Chapter 86: Name Your Price
The weasel believed she could win Lin Shuo’s favor, but before she could react, Lin Shuo was already pouring himself a drink. “It’s hardly gentlemanly to expect a lady to pour the wine,” he said, his words tinged with displeasure. He despised Manager Huang’s imperious manner, and hated even more her willing degradation. Manager Huang grew anxious, fearful that any careless remark might offend the god of wealth once again.
“President Lin is truly considerate,” Xiaoxiao remarked. She had always thought only Xi Mintang could be so gentlemanly, never imagining Lin Shuo would be as well.
Lin Shuo was unpretentious. “It’s only right.” For a moment, it was almost as if the man who had coldly watched her be plied with drink and bullied in the KTV was someone else entirely.
Seeing escape was impossible, she abandoned her hurry to leave and settled in to play his game. If he wished to witness her humble submission, she would oblige; perhaps, once he tired of the game, he would simply walk away. She raised her glass to toast him repeatedly, sometimes leaning forward so close she nearly pressed herself against him, clinging to his side, even pouring him a drink and feeding it to him herself, her gaze seductive as she watched him swallow, acting as though she craved his touch—so convincingly that she herself felt nauseated. He kept a measured smile throughout, poised and composed.
In the end, she was slightly tipsy. When the gathering dispersed, he offered to take her home, which was just what the weasel hoped for.
Obediently, she let him guide her. He affectionately supported her to the underground parking lot; only when they were out of sight from all onlookers did his revulsion surface. He shoved her away with such force that her slender frame lost balance, heels clicking sharply on the floor.
“If that’s so, why bother showing up?” she laughed, certain he was finally bored of her.
The parking lot lights flickered, illuminating his unreadable face in flashes. It was too quiet, too empty—his words echoed endlessly. He sneered, “Then why did you stay?”
She swept aside the fringe that had fallen over her brows during her stumble, replying bluntly, “For money, of course.”
At last, she struck a nerve. He strode forward, so quickly it startled her. Before she realized it, her back ached—he had pinned her against the car hood. She did not struggle, smiling faintly as if inviting him to take whatever he wished. She knew: the more she resisted, the stronger his urge to conquer.
He leaned over her, long fingers threading softly through her hair, his voice a teasing whisper, “I’ll give you money—leave this life behind.”
“You want me to sell myself?” She turned to meet his gaze, as deep and unfathomable as the sea. His fingers brushed her cheek. “If you must put it so crudely, I don’t mind.”
“That’s true. You people of status invented a term for it: ‘kept.’ I’m simply unprofessional,” she said, twisting her head, closing her eyes, savoring the feeling of his fingers wandering across her cheek, offering herself with the utmost flattery.
“Name your price.” He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, greedily capturing her earlobe, his agile tongue teasing her sensitive nerves.
“Do you hate me?” Her question was gentle, catching him off guard. He didn’t reply, but she heard his breathing grow heavier. She said softly, “But I don’t hate you. No matter what you’ve done, I don’t hate you.”
He lifted his head and gazed at her deeply. She stared up at the lofty ceiling, its dimness no match for the hopelessness in her eyes.