C94 I Want to Use You!

"Supreme Black Card? What is that?" Director Morris asked, taken aback.

Sweat plastered the security guard's face as he explained anxiously, "The Supreme Black Card signifies our group's most esteemed clients. Its holders have the privilege of unrestricted access to any of our industries."

"Then why don't you issue me one of those cards?" Director Morris was clearly intrigued.

"I'm sorry, Director Morris. The Supreme Black Card is personally issued by Boss Powell. We only bestow this card upon guests who have her explicit endorsement," the guard replied, shaking his head.

Hearing Boss Powell's name, a shadow fell over Director Morris's eyes.

He wasn't in the league to rub shoulders with a heavyweight like Boss Powell.

His gaze was a mix of envy, jealousy, and resentment.

Realizing his mistake, the guard quickly bowed to Westley, apologizing, "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize who you were!"

"No harm done," Westley responded coolly.

He hadn't anticipated the card's impressive clout.

"Still, this fellow doesn't strike me as the type to own a Supreme Black Card. I suggest you check him thoroughly. Could he have stolen it?" Director Morris insinuated with a sardonic tone.

The security guard hesitated, clearly contemplating the suggestion.

Westley didn't fit the image of a VIP, neither in looks nor attire.

If he were an imposter who had infiltrated tonight's dinner, it would spell disaster.

Just then, another voice cut in.

"Boss Powell instructed me to deliver this card to Mr. Jimenez personally."

Upon recognizing the newcomer, the guard immediately bowed and greeted, "Mr. Rashawn!"

The man was none other than Boss Powell's top aide, Rashawn.

Director Morris tensed up at the sight of Rashawn.

He might not have had dealings with Boss Powell, but he knew Rashawn was a key figure in her circle.

"Mr. Rashawn, hello," Director Morris said, trying to be cordial.

Rashawn gave him a brief look and queried, "And you are?"

"Mr. Rashawn, it's me, Josep. We've met before at the Golden Palace," Director Morris replied, forcing a smile.

"I don't recall," Rashawn answered brusquely.

Director Morris's posture froze, his face clouding over.

Rashawn strode past him, approaching Westley without a sideways glance.

Bending slightly, he smiled and said, "Mr. Jimenez, my apologies for the inconvenience."

"It's no problem," Westley said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Mr. Lin, this way, please," Rashawn gestured invitingly.

"Sure."

Westley walked past Director Morris with a confident stride. The director's hand fell away from his girlfriend's body, his complexion turning pale, a deep sadness in his heart. He realized that wealth couldn't indeed buy everything—like the approval of Boss Powell and Rashawn.

They made their way into the Marrit Hotel, entering a vast banquet hall bustling with numerous staff members. The staff were dressed in matching uniforms—the men tall and sturdy, the women young and radiant. Their movements were precise, the result of special training, and their smiles were impeccably professional.

Grabbing a piece of cake from a tray, Westley popped it into his mouth and queried, "What's this banquet all about? And why is it so grand?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Mr. Lin. But I can tell you, the person behind this event is quite the VIP," Rashawn replied.

"VIP?" Westley chuckled, clearly not one to be easily impressed by status.

Rashawn caught the smile and felt a bit more at ease. Maybe Westley was indeed the person Boss Powell was hoping for.

"Mr. Lin, please wait here. Boss Powell will arrive shortly, and I need to oversee some arrangements," Rashawn said courteously.

"Fine by me. I don't need an escort," Westley replied with a grin, settling onto a nearby stool. He continued to snack, his gaze occasionally drifting to the legs of the waitresses with their thighs on display.

"Quite the view, isn't it?" a voice inquired.

"Stunning!" Westley responded instinctively.

"Oh? As stunning as mine?" the voice teased.

Westley's head shot up, and for a moment, he was utterly transfixed. Charlotte approached, her elegance accentuated by the qipao she wore, a smile gracing her features.

Westley couldn't help but notice her impeccable figure. The qipao is notoriously challenging to pull off—it demands an exceptional physique, which Charlotte clearly possessed. The dress was slit high, showcasing her long, straight legs to perfection. Moreover, the qipao required a certain poise from its wearer, and Charlotte had it in spades.

Charlotte had deliberately styled her hair into a vintage wave, her peach blossom eyes accented with eyeshadow, and her crimson lips vibrant as flickering flames.

The most striking feature was a small mole at the corner of her mouth, which lent her an air of sculpted elegance.

It seemed as though the qipao wasn't custom-made for her, but rather, Charlotte had breathed new life into the dress.

She was a red rose in full bloom, a bona fide temptress!

Westley's throat tightened, and he found himself involuntarily swallowing.

"Boss Powell, your legs are without a doubt the most perfect I've ever seen—unparalleled!" Westley lavished her with praise.

"Is that so?" Charlotte's eyebrows arched with seductive allure.

"Absolutely! I'm a man of my word—I never lie," Westley declared earnestly.

"I've noticed that when you lie, you don't even blink."

Charlotte extended her finger and lightly tapped Westley's forehead.

He saw her finger coming but made no move to stop it, allowing her touch to land on his forehead—a sensation warm, smooth, and utterly bewitching.

"Why would I need to blink if I'm not lying?" Westley said with a sly grin.

Charlotte took a seat beside Westley, who felt an inexplicable heat rise within him.

She truly embodied the essence of a tease.

In a hushed tone, Charlotte asked, "Do you know why I invited you to this dinner?"

"No clue, but I'm all ears," Westley replied, smiling.

"Because I want to make use of you," Charlotte confessed with a light smile.

Westley was taken aback, caught between amusement and disbelief.

Was she always this blunt?

So direct in her approach?