Chapter 5

A self-deprecating look appeared in Miranda's eyes. She shoved the shot glasses aside and grabbed a bottle of vodka straight from the table. "Mr. Kennedy, I think drinking vodka with shot glasses feels a little too slow. How about we drink straight from the bottle instead?" she asked Walt. Miranda wasn't known as the top hostess and socialite in the city just because of her looks. It was also because she knew how to use her brain and emotional intelligence to her advantage. Self-proclaimed successful businessmen were usually conceited and full of themselves, and people like them often had a desire to conquer women. They usually didn't care about women who threw themselves at their feet and did exactly as they were told. On the contrary, these businessmen preferred wilder, spicier women with a rebellious streak in them. Only women like those could pique their interests and perhaps even be the object of awe and envy in their eyes. "You're being very aggressive today, Ms. Oakley," Walt said. "If you can finish all these bottles of vodka on the table, I'll consider today's business a done deal." Miranda didn't waste a single second. She grabbed the first bottle of vodka and started pouring the liquid down her throat, one bottle after another. The liquid burned down her throat and sloshed in her stomach, making her feel lightheaded very quickly. Carson hurriedly came up to steady her. "You're swaying, Mimi. Can you still drink?" All the alcohol was starting to rush into her head. Miranda then asked a question that would simply hurt her more. "If I can't drink anymore, would you let Gianna take over?" Carson looked at her with his calm, clear eyes. "You're joking, right? Who does she think she is, that she'd be worthy of taking over drinking and networking with Mr. Kennedy on your behalf?" Miranda couldn't explain her emotions, but a self-deprecating smile just appeared on her lips after hearing that. Carson saw the smile and felt uneasy. Sometime after midnight, Miranda finally finished every bottle of vodka on the table. Walt clapped his hands in awe and said, "Wow, you're really good at this, Ms. Oakley. I've lost to you. I admit defeat." Miranda finally broke into a smile when she heard that. "So, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Stallone will be your partner for the project in Noroville, right?" Walt was confused. "What land in Noroville? You must be drunk out of your mind, Ms. Oakley! Mr. Stallone was discussing with me about the reconstruction of the municipal government flats." So it hadn't been about the land where her mother had been buried? Carson had lied to her! Miranda suddenly lost all energy in her arms. The last empty bottle slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor. She looked around and noticed that Carson and Gianna weren't in the VIP room anymore. She apologized to Walt, who tried pressing for more details from her, muttering that she'd been confused because of all the alcohol. Then, she got up and excused herself to the toilet to throw up. Walt nodded in understanding and let her leave. Miranda stumbled out of the room, feeling like she was stepping on clouds as she ran for the restroom. She really wanted to throw up. However, she never thought that the first thing she'd hear after entering the female restroom was the sound of a man's delighted moans and pants from a locked cubicle. "Carr, you promised… You promised me that I'd replace Miranda and network with all these bigshots… But why did you separate me from Mr. Kennedy?" There was the sound of something metallic clinking against each other. Carson's voice was hoarse as he chuckled lightly and said, "Idiot. Mr. Kennedy is a well-known pervert. I brought you along to watch and learn, not jump into the fire yourself." Gianna's panting and moaning got louder and louder. "I know that you spoil me to bits, Carr, but do you think that Miranda's going to get revenge on me after she finds out that I told you to lie to her about tonight?" Carson went silent for a few seconds. Then, he said, "She'll never find out it was you. Even if she did, she wouldn't dare to do anything against me. She's helplessly in love with me. I have her all wrapped around my little finger. "Besides, she's already 30 years old. Hostesses reach their peak in their early 20s. Who else can she rely on if she leaves me? She can't possibly go looking for those rich old farts she'd been sleeping with every night, can she?" Gianna's loud giggles echoed in the toilet. "Carr, what do you say we go and register our marriage the day you leave her at the altar?" Miranda couldn't bear listening to the rest of the conversation anymore. It was simply too disgusting for her. She stumbled out of the building in a sorry state. It was raining outside. Miranda just walked out into the rain like she never even noticed it. She'd already known what kind of man Carson was. He'd already lied to her once last night, and she even mistakenly thought that he probably was still concerned about her. However, as it turned out, everything had been a lie after all. It was a trap he'd laid out for her, and he'd stopped at nothing trying to squeeze out the last bit of value from her. Miranda was in turmoil. And after drinking so much and getting soaked to the skin in the rain, she finally gave out and passed out on the ground. There were plenty of people walking on the street, but none of them stopped to check on her. A Maybach that had been driving slowly by the side of the road gradually rolled to a stop. The backseat door opened, and a young man in casual clothing stepped out, holding an umbrella over his head. It was Ivan Astor. He handed the umbrella to his driver, Jeff Paisley, who'd gotten down and jogged over to him. Then, he crouched down and carefully picked Miranda up from the ground. Jeff hurriedly held the umbrella over Ivan and Miranda, shielding them both from the rain as they returned to the car. Miranda was carried into the backseat of the car. Ivan gently wiped away the rain and mud on her face with his sleeve, not at all caring that it was now soaked and soiled. He also took off his coat and put it over her body. He stared quietly at Miranda's pale face, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. After staring at her for five minutes, he finally said in a quiet voice, "Send her to the hospital. Don't mention my name." "Yes, Mr. Astor!" Jeff hurriedly started up the engine and drove off without daring to look back again. He was Ivan's personal driver, appointed by Ivan's grandfather, Benedict Astor. He had worked under Ivan for two years now, and he'd witnessed the many times Ivan indulging in pleasure or making swift business decisions during work. Ivan was someone who always got everything he wanted. Yet, Jeff had never witnessed him drive an entire day to a seaside city and stare at a dirty, muddy woman with reddened eyes.