Chapter 6 Mistaken for a Mistress

Matilda stared at Thomas's back until he disappeared through the door.

She bent down to pick up the things on the floor, gripping them tightly in her palm along with the box cutter, then turned and strode out of the private room.

Matilda walked out of Blue Hour's entrance feeling somewhat dejected.

When the night wind hit her, she couldn't help but shiver.

The box cutter was still clutched tightly in her palm. She looked at the neon lights on the street, feeling lost.

Just then, her phone vibrated in her bag.

The screen lit up, and Githa's name flashed on it.

Matilda answered the call.

"Mary, how did it go?" Githa's voice was full of concern. "Did Thomas look at the proposal?"

Matilda rubbed her aching temples. Just thinking about what happened in the private room earlier gave her a headache.

"Don't even ask."

"Huh? He still wasn't satisfied?" Githa sighed. "Thomas just has high standards, he's a total workaholic. Don't lose heart. Go back and revise it, and I'll help you set up another meeting with him."

Matilda gave a bitter smile.

What next time?

Thomas hadn't given her any chance for a next time.

"Okay, got it. It's late, you should rest early. I'm heading back now."

After hanging up, Matilda shoved her phone back in her bag, pulled her coat tight, and walked into the night.

At the same time, in a private room on the top floor of the club.

Thomas leaned back on the sofa, his tie tossed carelessly aside.

He dialed Githa's number.

"Thomas?"

"Pack your bags. You're going to Arcturus in a couple of days."

There was a two-second pause on the other end before Githa's voice shot up.

"What? Why are you suddenly sending me abroad!"

"I'm doing just fine here—"

"Go learn some manners." Thomas pulled out his lighter. "Stop hanging around with those messy people all the time."

"You mean Mary? She's not the kind of person you think she is! You don't understand her at all!"

Thomas let out a scornful laugh.

His mind flashed to Matilda's enthusiasm and initiative when she was trying to please him, and then that fake act of virtue in the private room just now.

"Cut the crap. Brent will handle the paperwork."

"Why? I'm not going!"

"I'm not asking for your opinion."

Without giving Githa a chance to argue back, he hung up directly.

Women like that, full of schemes—Githa was no match for her.

Better to separate them early, before she picked up bad habits.

The next night.

In front of The Goldcrest.

Matilda was supporting her department manager Jared, moving down the steps one at a time.

Jared was completely wasted, his 180-plus pounds pressing almost entirely on her.

"Mr. Peterson, please stand steady. I've called a designated driver." Matilda gritted her teeth, struggling to hold him up, her heels nearly sinking into the ground.

Jared let out a boozy burp, the sharp smell of alcohol hitting her face.

A greasy hand slid around her waist and gave it a hard squeeze.

"Mary, your proposal was good. The client was very satisfied."

Matilda felt her stomach turn. She pried his hand off forcefully.

"Mr. Peterson, you've had too much to drink."

She leaned Jared against a stone bollard by the roadside, stepped back two paces to catch her breath, then helped him up again.

She'd just gotten back to the office today when Jared told her she needed to accompany him to this business dinner.

This kind of thing used to be Mr. Wallace's job, but Mr. Wallace happened to be on leave.

What she didn't notice was a black Maybach silently gliding past the street corner, stopping by the roadside.

The rear window rolled down halfway.

Thomas leaned against the seat, a cigarette between his fingers.

He glanced up casually, his gaze landing right on the two people in front of the restaurant across the street.

The woman wore a tight business suit, her figure curvy.

A balding old man was half-leaning against her, his hand on her waist.

The two were pulling and tugging at each other in a very suggestive manner.

Thomas exhaled a smoke ring, a mocking smile playing at his lips.

Last night in the private room she'd put on such an innocent act, threatening him with a box cutter.

Today she'd already switched to another man, throwing herself at him right on the street.

This kind of woman—as long as you paid, she'd go with any man.

It disgusted him.

Matilda had just called the designated driver and opened Jared's car door, stuffing him into the back seat.

Just then, the harsh sound of brakes screeched behind her.

A red Porsche stopped abruptly by the roadside.

The car door was flung open, and three women got out, charging over aggressively.

The middle-aged woman in the lead wore a mink coat and rushed up to Matilda in just a few strides.

Matilda hadn't even processed what was happening.

A heavy slap landed across her face.

Matilda's head snapped to the side from the impact, her back hitting the car door, her ears ringing.

Half her face burned with pain and swelled up immediately.

"You shameless bitch! How dare you seduce my husband!" The middle-aged woman pointed at her nose and cursed, her face twisted with rage.

Matilda covered her face, fighting the dizziness to stand up straight.

"You've got it wrong. I'm Mr. Peterson's subordinate. He was drunk, I was just calling him a designated driver."

"Subordinate? What kind of subordinate throws herself into her boss's arms in the middle of the night? You think I'm blind?"

"I saw everything just now!"

The woman wouldn't listen to any explanation. She turned and waved to her friends.

"This is the bitch! Beat her up!"

The two women who'd come with her immediately stepped forward.

The three women surrounded Matilda.

One grabbed her hair and yanked down, while another's sharp nails clawed at her face.

"I'll teach you to seduce men!"

Matilda felt a sharp pain in her scalp as she was pulled down.

She desperately tried to protect her face, pushing hard at the person in front of her.

"Let go! If you keep this up, I'm calling the police!"

"Call the police? Go ahead! Let the cops see what you really are!"

In the chaos, someone yanked hard.

Matilda's white blouse tore at the collar, two buttons popping off and falling to the ground, exposing a large patch of pale skin.