C97 You Are a Glibtongued Person!

Westley never imagined Charlotte would do such a thing!

She was the proprietress of the Golden Palace, Derrick's confidante before his passing.

As one of Lindzac City's three roses, Charlotte had a multitude of admirers.

These suitors swarmed like fish across a river, countless in number.

They would be shocked to see her now, entangled with a man of such plain appearance.

Should word get out, it would certainly leave her admirers dumbfounded.

What did Westley have to offer?

He was unattractive, lacked charisma, and came from a humble background.

He didn't have a single redeeming quality.

"Great! I like you just the way you are."

Westley didn't bother with pleasantries; he reached out and drew Charlotte into his embrace.

Without hesitation, his hand landed a smack on her curvaceous behind.

The thud sent a shiver through Charlotte, her face etched with astonishment.

It wasn't the pain that startled her, but the audacity of Westley's gesture.

He was the epitome of pushing boundaries.

"What's the matter? Having second thoughts?" Westley said with a sly grin.

Charlotte's expression softened, and she replied with a smile, "Why would I have second thoughts?"

"Good, feels nice!"

With a gentle nudge, Westley pushed Charlotte's slender figure aside.

She let out a quiet sigh of relief.

She had passed the test.

Her eyes darted to the side, betraying a hint of panic.

The hotel staff knew the employee handbook by heart. They acted as if blind, eyes fixed ahead, minding their own business.

Just then, a taunting voice cut through the air.

"Boss Lau, I never took you for someone so bold."

A man in a black trench coat approached.

Standing at 6 feet 1 inch, he was built like a tank, with a square jaw and slicked-back hair. A deep scar slashed across his face, giving him a wild, untamed look.

Flanked by five or six bodyguards, his presence was imposing.

"Dorsey."

Upon spotting him, Charlotte's pupils narrowed, her expression turning icy.

Westley could sense her profound disdain for the man.

"Long time no see, Boss Powell," Dorsey approached with a mocking tone in his greeting.

"We certainly haven't met in quite some time. Ever since you turned your back on the Burton Group, it's been years," Charlotte enunciated each word deliberately.

"You're mistaken, Boss Powell. We subordinates naturally gravitate towards those with the most capability," Dorsey said with a chilling laugh.

"To speak of betrayal so lightly, it's clear you're nothing but a scoundrel," Charlotte retorted without a hint of mercy.

"Boss Powell, you've truly misjudged me. I pay my respects to my master with incense every year at this time."

Dorsey roared with laughter, "The master will surely understand. After all, Mr. Morris is an excellent leader, well worth my loyalty."

Westley shook his head in disapproval from the sidelines. He too had little patience for such contemptible characters.

Noticing Westley's reaction, Dorsey's brow furrowed. He turned to Westley, offering a smile and an outstretched hand, "Hello, I'm Dorsey."

"Sorry, I don't make it a habit to shake hands with dogs," Westley replied with evident disdain.

"You're calling me a dog?" Dorsey's face contorted with shock.

He hadn't expected Westley to be so audacious as to insult him to his face.

"Isn't that what you are? A dog knows to stay loyal to its master. You seem happy to do anything for a little reward," Westley said contemptuously.

Dorsey's face flushed with anger, but Charlotte, standing nearby, couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. She crossed her arms, ready to enjoy the unfolding drama.

Realizing he was on Charlotte's turf, Dorsey knew better than to escalate the situation. After a moment's thought, he sneered, "So, you're Boss Powell's new flame?"

Charlotte's expression stiffened. She realized that he had witnessed her earlier interaction with Westley.

Dorsey wasn't going to let this chance slip by.

"Yes, I am her lover," Westley confirmed with a nod.

Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise as she turned to Westley with a puzzled look. Why would he say that?

Dorsey was utterly bewildered, thinking to himself, "Why would you say that?"

Westley should have been seething with embarrassment and ready to unleash a tirade of curses upon hearing that remark.

What was the meaning behind his hasty admission?

And yet, he seemed to almost relish the label!

"Boss Powell, you certainly have a unique taste. How long has it been since the master passed, and you're already this lonely?"

Dorsey scoffed and licked his lips, "Why not choose me instead? I wouldn't look down on you!"

It was clear that Dorsey was openly mocking Boss Powell.

Predictably, Charlotte's face flushed with anger, and she shook uncontrollably.

Just as she was about to react, a hand stopped her.

The hand was rough but conveyed a comforting warmth.

Westley shot her a knowing glance.

Charlotte caught on to his intent and nodded; Westley was signaling: I've got this.

"Sorry! You stand no chance! Charlotte wouldn't fancy a dog. And even if she did, she certainly wouldn't fancy you," Westley declared.

"Nonsense! Why not me?" Dorsey exploded in rage.

"Your pallor gives you away; it's clear your virility is lacking."

Westley let out a deep sigh, his face the picture of resignation.

Dorsey's expression shifted dramatically.

How peculiar, he thought, how could Westley possibly know about my inadequacy?

Indeed, Dorsey was a strong and imposing figure usually.

But he harbored a secret ailment.

His virility had always been wanting.

He had tried countless remedies, consulted numerous doctors, and consumed a myriad of tonics.

Tragically, none had any effect.

Both his wife and mistress held him in contempt.

Now, Westley had touched on his deepest insecurity, rubbing salt into an open wound.

"What a shame, as a man, you've lost your most fundamental capability," Westley lamented, shaking his head.

Charlotte struggled to suppress her laughter.

When it came to hurling insults, Westley was undoubtedly the most formidable she had ever encountered.

"I'll kill you!"

Overcome with rage, Dorsey could no longer contain himself.

He swung his fist with fury, charging at Westley.

He was determined to beat Westley to a pulp.

How dare he mock me?

What right does he have?