Meanwhile, at a hotel in Bingham City, Charles Chase had just finished a business dinner. The private room was stuffy, filled with the clink and clatter of glasses traded back and forth—a battlefield of business deals. If they were in Country Y, he wouldn't have to bother with these kinds of social dinners at all. But now that he was back in the capital, he had to maintain his network from time to time.
He'd left his jacket behind in the private room; his lean waist was outlined by a crisp white shirt, the neatly tucked hem perfectly accenting his long legs and broad shoulders in tailored dress pants.
With distinct knuckles, he loosened his collar and leaned against the corridor window to lazily catch some fresh air. Damn, those old-timers sure could hold their liquor tonight. Glass after glass of high-proof baijiu—even he felt it getting to his head. Good thing Xiaolin had booked him a room on the upper floor in advance. If he got too drunk, he could always crash there overnight.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He rarely smoked, and had only just opened the pack when the brisk "click-clack" of heels echoed down the hallway.
Mia Moore appeared—a splash of wine-red in a shoulder-baring minidress, her now-long hair curled into soft, cascading waves.
She frowned at her phone, her delicate face twisted in frustration. "Bro, why are you forcing me to go on a blind date? Am I old already? I'm only twenty-two! Seriously, I'm about to lose it."
"Yeah! And no one's going to be able to calm me down!" She must be talking to Julian Jarvis.
"Fine! I'll go, but I'm leaving as soon as I see the guy. And if you ever make me do this again, I’ll hook up with Dahua or Uncle Braid* and see who dares to marry me, hmph!"
(Dahua and "Uncle Braid" are Mia Moore's notorious, unconventional older friends—threatening to marry them is a form of rebellion.)
She angrily hung up and pressed the elevator button. Spotting someone at the end of the corridor, she glared over, still seething.
What are you looking at? Haven't you ever seen someone forced into a blind date?!
But her round eyes, blazing with annoyance, shifted to surprise. Chen... Charles Chase.
Charles Chase’s lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile as he watched her, taking his time.
"Well, off to a blind date, huh?" he teased, raising an eyebrow, the glint in his eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses full of mischief.
Mia Moore’s heart thudded—why did it have to be him?
Ever since she’d discovered that Mr. Chi Chi’s brother was Charles Chase, she hadn’t known quite how to feel; she admitted that after returning from Country Y, she’d found herself thinking of him now and then. After all, he was her first kiss! And, well, she had taken a liking to his looks.
But after seeing him again last time, all of that ideal image had shattered: he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing—a cunning jerk who only knew how to tease her.
"Mind your own business!"
Mia Moore turned away, refusing to give him the time of day.
The elevator chimed open. Gritting her teeth, she strode inside.
The smile faded immediately from Charles Chase’s face as he composed himself. With a slight squeeze, the cigarette pack in his hand crumpled pitifully. He tossed it into the trash by the elevator and headed back to the private room.
"President Chen, you’re back! Here, have another drink!"
A glass of white liquor was thrust into his hand. He downed it in one go, not leaving a drop.
By the time the dinner finally ended, the room stank of alcohol and it was almost ten o’clock. Charles Chase checked the message from Xiaolin: Suite 1608.
After bidding farewell to the half-drunk old men and turning down invitations for another round, Charles Chase exhaled deeply and headed downstairs to pick up his room card. He’d told Xiaolin to leave in advance, not knowing when the dinner would end.
He entered the lobby and walked toward the front desk, suit jacket draped casually over his arm and light brown hair tousled under the crystal chandelier, projecting effortless charm.
There was a noisy commotion by the hotel entrance, but Charles Chase just glanced over and didn’t pay it any mind.
Xiaolin had arranged everything; he picked up his room key and turned to leave.
A few receptionists huddled together, gossiping. "Yeah, I saw it too—the table was smashed."
"Right? I still don’t know how the fight broke out. The girl looked really pretty."
