"Diana..."
William Knight's voice cut through the air like a faint electric current, snapping Diana Bell out of her spiraling thoughts and back to reality.
Her long eyelashes fluttered like the wings of a startled butterfly. "Yes?"
William didn't speak. He simply arched an eyebrow, his gaze following her rigid fingers toward the table. "It's overflowing."
Diana looked down. The glass in her hand was tilted, and the clear liquid was streaming steadily over the rim, soaking her knuckles and pooling into a winding puddle on the weathered wooden table.
With a small gasp, she grabbed a nearby napkin and began a frantic, clumsy cleanup.
At least he hadn't brought up that face-reddening "staying over" topic again.
However, a low inquiry dropped from above: "What are you so nervous about?"
"I'm not nervous," Diana retorted stubbornly, though her fingertips only moved faster.
"Is that so?" A hint of amusement saturated William's deep voice. He reached out, his long fingers taking charge as he pinned her wrist down. "Then why do you keep scrubbing my hand?"
Diana froze. Her gaze slowly drifted downward—she was clutching a sodden napkin, vigorously rubbing the back of William's well-defined hand, while the puddle on the table remained completely untouched.
"Sorry! I... I got confused." She pulled her hand back as if she'd been electrocuted, a massive wave of shame making her cheeks burn. Desperate to escape his scorching gaze, she bolted upright. "I'm going to the bathroom."
As she hurried away, William's voice—measured yet undeniable—struck her from behind:
"I'm planning on staying the night."
Diana stumbled, closing her eyes. Only one thought echoed in her mind: What's coming was always bound to happen.
Before she even made it into the room, her knees felt weak. Every step felt like walking on cotton, floaty and unstable. By the time she reached the bathroom door, her forehead nearly collided with the frame.
She stayed in the cramped bathroom for a full thirty minutes, leaning against the tiled wall. Her heartbeat was the only sound in the silence, loud and rhythmic.
The thought of facing William Knight without any defenses left her feeling submerged in a sea of tension.
She flashed back to their reckless first time. She had relied on alcohol to numb her logic, surrendering to the man's gentle assault and eventually following her instincts. But now, she was sober—painfully, excessively sober.
How were two people who barely knew each other supposed to cross that line in such a clear-headed state?
Diana felt this was pushing the limits of her psychological endurance.
Maybe... I should borrow some liquid courage?
She pushed the door open and walked out, only to be met by William's gaze, deep as an ancient pool. Her breathing instantly lost its rhythm.
"Um... would you like some red wine?" she ventured.
"Do you have any in the house?"
"No," Diana lowered her head, her voice barely a whisper. "Only a bottle of cooking liquor left over from dinner."
William took a moment to seriously consider this, analyzing it with a straight face. "Strong spirits aren't right for tonight. First, they're too harsh and ruin the mood. Second, if we end up too drunk to know north from south, we won't be able to get down to business."
Diana nodded vacantly. "Right... true."
What "normal" couple would knock back a bowl of hard liquor before getting intimate? The mental image was too much; she didn't dare look.
"I'll go downstairs and buy some now."
"Don't bother," William stopped her, looking perfectly composed. "There's some in the car. My assistant is downstairs; I'll have him bring it up."
Downstairs, the low-profile luxury of the Rolls-Royce sat huddled in the night shadows.
The assistant kept glancing toward the entrance of the dilapidated apartment building, muttering to himself, "It's almost one in the morning. Why hasn't Lord Knight come out? Didn't he say he was just having a bowl of noodles?"
The driver leaned back against his seat, looking like a man who had seen it all. "Stop waiting. I don't think Lord Knight is coming back tonight."
"Impossible. Lord Knight has three international contracts to review tonight. You know how much of a workaholic he is."
"Heh," the driver offered a knowing smile. "Just watch. Lord Knight is about to give you a personal demonstration on how to 'self-destruct' a schedule."
"You think Lord Knight is like you?" The assistant rolled his eyes. "The man is as disciplined as a precision instrument. His schedule has never been off."
Just then, the phone rang sharply. The assistant answered, and his expression quickly became a sight to behold.
The driver teased, "Did Lord Knight say he's not coming back?"
"No..." The assistant swallowed hard. "He wants me to bring up that vintage red wine from the trunk."
The driver's grin widened. "You think, with red wine and a beautiful night, he's going to have the energy to come back down?"
"How long does it take to drink a bottle? Five minutes tops," the assistant insisted. "Lord Knight only cares about the business."
"That's because you've never seen Lord Knight when he's actually fallen for someone. Want to bet? I'll put ten thousand dollars on him staying the night."
"You're on! I don't believe for a second that Lord Knight would neglect his work for a bit of romance!"
On the sixth floor, Diana took the bottle from the assistant.
Since the door was slightly ajar, the assistant couldn't help but peek inside. In the tiny living room, William Knight sat poised and relaxed on a wobbly three-legged chair, surrounded by peeling wallpaper and a buzzing old fan.
This billionaire CEO was actually staying in a place like this?
"Lord Knight, regarding the follow-up meeting..."
"I'm not going to the office tonight. You can head back," William instructed without even turning his head.
The assistant stood there as if struck by lightning, momentarily forgetting how to walk.
As the door closed, Diana carried the heavy bottle inside, bumping into Noah Bell as he finished the dishes.
"Sis, where'd you get wine this late?" Noah leaned in for a look, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Holy crap! This label... is this Romanee-Conti?"
He quickly did the math in his head. "This is a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar vintage!"
Diana's hand shook. She felt like she wasn't holding a bottle of wine, but a piece of prime real estate. The value of this bottle could probably buy her entire run-down apartment with change to spare.
Noah's eyes sparkled as he snatched the bottle. "I have to get a taste of this. I want to see if drinking a million-dollar wine makes me ascend to heaven."
Diana tried to stop him. "Stop it, you're not even eighteen. You're not allowed to drink."
"The law doesn't say anything about appreciating art at my age," Noah moved fast, pulling the cork with a distinct pop.
Instantly, a rich aroma of ripe black cherries, cinnamon, and a hint of rare wood filled the cramped living room. The elegant, lingering scent was intoxicating.
"It smells amazing!" Noah took a deep, appreciative breath.
To shut him up, Diana reluctantly poured him a tiny, shallow layer.
Noah looked at the red liquid that barely covered the bottom of the glass and looked up piteously. "Sis, are you feeding a cat?"
"Take it or leave it. If you don't want it, go back to your room and finish your practice exams."
"Fine, I'll take it!" Noah tilted his head back for a sip, smacking his lips. "I feel like a pig who just ate a golden apple. Before my tongue could even register the flavor, a hundred thousand dollars just hit my stomach."
Having said his piece, he caught the strange vibe between the two adults and waved a hand. "Alright, this future genius won't be a third wheel anymore. I'm going into seclusion in my room."
Silence returned to the living room, but the scent of the expensive wine made the atmosphere feel thick and syrupy.
William slowly stood up. His long fingers moved to his shirt collar, his motions slow and deliberate, oozing a natural sexiness.
As the buttons were undone one by one, his pale collarbones looked sharp and defined in the dim light.
He looked up at her, his tone low and suggestive. "Miss Bell, would you like to have the wine first, or take a bath?"
Diana felt a boom in her brain. A bath?
She couldn't help but visualize some very intense scenarios, feeling a rush of heat go straight to her head.
Was it really going to happen... in that cramped, cold bathtub?
Wasn't this all moving a bit too fast?
She wasn't sure she could handle it...