C4 Buy You A Night!

Suddenly, my eyesight fixed on a man not far away.

He was wearing a pitch-black suit, and he was drinking alone at the bar with a cold expression.

I knew him. He was Anatol's immediate superior, Michael Steward.

Anatol once took me to a banquet at his company, at which Michael Steward had made a speech, so I recognized him in the crowd. I wondered why he came to such a place by himself.

Would such a successful businessman from the upper class come to a bar to have fun?

A wild thought suddenly flashed through my mind. Since Anatol was ruthless to me first, then why shouldn’t I take revenge while I could?

I stood up with a glass of wine and walked towards Michael. Just as I was about to reach him, I purposefully stumbled and fell right into his arms.

On closer look, I noticed that he was actually quite young, probably in his thirties.

The collar of his white shirt was slightly open, and the cuffs were rolled up, revealing his tanned skin. He had a Greek nose, sexy, thin lips, and a pair of deep-set, spirited eyes, albeit a bit too cold.

In conclusion, he was a handsome and yet aloof man.

Michael glanced at me with disgust and immediately pushed me away as if I was some kind of virus.

"Come home with me tonight."

Feeling a little tipsy, I stared at Michael in the eye and whispered.

"What?"

Michael widened his eyes. Obviously, he didn't expect me to be so straightforward.

"I said come home with me tonight. Don't you understand what I'm saying?"

I leaned on him, putting my arms around his neck, and whispered into his ears.

Emboldened by the whiskey, I had said something that I would never have said when I was sober. But, on second thoughts, after what I had been through today, what did I have to lose?

"Are women so horny these days?"

Michael stared at me coldly with disdain in his eyes. He must have taken me for the kind of gold diggers who often seduced men in bars.

"What? You don't have ‘balls’?"

I smiled indifferently and shifted my gaze to his crotch, accentuating the word “balls”. There was an obvious trace of ridicule in my tone.

No man in this world could bear anyone, a woman in particular, implying that he wasn't good in bed. I believed Michael was no exception.

As expected, the second I finished, his expression changed drastically and his gaze at me turned even colder.

"I hope you won't regret it!"

The next thing I knew, Michael dragged me out of the bar, went straight to the hotel opposite, and booked a room.

Having drunk too much, I found my footsteps unsteady and I couldn't help but lean on Michael.

As soon as we entered the room and closed the door, Michael caressed my chin and gave me a deep gaze before suddenly kissing me on the lips.

His kiss was so domineering, so rude, and yet so intoxicating that I wished he’d never stop.