Chapter 4 Sitting on His Lap, Holding Him?
Layla was pretty naive, but after last night, she quickly got the hint, her face turning red with embarrassment and anger. 'He really is a male escort, so full of desire!'
She suddenly felt her hands were dirty.
"Enjoy your meal," Layla said quickly, trying to get up. But her legs were numb from kneeling too long, and she ended up sitting right on Samuel.
Her face turned beet red. She tried to push herself up, her hands landing on either side of Samuel's head.
Samuel was confused. First, she sat on his lap, and now she was holding him.
Layla, on the verge of tears, faced him closely, panic filling her eyes as she nervously bit her lip.
Samuel's deep, sharp eyes seemed to burn into her heart. Her heart was racing.
The scent of the young girl wafted onto Samuel's face, tickling his heart and making it itch.
He had always been indifferent to desire, considering it the basest of instincts. But at this moment, Layla's lip-biting expression stirred a sudden urge to kiss her.
Could it be that a man felt something special for his first woman?
Samuel stared at her red lips, his eyes dazed.
As if possessed, he was about to kiss her...
Just then, Layla pulled away, her legs finally regaining some strength.
Samuel ended up kissing the air and chuckled softly.
"Think you can just leave after wetting Mr. Holland's pants?" Joseph propped his legs on the coffee table, blocking Layla's path. "Either lick them dry or spend the night with Mr. Holland. Your choice."
Layla's face turned pale. She retorted sarcastically, "Sorry, I'm a server here, not someone you can just mess with."
With that, she stepped over Joseph's legs and walked away.
Samuel watched the little bunny's angry back and couldn't help but smile.
'Quite the temper,’ Samuel thought, feeling an odd urge to smooth down her bristling bunny tail.
Layla wanted to leave the bar immediately, but she had agreed to work until 2 AM, so she had to stick it out.
She carried three bottles of liquor to Table 10, where a group of rowdy young rich guys were hanging out.
Layla set down the bottles and was about to leave when a red-haired guy stopped her, insisting she drink with them and yanked off her mask.
"Layla?" a shocked voice called out.
Layla froze. It was her younger brother, Owen Adkins.
He was just a poor student. How was he hanging out with these rich kids?
"Owen, didn't you say your family was rich? Why is your sister working in a place like this?"
Owen regretted his lie, feeling humiliated and furious. "You told Dad you had a part-time job. Is this what you call a job? Have you no dignity?"
Layla felt like she had been slapped. She replied painfully, "I'm just a server here. It's an honest job."
"Everyone knows places like this will do anything for money."
Layla sneered, "Oh really? How much can you pay? Oh, that's right, you don't have any money. You even steal mine all the time."
"So you're a fake rich kid, huh? No wonder you always disappear when it's time to pay. Liar."
Owen's face turned red and white with anger. "She's lying. Don't believe her."
"Let your sister spend the night with me, and I won't expose you. How about that?"
Without hesitation, Owen said, "Do whatever you want with her."
"Owen!" Layla was furious.
"You came to a place like this. You deserve it."
"Your brother's a jerk. I feel for you," the red-haired guy said, reaching out to kiss Layla. In a panic, she kicked him hard in the shin.
The red-haired guy cursed and slapped Layla across the face.
Layla curled up in fear, but the hand reaching for her stopped mid-air.
All she heard was the red-haired rich kid screaming, "Let go, my hand's gonna break... it hurts..."