Randal froze in place, genuinely believing he had misheard her. His lips parted slightly, absolute disbelief flashing in his eyes. "What did you... say?"
"I said let's go to your place. It's right here, isn't it? Unless it's inconvenient?"
"It's convenient! Unbelievably convenient!" Randal blurted out instantly. His tone failed to mask his raw joy, though he still sounded incredibly anxious. "It's just that I haven't hired a cleaner yet. It's a bit of a mess..."
"Are we going or not?" Willa had already started walking.
Randal quickly caught up, rushing ahead to swing his front door open for her.
Willa brushed past his side and stepped into the apartment. Her gaze swept casually across the room before she spoke in a detached tone. "It really is a mess. I'm surprised Mr. Yates can tolerate living like this."
He awkwardly trailed behind her, his breathing deliberately shallow. His shoulders slumped, completely devoid of his usual domineering billionaire arrogance.
Willa didn't look at him again. She walked straight to the living room sofa and sat down. Her eyes wandered aimlessly around the room, never once settling on him.
Randal stood rigidly in the center of the room, entirely lost. He desperately wanted to close the distance but didn't dare step forward. Remaining a few feet away, he mumbled softly, "I... I'll go make you some coffee."
The moment he turned around, Willa spoke. "Randal, stay where you are."
The man halted instantly, standing obediently in his tracks. Even the way he looked back over his shoulder was timid and docile, adopting the posture of a completely submissive subordinate.
Willa slowly rose from the sofa, closing the distance step by step.
She stopped directly in front of him, tilting her chin up. A faint, knowing smile danced on her lips. Her fingertips lightly brushed the rough stubble along his jawline. Her tone was languid and deeply seductive, but her words were brutally chilling.
"Randal, did you actually think I'd be grateful to you for taking all the heat online?"



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