"And that guy—disgusting! He called it a blind date, then tried copping a feel."
"Security just got called to help—wonder if they’ve arrived yet."
Charles Chase narrowed his eyes, adjusted his glasses, and turned back to face them.
The girls straightened instantly, slipping on professional smiles. "Is there anything else we can help you with, sir?"
This was the president of CG—so handsome!
"What were you just talking about? That girl... how is she?"
The receptionist hesitated, panic flickering in her eyes. If the manager knew they were gossiping about guests, they’d be in trouble.
"We—we’re not quite sure. We only heard what guests upstairs told us. There was a fight during a blind date, and now the man supposedly called some people up. They’re probably still in the restaurant on the 13th floor; haven’t seen them leave."
Charles Chase nodded. "Thanks."
The receptionist quietly sighed in relief.
He pressed the button for the 16th floor—the elevator ascended slowly.
7, 8, 9... 11...
But then, he pressed the button for the 13th floor, stepping out with a frown.
The 13th floor housed the river-view restaurant, notoriously hard to book. At this hour, there ought to be plenty of diners, yet the place was eerily silent.
Inside, Mia Moore stood with arms folded over her chest, chin raised, glaring down at the man slouched in his chair.
Bastard. Trying to prey on me? I’ll make sure you can’t show your face tomorrow.
The guy’s face was battered and bruised, with four or five thugs standing behind him.
Two sides squared off. The hotel manager, caught in the middle, tried to mediate. He didn’t dare offend either party.
The Wu family had said the eldest son would come for the blind date, but instead, they’d sent this good-for-nothing youngest son. Mia Moore had picked up on the bait-and-switch after just a few words, and when he tried to grope her, she promptly slashed his hand with a steak knife and punched him in the eye.
Wu Cheng immediately called in his goons, refusing to let Mia Moore leave. He’d even doctored her drink—he didn’t believe she’d stay this feisty for much longer.
"Damn you, get lost! I’m leaving!"
Fed up, Mia Moore strode toward the exit, but Wu Cheng’s thugs quickly blocked her path.
"What, you think you can just walk away after injuring me?" Wu Cheng had deliberately arranged for his brother to be detained elsewhere tonight so he could come in his place. Why should his brother get all the good things? But this girl was fierce.
Mia Moore was fuming. To make matters worse, she’d bumped into Charles Chase earlier—now even he knew she was being set up on blind dates! He’d probably think she was unmarriageable. That made her angrier.
She clenched her fists, a wave of dizziness washing over her—her brother wasn’t in the city, and her phone had just been smashed.
Wu Cheng’s men had already cleared out the other diners from this floor. The restaurant was empty; there was no telling when security would show up.
Glancing at the useless hotel manager, a sudden unease crept into her heart.
"Wu Cheng, if you so much as touch me, my brother will skin you alive when he gets back!"
"Oh? Why don’t you call him over, then? Oh right, heard he’s out of the country," Wu Cheng smirked, wiping blood from the back of his hand as he stood and closed in on Mia Moore.
She staggered backward, pink tainting the corners of her eyes.
"What’s wrong, not feeling well? Maybe you should go rest in my room for a bit."
He leaned in, his boozy breath making her nauseous.
Mia Moore gritted her teeth and suddenly kicked Wu Cheng viciously between the legs. "Get lost!"
Wu Cheng screamed in pain, clutching himself and shouting, "What are you waiting for? Tie her up and take her upstairs!"
The thugs lunged. The manager tried to intervene, only to be tossed aside. Damn it, where was security? This was a disaster.
Mia Moore retreated, but her heel wobbled—she toppled backward.
"Why must you always make people worry?"
A cool, impatient voice cut through the chaos. Strong arms caught her at the waist—Charles Chase’s familiar roguish face coming into view.
Steadying her with an arm still wrapped around her waist, he could feel her trembling slightly. She’d really been scared this time.
He pulled her a little closer, raising his eyes to the men ahead, his voice frosty cold: