“Don’t worry about it,” George said, his hand gently covering Louisa’s glass as if to shield her from the impending pressure. “I’ll take care of Ms. Forbes’s drink as well.”

“Mr. Capulet, your generosity knows no bounds,” David remarked, a playful grin spreading across his face, though there was an edge of tension lingering in the air.

“Indeed, Mr. Capulet,” another colleague interjected, raising an eyebrow. “You’re drinking for both your assistant and your secretary. Isn’t that a tad excessive?”

Despite their lower rank compared to George, they represented the Taylor Group, and they were not about to let the company’s reputation suffer due to George’s apparent disregard for decorum.

In a business setting, George’s behavior was nothing short of a slight against the very essence of professionalism that the Taylor Group upheld.

They were justified in their stance—there was no reason to feel intimidated.

“Exactly,” the third colleague added, crossing his arms. “If you drink for everyone at this table, how can we possibly move forward? Let’s make it simple—choose one person to drink for, not both. What do you think?”

Before the man could finish his thought, a chilling transformation swept over George’s countenance, his eyes narrowing in a way that sent a wave of unease through the room.

Silence enveloped the private dining area, thick enough to be cut with a knife.

Louisa remained silent, her heart racing. She understood that if George insisted on protecting her from the drinking, the representatives of the Taylor Group would likely relent. The worst-case scenario would be a failure to finalize the contract, but she was curious to see how George would navigate this precarious situation.

At that moment, Vivian turned her gaze toward him, her eyes shimmering with a mix of hope and apprehension. “George, I really don’t want to drink,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

As she spoke, she intertwined her fingers with his beneath the table, seeking comfort.

He responded with a gentle squeeze, his eyes conveying a silent message: Don’t stir the pot.

To the others at the table, this subtle exchange appeared intimate, perhaps even affectionate.

The men shared knowing glances, smirks playing on their lips. “It seems your choice is already made,” one of them chuckled, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken implications.

George couldn’t shake the thought that Vivian, having been coddled throughout her life, wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure of such a situation.

Louisa, on the other hand, was a seasoned professional, adept at managing even the most challenging clients. No matter how difficult the circumstances, she always found a way to navigate through them.

Today, however, he felt compelled to let her take the lead.

He would find a way to make it up to her later, he promised himself, though he had no idea of the serious condition Louisa was battling. The thought of alcohol coursing through her veins terrified him; it could trigger a dangerous reaction, one that could lead to catastrophic consequences for her health.

She bit her lip, suppressing her feelings as a bitter smile crept onto her face, a silent acknowledgment of her pain.

Louisa met his gaze briefly before turning her attention back to David, her demeanor calm and composed. “So, Mr. Foster, how much more ‘salt’ do you think would be appropriate? Perhaps a specific percentage?”

She played along with David’s metaphor, probing for his limits, her heart racing with the stakes of the conversation.

The only one at the table who remained oblivious to their coded dialogue was Vivian.

She leaned closer to George, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “George, is Ms. Forbes really that clueless? How can salt be measured in percentages?”

George chose silence, his eyes narrowing as he shot Louisa a dark look, a mix of frustration and concern swirling within him.

Louisa, undeterred, continued to engage with David.

David, catching her question, beamed with delight. “Twenty percent more should do the trick,” he replied, his confidence unwavering.

Louisa nodded, her smile steady. “Twenty percent is certainly within reach.”

The moment the words left her lips, the atmosphere shifted palpably, tension crackling in the air.

George shot her a fierce glare, his frustration palpable. He had made his stance abundantly clear—what was she doing?