Chapter 217

Jeremy's integrity was also a factor. Many female colleagues were attracted to him, but to no avail. However, things changed after Annabelle joined the company. Her beauty was extraordinary; her figure surpassed that of a celebrity, and she was highly competent. Compared to Annabelle, Natalie, a full-time housewife, paled. Unknowingly, Natalie was oblivious to this.

Driving home, Natalie texted Skylar: "I struck out. The sexy outfit I bought was wasted. He left today, not tomorrow as he said." After several minutes, she received no reply, assuming Skylar was asleep.

At Mystic Bar, the dance floor pulsed with light. A woman's voluptuous form swayed to the music, her twisting waist occasionally brushing against nearby men. A man clasped her slender waist, his hand rising. "Hey, beautiful, how about we get a room upstairs?"

Maisy, enjoying herself more than she had in a long time, leaned against the man's chest and asked, "Got anything good to share?" He grinned knowingly; as a regular, he understood. "Of course, I've got some new things to try. How about we test them out, then head upstairs?" Maisy readily agreed; she was experienced in such matters. At home, she maintained a demure image, but here, she indulged freely.

She saw the lust in his eyes and felt his muscles as they danced, finding satisfaction. This night would be anything but dull. Soon, she stood in a corner, holding something. "Take it all," the man urged. Without hesitation, she swallowed it, washing it down with alcohol.

In another corner, a man drinking alone filmed the scene. Meanwhile, Christopher, struggling to find work, arrived. He knew Maisy frequented the bar; they had been there together many times, indulging in various activities.

He spotted Maisy intimately sharing drinks with another man. Anger flushed his face. He believed Maisy's constant seduction had cost him his relationship with Skylar. Yet, she remained carefree!

Christopher strode toward them, but Maisy and the man had already entered the elevator, heading to the eighth floor. As the doors closed, he followed, pulling his hat low. He watched them kiss passionately, unaware of his presence.

Reaching the eighth floor, they rushed into a pre-booked room, failing to notice the ajar door and dropped room key. Sobriety would have ensured attention to detail. Christopher slipped into the bathroom, recording their activities on his phone.

Skylar, fresh from a shower, emerged in a modest, light yellow swimsuit provided by the hotel—a stark contrast to her previous, revealing one. The color complemented her skin beautifully.