Chapter 21: The Man in the Hotel That Night


    With her mind entangled in messy thoughts and her restless heart racing with anxiety, Florence hailed


    a cab to thepany instead of taking the subway.


    She did not report to the Design Department upon her arrival but instead make her way up to the floor


    where the President’s office was located.


    As soon as she stepped out of the lift, she unexpectedly bumped into Timothy who was heading


    towards her.


    Florence asked promptly, “Is Mr. Hawkins in, Timothy?”


    “You’re here to see Mr. Hawkins?” Timothy gazed at her with an obscure look in his eyes and pursed


    his lips into a smile. He continued shortly, “I was just going to look for you. Mr. Hawkins is waiting for


    you on the rooftop. You may head up there to meet with him.”


    What did Ernest want with her? Florence brushed away her thoughts for now as she needed to speak


    to him too.


    After escorting her up to the rooftop, Timothy did not step out from the lift but instead went back down


    right away.


    An open air café was situated on the rooftop and it was open for the employees to enjoy their break.


    However, the cafe was hushed at the moment with no one in sight, and even the waiters were nowhere


    to be seen.


    Florence strode into the cafe and found Ernest at the spot where the best panoramic view could be


    enjoyed from the rooftop.


    He was seated in elegant manners, his side profile ever so captivating and magnificent.


    Florence was slightly anxious from thinking about what she had to say. She took a deep breath,


    mustered her courage and marched towards him.


    She sat down across him, and asked out of politeness, “Are you looking for me, Mr. Hawkins?”


    Ernest put down the coffee cup in his hand, his nce at her constitutedplex emotions that could


    not be apprehended. The starested for a while and he finally said with husky tone, “The man you met


    at the Style Hotel that night…”


    “You knew about that night?” Florence was utterly confounded, to the extent that her sweeping


    eyshes were fluttering in shock.


    In hindsight, she recalled that the man in the hotel that night seemed to be someone of great influence


    and prestige too. As the man behind the curtain for the Style Hotel, Ernest would have known about


    this incident after that man had brought about a turmoil in the hotel, exhausting every attempt to


    uncover her identity. It was no surprise that Ernest would get hold of her identity quicker than that man.


    With her fists clenched, Florence gritted her teeth and said with a hushed tone, “Mr. Hawkins, I am here


    to speak to you about the matter that night too. Could you do me a favour?” Her voice revealed her


    earnest imploration for his assistance.


    Ernest’s face darkened as he implicitly realized something might not be right after noticing the earnest


    imploration and fear in her eyes. “What can I help you with?”


    Florence was embarrassed to have to spill to him about what had happened that night.


    She opened her mouth heavily, “I do not wish to be discovered by that man and I do not want anything


    to do with him in the future as well. However, I dropped my diamond-stud earrings in the room in the


    Style Hotel the other day which could lead to my identity being revealed, and I really do not wish for


    him to get hold of them. Mr. Hawkins, could you help me out by getting the earrings for me? Or else, I


    can get them myself as long as you give me the clearance to do so.”


    Ernest’s face ckened even more, his voice getting hoarser, “You do not wish to be involved with him


    at all?”


    After a pause, he spitted out the next sentence coldly, “Do you hate him?”


    “Of course. He did that to me while I was drunk and unconscious. What difference is there of him and


    those bastards who sexually assaulted drunk girls outside the bar?”


    Florence replied with no hesitation, her expression disying detestation and a bit of fear. How she


    wished she could have given him a thrashing if not for the extreme danger that the man emitted, and


    the feeling that she could not afford to offend him.


    Ernest’s face took on a ghastly expression; his thin lips pursed tightly while he sat bolt upright as if he


    was an ice sculpture, emanating brooding chilliness.


    Florence was not sure whether he will help her out given that Ernest just kept quiet. She persistently


    asked with a hint of worry in her tone, "You will do me this favour right, Mr. Hawkins? I am now your


    fiancée nominally, so it will hurt your reputation if it was found out that I am involved with that man.”


