Chapter Nine: Don't Seduce Me

"Simon" rose to his feet, locking his gaze on her without wavering, as he seductively stripped off her clothes and pants one piece at a time. Layla couldn't make out the details in the soft glow of the dim light, yet she could sense his fiery stare and the silhouette of his well-built physique. With a mischievous grin, he moved closer to her and remarked, "Now that I've got your money, it makes you my sugar mommy. I must make sure to treat you right." Layla's mouth went dry after hearing his words, and she struggled to catch her breath as the room seemed to heat up. With a determined effort, she pushed back against his handsome face, inching closer, her voice quivering, "Oh my! If you're running a fever, don't go and seduce me. I have a heart, you know. Here, take my number so you can call me next time when you get sick." She wrapped herself in a blanket as she spoke and cautiously distanced herself from him. Whether his high body temperature stemmed from illness, burning desire, or maybe a mix of both, Layla couldn't help but feel the rising danger the closer she got to him. Bathed in the gentle moonlight, she glanced over his exposed form and flashed a sudden smile. "So, I heard from Bruno that you started this job because you wanted to make money to support your sick brother," she said. His gaze softened slightly as he continued to stroke her, replying, "Yes, I do have a brother." "This watch is from a luxury brand under the Frucht Group, a top conglomerate in the country. I know that you could buy a villa in a prime area of the city with the money used to buy this watch," Layla's fingers traced from his chiseled abs to his muscular arms, finally resting on his wristwatch. "Where did you get it from? Who are you?" She asked, a tinge of skepticism in her tone. "A friend gave it to me," he fibbed. Layla paused, seemingly not wanting to press further. She nodded and said, "I can cover your brother's medical bills, but only under the condition that we sign a long-term agreement. And most importantly, I want your services to be exclusively for me." He chuckled softly. "Will we have a long-term partnership then? Well, I hope that during our collaboration, you will only meet with me." "Fair enough. I agree," Layla said, crossing her arms. She lightly brushed her legs against his as a teasing gesture. "I look forward to working with you." In the next instant, he grasped her slim legs, pulling her towards him. The scent of male cologne filled the air, and the echoing heartbeat in the silent night felt amplified. They stared at each other in silence. Just as they were about to kiss, Layla suddenly stopped and turned her head. "It's getting late. You should head back and get some rest." But Simon was reluctant to release her. He grazed his nose lightly at her neck as he spoke huskily, "You've paid for tonight, so I must ensure you receive the service you deserve." Layla closed her eyes, tilting her head back as she curled her toes. "Consider it fulfilled. You should go back and rest." Simon whispered in her ear, "They say sweating helps reduce a fever. Would you like to give it a try?" His puppy eyes, innocent and damp, melted her defenses effortlessly. She gave in completely, kissing him as she surrendered to his charm. Meanwhile, at Lunar Lounge, Ashton burst back into the private room with anger, only to find Mike and a few escorts there. After scanning the room, he settled next to Mike, reached for the cigarette box on the table, and began to light one. "Where's Tristan?" Mike, distracted by the woman in his arms, glanced at Ashton with a smirk. "He took off quickly after you left and said that he must go to the hospital. Seems like he's running a fever and feeling a bit down." Ashton waved it off. He was still preoccupied with Layla's words, which kept echoing in his mind. He vowed silently that she would regret saying that to him that way. ... The next morning, Tristan had already gotten dressed and groomed and was ready to head to the office while Layla was still sleeping soundly. Approaching her bedside, he noticed her furrowed brows and sorrowful expression. A wave of tenderness washed over him, and he couldn't resist gently stroking her cheek. He never imagined that she still carried the burden of that past trauma after all these years. Tristan's eyes softened with affection, ready to lean in for a kiss when she softly murmured, "Ashton." Stunned, Tristan's gaze lingered on Layla, his expression revealing a strong wave of emotions beneath his calm exterior. After a deep breath, he composed himself and lightly kissed her forehead. He adjusted his cufflinks and quietly left the room as if nothing had happened. Intent on keeping his mind occupied, Tristan threw himself into his work, steering clear of any downtime that could trigger thoughts of Layla. His day passed in a blur of relentless work. Concerned, his secretary offered him hot coffee and gently suggested, "Mr. Frucht, maybe you should consider going to the hospital for a check-up. Your fever seems worse today." Tristan replied without looking up, "Thank you, but I don't think it's necessary. Seeing Tristan's reluctance, the secretary subtly motioned to Bruno, who was waiting to report on work. Bruno tactfully said, "Mr. Frucht, perhaps it's best to get checked out. I know that you feel fine. But what if you pass on an infection to Miss Hammond? It's better for you to be cautious, don't you think?" After hearing this, Tristan, who had been immersed in work all day, finally stopped. He then instructed his secretary to arrange for a car to take him to the nearest hospital for his shot during lunch break. Relieved, the secretary agreed readily and left the office together with Bruno. "Mr. Frucht seems to act surprisingly fast when he heard you mention Miss Hammond. Who is she, anyway? Is she Mr. Frucht's girlfriend?" The secretary couldn't help but ask Bruno as they walked away. With a sly grin, Bruno replied, "Not quite yet. Let's just say Miss Hammond is Mr. Frucht's... benefactor." Perplexed, the secretary asked, "Huh?" Tristan was known as the wealthiest man in the city. The secretary started wondering who could possibly be more affluent than him to be able to support him financially.