C14 Sorry My Hand Slipped!
Standing before Wesley, with my own words about throwing caution to the wind echoing in my ears, I was overwhelmed with embarrassment. Yet, my need for a substantial sum of money overshadowed any shame; money was the key to my revenge, and his opinion mattered little to me. Wesley himself had made it clear that he was content to reap the benefits as long as I could turn a profit for the company. With that in mind, I realized I had no reason to feel ashamed, especially since my outing with Mateo had been entirely above board.
Despite my rationalizations, my heart refused to settle, pounding uncontrollably in my chest. I couldn't fathom why I was so anxious; after all, I hadn't done anything wrong. When the elevator doors slid open, Wesley strode in, his long legs carrying him effortlessly, with his female companion clinging to his arm, the very picture of dependence. I followed, taking my place as the last one in.
Head bowed, I aimed to position myself at the back of the group. But before I could move, Wesley's towering presence loomed over me. His scent, a crisp and refined cologne mixed with a hint of tobacco, filled my nostrils. Far from repulsive, the fragrance was enticing, stirring a sense of disquiet and fear within me.
His companion let out a delicate whimper but remained latched onto his arm, shifting closer to us. I was puzzled by his sudden movement and, not wanting to crowd further in, I simply turned to face them, my gaze fixed on the closing elevator doors.
Wesley and his companion were in the center, Mateo behind them, and I was at the forefront. The distance from Mateo was a relief, but Wesley's proximity sent a wave of discomfort through me. His breath, warm on my neck, sent my heart racing uncontrollably.
Thankfully, the ballroom was only on the fifth floor, and we arrived in under two minutes. I nearly bolted from the elevator the moment the doors opened. They headed into the billiard room, where both men shed their suit jackets and coats, ready to play in just their shirts and trousers.
Mateo cut a mature figure in his black shirt, exuding an air of seasoned sophistication.
Wesley, on the other hand, was not only more handsome than Mateo but also younger, and his natural air of authority had people instinctively yielding to him.
His white shirt was casually unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up just so, revealing a wrist adorned with a subtly flashy, high-end watch.
Upon their arrival, Wesley commanded the attention of nearly everyone in the room.
Men looked on with respect.
Women, with longing.
They made their way to a private billiard table in the room.
Wesley's companion played the dutiful sidekick, selecting cues for him, fetching drinks, and scurrying about the room in her stilettos.
I stood at a distance by the window, cradling the jade scepter Mateo had just purchased, silently observing their game to determine the victor.
Whether Mateo was genuinely unskilled or intentionally throwing the game was unclear, but he lost round after round.
Eventually, the money from his phone's digital wallet—WhatsApp and all—had transferred to Wesley's companion.
Exhausted, Mateo approached me. "I can't do this; I can't beat him. I need a break," he conceded.
I could hardly comment, managing only a strained smile. "Take your time."
Noticing the bottle of mineral water by my hand, Mateo inquired, "Yours?"
I nodded; the waiter had brought it earlier, and I'd taken a few sips.
Without hesitation, he unscrewed the cap and took a drink. I didn't even have time to protest.
Suddenly, a black billiard ball hurtled through the air like a whirlwind of dust and grit.
Mateo, with his back turned, was too slow to react to the sound of its approach. By the time he reached to pull me out of the way, it was too late.
The ball slammed into my waist with the force of a gale, then shattered the glass behind me as it continued its flight.
A sharp pain shot through my waist, eliciting a muffled groan from me.
"Sorry, my hand slipped," came Wesley's cool, detached apology.
