Chapter 8

In the dead of night, Abigail slept peacefully, lost in her dreams, when an unexpected phone call jolted her awake. Groggy and disoriented, she fumbled for her phone and saw 'Mr. Zane' on the screen, immediately snapping herself to attention. She sat up straight and answered the call with utmost respect. "Hello, Mr. Zane." However, a mysterious male voice responded instead. "Your Mr. Zane is wasted. You need to come pick him up at Plaid Luxe." "Who are you?" Abigail asked, her mind racing. 'Mr. Zane should have been with his wife at this hour. How on earth could he be drunk at Plaid Luxe, with a stranger calling from his phone?' "I'm Malcolm. Get over here ASAP." And with that, he hung up. Malcolm hailed from the affluent Cobain family, one of Florivera's four most prominent families. Abigail knew he was a close childhood friend of Xander's. Picking up a drunk CEO was part of her duties as his personal assistant. With no time to waste, she slipped into her work clothes, hailed a cab, and dashed to Plaid Luxe. Plaid Luxe was an exclusive, members-only club in Florivera. Malcolm had informed the staff of her arrival, so a dedicated attendant escorted her to a private room named AureaFide. "Ms. Renee, Mr. Cobain and his party are inside." Abigail thanked the attendant, knocked, and stepped in. She found two couples drinking on a plush couch, while Xander sat alone in a shadowy corner, clutching a nearly finished cigarette. All four stared at Abigail, their gazes shamelessly scrutinizing her. "You must be Xander's new assistant," Malcolm said. "Seems like a waste for someone as beautiful as you to be working for a stoic guy like him." Abigail recognized Malcolm from online photos. This man, born into immense wealth and blessed with striking good looks, was a constant fixture in the headlines, and gossip columns thrived on his exploits. This notorious playboy had a long list of celebrity ex-girlfriends and was known for his debauchery in Florivera. Despite his flirtatious tone, Abigail greeted him with forced politeness. "Hello, Mr. Cobain. I'm here to pick up Mr. Zane." Malcolm, with one arm wrapped around a woman and a drink in his other hand, looked Abigail up and down, his eyes lingering. "Ms. Renee, do you have a boyfriend?" Abigail bristled at his brazen gaze. "Whether I do or not is my personal business." Malcolm laughed, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Well, if you don't, I could be your boyfriend." "Sorry! I have no interest in you, Mr. Cobain." Abigail detested playboys like him, but she tolerated him only because he was Xander's friend. Unfazed by her blunt rejection, Malcolm smirked. "So, you're not into me. Does that mean you're into Xander?" Upon hearing these words, a wave of fear washed over Abigail. She was terrified that Xander might misunderstand, jeopardizing her well-paying job. Instinctively, she glanced over at him, but he seemed oblivious to her arrival, lost in his own world as he smoked. Malcolm chuckled. "Silence speaks volumes, doesn't it?" "Is it really that difficult for you to show some respect, Mr. Cobain?" she retorted, her voice laced with indignation. It was infuriating how men like him were so full of themselves, believing that every woman on earth would fall for their privileged charms. She could not help but wonder how he would fare without his family's wealth and influence. 'Perhaps he would struggle even more than I to make a name for himself in the world,' she thought to herself. "Xander, your new assistant has got some nerve. Who gave her the courage?" Another man spoke, his piercing gaze unfriendly. Abigail did not recognize him but guessed he was Max Guzman, a member of the Guzman family, another one of the four influential families in Florivera. The Zane, Guzman, Cobain, and Cooper families led the elite circle. Xander, Malcolm, and Max had grown up together, sharing a strong bond since childhood. "What's the problem with me giving her the courage?" Xander's deep, velvety voice echoed, commanding everyone's attention. He extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray with a nonchalant air. Malcolm intervened swiftly. "No, no issue at all, of course not." Max cast Abigail a frosty, hostile glance. Abigail could not fathom the source of his animosity, given they had just met and did not know each other. Deciding not to dwell on it, she approached Xander, who smelled strongly of alcohol but appeared sober and clear-headed. "Mr. Zane, do you want to head home?" she whispered gently. He gazed up at her. "Who sent you?" Abigail replied truthfully, "Mr. Cobain called and asked me to pick you up." Xander shifted his gaze to Malcolm, who chuckled nervously. "Xander, life is fleeting, and we must seize our moments of pleasure." Xander scowled at him, and Malcolm abruptly ceased laughing. "I accidentally dialed the wrong number when I intended to call your driver." He was not buying Malcolm's flimsy excuse but was too weary to argue. Xander rose and strode toward the exit, with Abigail trailing anxiously behind. As they were leaving, Malcolm hollered, "Ms. Renee, you ought to choose a man like me—good-looking and useful. Your Mr. Zane is just a pretty face with little substance." Abigail suspected Malcolm was recklessly provoking Xander. Upon exiting Plaid Luxe, she spotted a sleek black Bentley parked out front. Opening the car door for Xander, she waited until he settled in before sliding into the driver's seat. "Mr. Zane, where to?" Abigail was aware that Xander owned several opulent residences in Florivera. "The HC Residences," he replied. The HC Residences was a renowned, exclusive seaside property in Florivera, boasting astronomical prices, ranging from two hundred thousand to three hundred thousand dollars per square foot, that deterred most potential buyers. Xander, however, had several units to his name. "Understood," Abigail responded, starting the car and driving away from Plaid Luxe. The deserted streets allowed for a smooth, uninterrupted journey to The HC Residences. Abigail parked the car and assisted Xander out. "We've arrived, Mr. Zane." As Xander exited, he stumbled, nearly toppling over. Abigail steadied him, alarmed by the feverish heat emanating from his body. "Mr. Zane, what's happened?" Up close, she noticed his face was an unnatural shade of red, resembling an allergic reaction rather than the flush of intoxication. "Help me inside. There's medicine at home," Xander murmured, unable to stand upright as he leaned heavily on Abigail. Summoning all her strength, Abigail supported him to the elevator, despite their stark height difference. Their destination was a private unit, accessible solely by a direct elevator. Once inside, she eased him onto the couch. "Mr. Zane, where's the medicine?" He weakly gestured toward a cabinet. "Over there, second compartment, red pills." Abigail quickly located the red pills, fetched him a glass of water, and urged him to take them. "Please, take these. You'll feel better soon." As she fussed over him, Xander broke into a smile. "Abigail?" It was a rare occurrence for him to address her by her first name, and his voice sounded even more entrancing with a touch of inebriation. Abigail nodded. "Yes, Mr. Zane, how can I help you?" "Why do you have such an unfortunate-sounding name?" he asked. Abigail was taken aback. Her grandmother had given her the name, and she had always found it lovely. She did not understand why Xander would suddenly consider it unfortunate-sounding. Deciding to chalk it up to his drunken state, she brushed off his comment. "Mr. Zane, you should focus on resting and taking your medicine." Xander swallowed the pills and spoke again. "Do you know how to make hangover soup?"