No Sex for Six Years Because of Her? I'm Done novel Chapter 39

**Chapter 39: Dinner With a Client**

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+5 Pearls

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Hannah hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing slightly as she ventured into a topic that had been on her mind. “Mr. Zane,” she began, her voice tinged with shyness, “I think I came across a posting on a job site recently that mentioned your department is looking for an assistant designer?”

A flicker of hope danced in her heart as she continued, “I was actually considering applying, but then I remembered that I didn’t graduate from a prestigious design school, and my professional experience is quite limited. I worry that I might not be good enough to join your team.”

Peter, perceptive as ever, caught the underlying message in her words immediately.

He shook his head with a warm smile, waving his hand as if to dismiss her concerns. “Ms. Gray, you are far too modest! In our department, what truly matters is not just education or years of experience. In the world of fashion design, it’s your innate talent and your unique sense of style that count the most.”

He leaned forward, his enthusiasm palpable. “You have such a remarkable sense of style; it’s clear your taste is exceptional. I wholeheartedly believe you should take a leap of faith and apply.”

Hannah’s heart fluttered at his encouragement, her eyes brightening with possibilities. Yet, she feigned concern, a frown etching her brow. “Really? But if I do land the job, wouldn’t it be because of Ethan? That wouldn’t be fair to you or your team.”

Peter chuckled, patting his chest dramatically. “Not a chance! You strike me as someone with incredible talent. Just bring your portfolio along, and your skills will speak for themselves! Who would dare to gossip then?”

Hannah felt a wave of relief wash over her as she absorbed his words. A smile spread across her face, and she nodded gratefully before stepping into the elevator.

As the doors slid shut, sealing away Peter’s encouraging presence, Hannah’s gentle smile faded, replaced by a steely resolve. She was determined now—this was her chance.

As the day wore on, the atmosphere in the office began to shift. The once-bustling space grew restless, and Amelia found herself rubbing her tired temples, ready to call it a day. Just as she was about to gather her belongings, her phone buzzed at the most inconvenient moment.

It was Beatrice. A sinking feeling settled in Amelia’s stomach.

She walked over to the window, the city skyline stretching out before her, and answered the call. “Hello?”

“Amelia, there’s a dinner tonight. You’re coming with me,” Beatrice commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

Amelia frowned, her initial instinct to resist bubbling to the surface. “I still have work to finish. I can’t go.”

Beatrice’s laughter was sharp, almost mocking. “Work? After being Mrs. Rowe for a few years, have you already forgotten your own last name? Or perhaps you’ve forgotten how you effortlessly stepped into someone else’s shoes and enjoyed years of a lavish lifestyle at the Harlow Estate? Now you won’t even do something small for us?”

Amelia bit her lower lip, her voice steady but cold as ice. “Is it just dinner?”

“What else? What do you think you can do?” Beatrice scoffed, her impatience palpable. “There’s a significant client from Harlow Group who has a keen interest in fashion design. Grandpa wants you there for important discussions. Don’t make this awkward.”

Amelia glanced at the message, then at the address Beatrice had sent, feeling trapped. She typed back helplessly, “Sorry, today won’t work. I have a dinner at Noven Hotel tonight. I really can’t skip it.”

After hitting send, the chat fell silent, leaving Amelia holding her phone, a strange mix of guilt and unease swirling within her.

As night descended, the city lights flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the streets.

Amelia parked her car in front of the grand entrance of the Noven Hotel, its opulence a stark contrast to her troubled thoughts.

Following the waiter’s instructions, she made her way to the private room, taking a deep breath to steady herself before pushing open the heavy door.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with smoke swirling beneath a dazzling crystal chandelier.

Beatrice was seated next to the head of the table, her smile sweet yet calculated, while the man in the main seat was a rotund, bald figure whose greedy eyes lit up at the sight of Amelia.

Several middle-aged men with slicked-back hair and overly shiny faces surrounded the table. The moment Amelia entered, all eyes turned to her, the air thick with expectation.

The bald man’s gaze brightened, and he exchanged a knowing nod with Beatrice.

“Come on, let me introduce you,” Beatrice said, standing up and warmly grasping Amelia’s hand. “This is a distant relative of mine, Amelia Harlow. She runs her own studio and specializes in evening gowns. Her work is nothing short of exquisite.”