Chapter 3
That night, at Scarlet Bar, Layla, dressed in a bunny costume, walked around serving drinks.
The music was deafening, and colorful lights danced in the air. Beautiful dancers were giving it their all on the pole.
That morning, Layla had sworn never to set foot in a bar again, but by evening, the $200-an-hour gig was too tempting to pass up.
The neckline of the outfit was too low, and Layla tugged at it a few times.
People in the bar occasionally harassed her, and Layla carefully dealt with them.
The manager handed her a bottle of blue liquor encrusted with diamonds. He ordered, "Be careful. This bottle is worth a million dollars."
Layla thought, 'A million dollars! Is there really such an expensive drink?'
She quickly and carefully cradled it in her arms.
The manager instructed, "Table 2. Hurry up and deliver it."
Two very handsome men were sitting in the booth, both dressed in expensive attire, especially the one on the right, who looked like a cold emperor.
Layla was stunned. It was him, the sex worker from that morning!
Layla took a deep breath, feeling a chill down her spine. She wondered, 'Why is he here? Are the two in the booth colleagues? A sex worker making money and coming to a nightclub to find girls for fun, what kind of society is this?'
Layla hesitated, "Manager, maybe someone else could do this? I..."
"Hurry up. Don't keep the guests waiting." The manager pushed her before she could finish.
Layla had no choice but to go over, hoping the dim lighting and her mask would keep him from recognizing her.
"I heard someone saw you at the hotel last night. Your brother is really going all out to kick you out of the Holland family," said Joseph Sheeran, who had strikingly colored hair and was holding a beautiful woman.
"I'll make him understand what it means to dig his own grave." Samuel sneered.
"Sir, your drink," Layla said softly, kneeling to open the bottle for them.
A familiar, faint scent of a young girl wafted into Samuel's nose. He glanced at the 'little bunny' crouching on the ground. Her figure seemed familiar.
Layla's hand slipped as she nervously opened the bottle, and it almost fell, but a hand swiftly caught it.
Layla's back broke out in a cold sweat. Luckily, it didn't break; otherwise, she couldn't afford to pay for it, even if she gave up everything she had.
She looked up to express her gratitude, but when she met a pair of cold eyes, she quickly lowered her head in fear.
Layla thought, 'Did he recognize me?'
With a glance, Samuel felt those eyes were familiar. Her eyes were a clear, amber hue, with long lashes. She was easily startled.
"You're so slow at opening a bottle. Do you even know how?" Joseph deliberately scared her.
"Right away." Layla gritted her teeth and finally pulled the cork out after a long effort.
Layla exhaled nervously, her red lips parting, revealing their unique shape with plump, pink peaks.
Samuel stared at her red lips, remembering the sweet kiss from last night.
It was her, Layla.
Samuel thought, 'What a coincidence to meet her here.'
"Miss, if you're this nervous opening a bottle, wouldn't you be scared to death serving Mr. Holland in bed?" Joseph smirked.
"What are you talking about?" Layla pouted, her ears turning red.
Samuel suddenly grabbed her chin and stared coldly into her eyes. He asked, "Have we met before?"
'Did he recognize me?' Layla's hand shook in fear, spilling the drink all over Samuel's crotch.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She hurriedly grabbed a napkin to wipe his pants.
Seeing her panic, Samuel mercifully decided not to expose her. The soft, weak complaints from last night echoed in his ears, making him feel hot all over.
As Layla wiped, she noticed something odd.
Layla thought, 'Why was his crotch...'