Chapter 28

Her soft body pressed against him, their breaths mingling, her cheek almost brushing the skin on his neck. Van was caught off guard by her question, his breath and heartbeat both disordered. In the stillness, he released her and stepped back. His abruptness caused him to lose the usual calm and ease he carried. "Sorry," he murmured, no matter what kind of woman she was, an apology was still needed. "No need!" Winnie quickly responded, her gaze dropping elsewhere. "I was the one who seduced you first..." "...." "...." Both space and time seemed to freeze in silence. She had said something inappropriate again. But she had her own way of handling it. Though it was awkward and painful, she remained proud and defiant, refusing to look at him. Because of that, she didn't see Van raise his hand, his face unreadable as he tightened his tie knot. "I really underestimated you," he said, his tone impossible to read. Winnie still turned her face away. "Whether you underestimated or overestimated me, I'm not the kind of person you think I am." But her words were ambiguous. Was she saying she wasn't as pure as Van thought, or was she suggesting that she wasn't the kind of person anyone could bed? "So what kind of person do you think I am?" Van narrowed his eyes, countering, "Do I just shower attention on pretty women, with every action aimed at getting them into my bed?" Winnie remained silent. "Speak." "You could be." "Giving you an umbrella, arranging a room, calling the cops to save you—those are all just small favors. If you take them to heart, I'm honored. But if you think those actions were some kind of hint, I'm not sure if you're underestimating me, or underestimating yourself." Winnie lifted her gaze and finally dared to look directly into his eyes. "Maybe those things are just small favors to Mr. Marlowe, but they mean a lot to me." "Which ones?" Winnie spoke clearly, word by word: "Each and every one of them." Van paused, and when he spoke again, his tone inexplicably softened, "There are thousands upon thousands of people who admire you in this world. You shouldn't focus on just one umbrella." Winnie momentarily found it absurd. "You're right," she said, her smile bright and generous. But her bright, generous smile felt too familiar to him, like one she used in social situations, navigating through guests and higher-ups. It irritated Van, making him feel uncomfortable and restless. "If you think the small favors I've done for you are so important," he said, his eyes narrowing, "then what about now? You're the one coming onto me—do you want to succeed, or do you want to fail?" If she succeeded, then those important favors wouldn't matter, because he would just be another Wyatt. If she failed, she would remain composed and upright in his eyes, while she would appear nothing more than a shallow, slippery woman. The connection from those favors would also be severed. The coin tossed up in the air made a soft 'clink' as it fell straight onto Winnie's heart. Her lips slightly moved. Yes. No matter what, her outcome would be a loss. This was an impossible person, an impossible man, as distant as the moon in the sky—whether good or bad, shallow or dignified, none of it had anything to do with her. "Winnie," Van said her first name for the first time, "I've never seen anyone take action when they know they're going to lose on both sides." The warmth in her chest rose to her face and to her eyes. Winnie suddenly felt a sting in her eyes, her embarrassment and frustration tangled together. She straightened her back, picked up her handbag, and said, "You are right. I am frivolous and foolish, unable to see the situation clearly, and even knowing I'll fail, I continue to make a futile effort. Goodbye." "Wait—" The high heels froze after just two steps. Winnie's body tensed, her back to Van. After taking a deep breath, she coldly asked, "Mr. Marlowe, is there something else?" "You still haven't clarified," Van's voice remained steady, "what exactly is your relationship with Mr. Robinson?" After Van asked the question, he didn't get a response from Winnie, but instead heard a knock on the door from Eric. Winnie stepped aside, and when Eric entered, he immediately sensed the awkward atmosphere and the strange positioning, but didn't think too much about it. He reported truthfully, "The car is waiting outside. Shall we leave now?" Van nodded, "Let's go now." The words that Winnie had prepared, the courage that had surged in her heart, all dissipated with those three words. She smiled politely at Eric, "Thank you," then turned to Van and gave a slight bow. "Thank you, Mr. Marlowe, for tonight's hospitality." Without waiting for any further remarks from the man behind her, she straightened her shoulders and walked out of the beautiful dining room first. Yulia, hands clasped in front of her, looked up when she saw Winnie. She seemed delighted as though they hadn't seen each other in ages. She didn't pay attention to Van, instead eagerly approaching Winnie and whispering, "I asked, that shawl is made from handmade silk from the Pamir Plateau in China." Winnie wasn't paying attention, offering a half-hearted smile, but in truth, she hadn't heard a word of it. Yulia thought Winnie was feeling down and immediately tried to comfort her, "Don't worry, even though it sounds precious, I'll still buy it for you." She had a habit of forgetting to lower her volume when she got excited. Van heard her clearly, his brow furrowing slightly, and he asked Eric, "What is she saying?" Eric, also having understood her, was surprised by her odd logic and couldn't help but laugh as he replied, "It's about the shawl. She says Miss Loxley can't put it down." Van paused for a moment, his steps halting as they moved down the corridor. As they approached the glass doors, the sea breeze caused them to shake. Outside, two cars were parked, a Maybach in the front and a Benz van behind it. The server opened the door for them and gave a brief warning, "Be careful of the wind."