Sullivan.”
🎂🥳ミ💖 J͎o͎i͎n͎ ͎B͎e͎a͎r͎N͎o͎v͎e͎l͎s͎.͎C͎o͎m͎ ͎F͎o͎r͎ ͎L͎a͎t͎e͎s͎t͎ ͎U͎p͎a͎t͎e͎s͎ 💖彡
The corners of Rachel’s mouth twitched as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to smile or grimace. She would have liked to think she’d heard wrong, but she knew that was impossible.
How was she the only person who could get through to him?
What made those people think she was willing to go to the Crown Club for that man? And even if she did go, she was almost certain that Victor would throw her out the room as soon as he saw her.
“Miss Bennet?” the waiter said when she remained silent.
“Is he really uncomfortable?” Rachel asked as she sat down daintily on the edge of the bed.
“Yes.”
“How uncomfortable is he really? Does he look like he’s dying?”
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Rachel asked.
The waiter blinked in confusion.
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He couldn’t understand why Rachel was asking these types of questions.
He wanted to put the phone down, but he immediately thought back to the manager’s order to get Rachel to the club as soon as possible; even if that meant entertaining Rachel’s odd questions.
“Mr. Sullivan locked himself in the room two hours ago. We haven’t heard any noise from inside, aside from something falling just now.”
It sounded like Victor really was in some kind of trouble.
But it was not her problem, and she had nothing to do with it.
There was a saying that said when one’s enemy was ill, it was the best time to take them down. While Rachel knew she wasn’t that vicious and vindictive, she thought it couldn’t hurt to give him a little push in the right direction.
“Sounds serious,” Rachel said in mock concern. If the waiter had been able to see her face, he’d have seen the sinister smile on her Lips, and the cold light twinkling in her eyes.
“So, are you coming to help him?” the waiter asked, hopeful that she was going to swoop in and save the day. But then just like that, his hopes were dashed when Rachel said, “Unfortunately I’m busy at the moment and can’t come and help. I guess you’ll just have to find someone else.” Without giving the waiter a chance to answer, Rachel hung up.
The waiter stood dead still with the phone pressed against his ear and his mouth half open. The steady beeping of the line was the only thing that eventually dragged him back to his senses.
“So?” the manager asked when he saw the waiter had finished on the phone.
“Is Miss Bennet coming to fetch Mr. Sullivan?”
Slowly, the waiter turned to look at the manager. He stiffly shook his head.
“Miss Bennet said that… That she’s busy.”
The manager stared at the waiter in shock.
Rachel held her phone loosely in her hand and headed to the bathroom.
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