Chapter 193

"Mr. Smith..." Layla's voice echoed in the room as she stood at the threshold, her hand still gripping the doorknob. A furrow of irritation marred her otherwise troubled countenance as she reiterated, "This really isn't an opportune moment."

The audacity of a man forcing himself into a woman's room was repugnant to her.

"What's so inconvenient about it?" Mr. Smith retorted, his lips curling into a smile. He behaved as though he was the most anticipated guest, already uncorking the wine bottle with a flourish.

"We're colleagues, and our being alone could spark unnecessary rumors."

"We're all here to relax, what's the harm in a friendly conversation? Unless, of course, you're hiding something," Mr. Smith remarked, pouring wine into two glasses. "If you're concerned about being seen, simply shut the door."

After a moment's hesitation, Layla acquiesced, closing the door reluctantly, all too aware of her colleagues in the adjacent rooms.

"Come on, have a drink."

"I don't consume alcohol."

"Why so uptight? I promise I won't bite."

Mr. Smith's crude jest made Layla feel as though she'd ingested a fly-immediate disgust washed over her.

"I simply enjoy absorbing some youthful vigor from you youngsters. I'm quite trendy myself; there won't be any generational gap in our conversation. Come, have a seat."

"Mr. Smith, I'm weary from the long drive this morning. I'd prefer to retire early."

"Don't fret, I won't detain you. Come," Mr. Smith coaxed, lifting his wine glass and taking a sip. "This bottle cost two grand, it'd be a shame not to savor it."

Despite his efforts, Layla remained unmoved.

"Layla, you've noticed how Giovanna and Jane are targeting you, haven't you? They disrespect you because they believe you lack experience. And there's going to be more of this. We're looking at a minimum of two more years on this project, and as a young woman on your own, you won't outmaneuver them. Who knows? They might even succeed in getting you expelled one of these days.

"That's why you need an ally. I'm the chief of the Eilish Group project. I'm the one who makes the decisions here. With me on your side, you can rest assured - no one will dare to cross you. Besides, you're the kind of young woman that naturally attracts people. I must admit, you're my favorite."

Mr. Smith's gaze intensified, his intentions becoming unmistakable.

The implication was as clear as day.

Layla hadn't been in the workforce for long, but she was familiar with the adage: there's no such thing as a free lunch. Every favor had a price.

Suppressing the urge to eject him immediately, she responded with cool politeness, "Thank you, Mr. Smith, for your high esteem. I will perform my duties to the best of my abilities."

"Doing your job is expected, but it's not sufficient. There's no dearth of talented youngsters out there. Standing out won't be a cakewalk."

Mr. Smith reclined, crossing his legs, his casual posture a stark contrast to the professional setting, "You're a novice. It's normal to utter naive statements like that. Soon enough, you'll realize how foolish it sounds. I'm merely providing you with a heads-up on what you'll eventually comprehend, to save you some detours. After all, I'm quite smitten with you."

"Layla, my position here keeps me occupied. I don't usually pay this much attention to every young individual. I'm just particularly intrigued by you. Do you understand what I'm implying?"

Layla did - and it was making her stomach churn.

"Mr. Smith, it's late. Please depart. You're disturbing my rest," Layla stated, her expression turning stern.

"What? You think I'm too old? It seems you don't appreciate the charm of a mature man. There's no shortage of young women vying for my attention. I've just been rejecting them. All those youngsters can offer you are empty promises. What I can provide are tangible benefits.

"This project is highly lucrative. Secure your position as the lead designer, and you're looking at a bonus of over half a million. I could even increase that for you. How many fresh graduates do you know who can earn that much? You'd better seize this opportunity."

Layla retorted frostily, "My boyfriend wouldn't appreciate this."

"Is that your concern? Don't worry. I'm not looking to steal anyone's girlfriend. We'd just be helping each other out."

"I'm not interested. Please leave!" Layla swung the door open. "Being seen by a colleague would tarnish your reputation, considering you're the project director."

Mr. Smith's forehead creased in disapproval, "You're being shortsighted, and you'll regret it sooner or later."

"I'm young. I can handle a few hardships."

"You'll regret this," Mr. Anderson warned coldly, his face darkening as he slammed his drink down and exited with a sour expression.

With a decisive click, Layla secured her door. A laugh, tinged with sarcasm, slipped past her lips. The audacity of the man to believe he could exploit her was laughable. He stood no chance against her. If he only knew her boyfriend was Samuel, he would be begging for mercy.

...

In the dead of night, Layla was ensconced in a peaceful slumber. The persistent ringing of the doorbell, a relentless "ding-dong, ding-dong," shattered the tranquility of her sleep.

"Layla, Layla open up, please..." a tearful plea echoed through the silence.

Recognizing the voice, Layla muttered, "Alice?" She squinted at the clock. One o'clock in the morning. What could have possibly happened at this hour? With a sense of urgency, she scrambled out of bed, flicked on the light, and rushed to the door.

"Layla" Alice collapsed into her arms, her tears flowing freely.

"What's wrong? What's happened?" Layla asked, her heart pounding with a sense of urgency. Her eyes fell on Alice's dress, a white sundress now marred by a stark spot of blood. "Are you hurt?"

"I... I'm not hurt," Alice stammered between sobs, her world seeming to crumble around her. "Phillip... Phillip, he..."

A dreadful thought flashed through Layla's mind, draining the color from her face. "Did he...?"

"What do I do? I'm such an idiot. I regret everything..." Alice wailed, her voice echoing the despair of a lost lamb.

Alice's tears flowed for what seemed like an eternity. Despite Layla's persistent attempts to extract details, Alice could only cry, her words lost in her sobs.

After managing to soothe Alice into a fitful sleep, Layla's anxiety spiked. She decided to confront Phillip directly.

"What's going on so late?" Phillip stood at the door in his robe, surprisingly alert.

"What did you do to Alice?" Layla demanded, her fists clenched, her anger more fierce than if she had been wronged herself.

"Come inside, and we'll talk," Phillip suggested, reaching out to guide her in.

"Don't touch me! Just tell me, what did you do to Alice?" Layla demanded, her voice echoing her fury. "Did you force her...?"

"I don't need to force any woman," Phillip replied tersely. "We had a few drinks, things happened."

"You-"

"Don't blame me. She's so into me, and I merely obliged. When I kissed her, she didn't resist. It all happened naturally... I didn't force her, it was consensual. But I didn't expect her to be a virgin," Phillip frowned.

"Don't project your despicable behavior onto adults. Alice is a good girl, and you need to take responsibility for your actions," Layla retorted, her voice firm and unyielding.