Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 144: Chapter 144
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Adaline, too embarrassed to say "escort," hedged, "Come meet someone with me. We'll have dinner, and afterward I'll hand you the booklet."
"What person?" Elena asked.
Tears streamed again as Adaline pleaded, "You'll know once we're there. Ellie, I'm begging you!"
Elena's brows tightened in irritation. "Fine—let's go."
Adaline quickly dried her tears and assured her, "It's just upstairs. I'll go with you."
Adaline guided Elena up the stairs to a guest-room door, unlocked it, and ushered her into a presidential suite where President Walter waited at a dining table set with red wine and an array of delicate dishes.
Adaline closed the door behind them and announced, "President Walter, I've brought her."
Elena stared at her in disbelief. "You expect me to sleep with him?"
"N-no," Adaline blurted. "Just share a meal with President Walter. He specifically asked for you before agreeing to invest."
Elena's gaze turned to ice. She'd spent enough time in business to know exactly what President Walter meant by that.
President Walter chuckled appreciatively. "Who would've thought this daughter is even lovelier than the famous one? Exquisite—a real connoisseur's choice, Adaline."
Elena fixed her with a stare. "He wanted Annabelle; you refused, so you offered me instead?"
Adaline stood mute, unable to answer.
Elena's voice was flat with disillusion. "Adaline, you truly are... a wonderful mother."
Adaline coaxed softly, "Elena, be sensible. It really is only dinner with President Walter, nothing else, I promise..."
President Walter's phone rang at that very moment; he answered, listened for a few seconds, then his complexion drained to an icy gray as he lifted his eyes to Elena Bennett.
Feeling a sudden chill, Adaline asked nervously, "President Walter, what's wrong?"
President Walter shot to his feet and slapped her across the face. "You trouble-maker! How dare you send her to me? You nearly landed me in disaster!"
Reeling, Adaline gasped, "President Walter, what on earth happened?"
Without another word he stormed out of the suite, fury radiating from every step.
Adaline wrung her hands in panic. "What now? What am I supposed to do?"
Elena regarded her coldly. "I never imagined you'd sink this low, Adaline. Whatever small trace of affection I still had for you is gone."
With that, she turned away and drifted out like a lost soul.
Elena wandered into the main ballroom like the walking dead, the lilting waltz and elegant laughter washing over her while an aching chill spread through her heart.
"Where did you disappear to?" a deep, steady voice murmured as a large hand closed around hers.
She looked up and found herself staring into Simon Whitmore's dark eyes.
"I—just stepped into the restroom," she answered.
Simon studied her for a breath, asked nothing more, and said, "Come dance with me."
As the words fell, his palm settled on her waist and guided her effortlessly onto the dance floor.
With Simon leading, she spun beneath the music's soaring tide; his surefooted steps possessed a strange magic that stripped every worry from her mind.
They moved to the center of the floor, standing out like cranes among sparrows, drawing every gaze in the room.
Around them, the crowd seemed to fade; in the tender melody, it felt as if the world had vanished, leaving only the two of them—an ordinary waltz transformed into intoxicating intimacy.
Simon's eyes were a midnight vortex that threatened to swallow her whole; Elena locked onto them, powerless to look away.
"What person?" Elena asked.
Tears streamed again as Adaline pleaded, "You'll know once we're there. Ellie, I'm begging you!"
Elena's brows tightened in irritation. "Fine—let's go."
Adaline quickly dried her tears and assured her, "It's just upstairs. I'll go with you."
Adaline guided Elena up the stairs to a guest-room door, unlocked it, and ushered her into a presidential suite where President Walter waited at a dining table set with red wine and an array of delicate dishes.
Adaline closed the door behind them and announced, "President Walter, I've brought her."
Elena stared at her in disbelief. "You expect me to sleep with him?"
"N-no," Adaline blurted. "Just share a meal with President Walter. He specifically asked for you before agreeing to invest."
Elena's gaze turned to ice. She'd spent enough time in business to know exactly what President Walter meant by that.
President Walter chuckled appreciatively. "Who would've thought this daughter is even lovelier than the famous one? Exquisite—a real connoisseur's choice, Adaline."
Elena fixed her with a stare. "He wanted Annabelle; you refused, so you offered me instead?"
Adaline stood mute, unable to answer.
Elena's voice was flat with disillusion. "Adaline, you truly are... a wonderful mother."
Adaline coaxed softly, "Elena, be sensible. It really is only dinner with President Walter, nothing else, I promise..."
President Walter's phone rang at that very moment; he answered, listened for a few seconds, then his complexion drained to an icy gray as he lifted his eyes to Elena Bennett.
Feeling a sudden chill, Adaline asked nervously, "President Walter, what's wrong?"
President Walter shot to his feet and slapped her across the face. "You trouble-maker! How dare you send her to me? You nearly landed me in disaster!"
Reeling, Adaline gasped, "President Walter, what on earth happened?"
Without another word he stormed out of the suite, fury radiating from every step.
Adaline wrung her hands in panic. "What now? What am I supposed to do?"
Elena regarded her coldly. "I never imagined you'd sink this low, Adaline. Whatever small trace of affection I still had for you is gone."
With that, she turned away and drifted out like a lost soul.
Elena wandered into the main ballroom like the walking dead, the lilting waltz and elegant laughter washing over her while an aching chill spread through her heart.
"Where did you disappear to?" a deep, steady voice murmured as a large hand closed around hers.
She looked up and found herself staring into Simon Whitmore's dark eyes.
"I—just stepped into the restroom," she answered.
Simon studied her for a breath, asked nothing more, and said, "Come dance with me."
As the words fell, his palm settled on her waist and guided her effortlessly onto the dance floor.
With Simon leading, she spun beneath the music's soaring tide; his surefooted steps possessed a strange magic that stripped every worry from her mind.
They moved to the center of the floor, standing out like cranes among sparrows, drawing every gaze in the room.
Around them, the crowd seemed to fade; in the tender melody, it felt as if the world had vanished, leaving only the two of them—an ordinary waltz transformed into intoxicating intimacy.
Simon's eyes were a midnight vortex that threatened to swallow her whole; Elena locked onto them, powerless to look away.
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