    His reputation would be hurt? How nice of her to have think this through for him.


    Ernest contemted at Florence with brooding and enigmatic eyes which were oozing hints of darkly


    menace.


    What did she say wrongly? She thought to herself as his intense gaze had made her feel more and


    more conscience-stricken. There seemed to be nothing that could be called to her mind.


    Although it was over her head, she continued while still befuddled, “Mr. Hawkins…”


    As if he refused to hear her out anymore, Ernest replied with a stoned faced, “Someone will hand you


    the earrings.” He stood up after finishing his words, his long legs stalked across the floor to head


    downstairs.


    Florence went rigid for a while, but she soon let out a huge sigh after seeing his towering back figure


    disappeared from her sight.


    Even though Ernest only mentioned that he would pass on the earrings to her, but she knew his


    awareness of this incident would make investigation in the Style Hotel for that man much more


    arduous.


    This meant that her identity would be safer from being exposed.


    To celebrate Florence’s temporary elusion from danger and her sess of attaining the title of the


    President’s Fashion Designer, Phoebe suggested a party at the club for the two cheerful events.


    MJ Club is the youngsters’ darling among all the entertainment outlets in City N.


    Deafening and heated music were ying enthusiastically over the speaker, and the dance floor was


    crowded with countless men and women disying their feverish dance moves. The scene in the club


    was very happening and rousing.


    Phoebe grabbed Florence’s hand, passing by numerous seats to head to the dance floor.


    Text ? by N0ve/lDrama.Org.


    “Come on Flory, let’s dance.”


    “But I don’t know how to.”


    “Don’t worry, I will teach you.”


    Phoebe stopped abruptly after taking a few steps forward. Her eyes were fixated on the VIP deck in


    front of them, and she eximed after noticing a familiar face, “Eh, that’s Ernest Hawkins right.”


    Florence followed her nce and saw that a few young men were seated on the grand and luxurious


    VIP deck, while Ernest was sitting by himself on a single-seat sofa.


    The flickering lights danced on his body, making him seemed utterly inscrutable and posh.


    As if there was some telepathy between them, Ernest looked up and shot his gaze towards the


    direction where Florence was in.


    In an instant, their eyes met and locked on each other.


    Florence’s heart leapt into her throat, and she swiftly averted her eyes as if she was guilt-stricken. With


    uneasiness swelling up inside of her, she grasped on to Phoebe and started pulling her to march into


    another direction.


    “Florence?!” Harold shouted from her back at that moment.


    Florence stopped in her tracks, wanting to pretend that she heard nothing at all and just keep on


    moving.


    However, Phoebe grabbed hold of her instead, her face disying an enigmatic smirk as she said, “I


    think that man is calling for you. He’s walking towards us now.”


    In that dilly-dallying moment, Harold had managed to appear in front of Florence with a few big strides.


    He smiled and said, “What a coincidence, Florence. Are you here in MJ to have some fun?”


    “Oh yeah, what are the odds.” Florence nodded her head awkwardly.


    “Ernest is here with me too. Why note over to have a seat since we have bumped into each


    other?”


    “There’s no need to…” Just as Florence was about to decline the invitation, she was interrupted by


    Phoebe.


    Phoebe smiled at Harold and chipped in, “That sounds great! It’s more fun when there are more people


    around.”


    “…” Florence was speechless. Was her bestie a traitor?


    Since the invitation had been epted, Florence had no choice but to follow Harold along to the deck.


    She immediately noticed Ernest who was sitting silently in a corner due to his powerful air of presence.


    There were scores of women on the deck leering at him, trying to send silent andscivious messages


    with their bewitching eyes.


    “What are you standing there for, Florence? Have a seat.” Harold pushed her to the sofa where Ernest


    was seated, beckoning her to sit beside him.


    Florence had never interacted intimately with Ernest in public other than that time during their


    engagement ceremony.


    Looking at the breath-taking man in front of her, her heart tightened with tension.