Chapter 8 Chapter Eight
1417 Words
Amelia felt like her brain had short-circuited, her face turning noticeably pale.
Richard was dead serious.
She didn't doubt it one bit—if the money didn't show up in his account by midnight, he really would harm her mom.
But... what else could she possibly do?
After hesitating for what felt like forever, she finally opened the drawer, gripping that resignation letter with trembling fingers—then tossed it straight into the shredder.
There was no way she'd gamble her mom's life.
Swallowing the bitterness in her throat, Amelia took a deep breath and, after some inner struggle, dialed Simon's number.
As expected—no answer.
Knowing the kind of guy he was, it wasn't surprising. He wouldn't let her repeatedly embarrass him and just let it go.
If she wanted to back down, she'd have to do it face-to-face.
Amelia inhaled sharply, stood up, and made her way to the executive office.
The door was slightly open.
She knocked gently, and a man's voice floated out, "Come in."
Simon was lounging on the couch, relaxed and clearly in a good mood.
And sitting right next to him—was the same woman from the café yesterday.
That woman's dress? Barely reached her thighs.
Amelia's eyes flicked briefly to the way the woman's legs were practically glued to Simon's. She looked away a second later.
Yeah, she probably picked the worst time to come.
The woman's face dropped the moment she saw Amelia walk in, clearly not happy to see her. But with Simon right there, she kept her mouth shut.
Simon raised an eyebrow and glanced at her.
"Miss Clarke, something you need?"
Amelia's gaze shifted to the woman next to him.
"Yeah, I do need a word."
Simon leaned back against the couch. "If it's about quitting, go straight to HR."
She hesitated before replying, "It's not about that."
A faint, almost mocking laugh escaped him. "Really? I figured the only reason you'd come looking for me was to hand in your resignation."
Amelia ignored the edge in his tone. Her eyes landed once more on the woman sitting so close to him.
"I was hoping to talk to you. Alone."
Simon stared, silent, like he was weighing whether the conversation was even worth having.
Amelia's stomach twisted. She knew how he worked.
Back at the club, she'd embarrassed him, and then the whole quitting drama—there was no way he'd let that slide easily.
Sure enough, he let out a low chuckle. "Do we really have anything left to talk about in private, Amelia?"
Amelia pressed her lips together tightly, took a deep breath, and said, "Mr. Johnson, I've decided not to quit."
Simon didn't even blink. "And?"
"I'd like to talk about my salary moving forward."
With his arms crossed, Simon eventually turned to the woman next to him and said, "Sorry, Fiona. Let's pick this up another time."
Fiona Young glanced at Amelia, irritation flashing across her face.
Still, she forced a smile at Simon. "Alright then, I'll let you handle Miss Clarke's matter first."
She gave Amelia a sharp look before storming out of the room.
Once the door shut, Simon finally looked at Amelia.
"So, how do you want to discuss it?"
Amelia stayed quiet, unsure how to even start.
Simon didn't rush her. He just sat there, like he had all the time in the world.
Finally, under the weight of his gaze, she said, "Mr. Johnson, I... I need to borrow some money."
"Pfft—"
The mocking tone in Simon's laugh was impossible to miss.
"Let me guess, you think I run a charity? Or maybe you believe we're tight enough that I'd just hand you money?"
Embarrassment burned across Amelia's face—just as she expected.
Still, she pushed through and spoke anyway."
I'll pay you back."
Simon crossed his arms. "Amelia, if you haven't made up your mind, then leave."
His tone was ice-cold, totally unapproachable.
Amelia stayed rooted to the spot.
After a long pause, she finally lowered her head and muttered, "I'm not quitting."
Simon's expression eased a little. "What was that? I didn't catch it."
She looked up, meeting his gaze. "I'm not quitting. I overreacted before. Mr. Johnson, I hope you can understand."
A faint smile tugged at Simon's lips, the frost finally melting away. "Come here."
Amelia knew exactly what he meant.
But she had no other choice now.
After hesitating for a couple of seconds, she slowly walked toward him.
Simon grabbed her, pulling her down hard.
In an instant, the world spun, and she was pinned beneath him.
"Really not leaving?"
Amelia looked away and gave a quiet "Yeah."
"Look at me and say it." Simon turned her face toward him, a little forcefully.
Swallowing her bitterness, Amelia forced a smile. "Yeah. I'm staying."
"What changed your mind? Let's hear it." He clearly wasn't letting her off the hook.
She went quiet for a while before speaking through clenched teeth. "I need money. And right now, there's no one else who'll pay me to get in their bed and still keep me on payroll."
Simon let out a chuckle, one hand slipping past the hem of her shirt.
"Well, aren't you bold. So tell me, Miss Clarke, what do you think this is worth?"
Amelia kept her voice as steady as she could. "One million. Just for tonight."
His fingers paused mid-button, a cold smile tugging at his lips. "You think you're worth that much?"
Amelia forced a grin, trying to sound like she didn't care at all. "Don't think so? No problem, I'll just find someone else who might."
"Amelia!"
Simon suddenly gripped her chin hard.
She instantly shut up.
Simon wasn't one to lose his temper often.
Most of the time, the guy was an expert at hiding all his emotions, never letting anyone read him.
But now, with that fire in his eyes, it actually made her feel a little afraid.
"I was kidding," she said quickly, meeting his eyes. "But seriously, do you think I'm worth it?"
His expression only got colder. "Since you're naming a price, then act like you're worth every cent."
Then he stood up. "Go home after work. Don't hang around."
Amelia forced a smile. "Sure."
After clocking out, Amelia headed home.
Or whatever "home" meant now.
This was the apartment Simon had given her when they first got together.
Back then, she'd decorated every corner with joy.
To her, this place had always been home.
Their home.
As soon as Amelia walked in, she saw Simon already lounging on the couch.
"Go shower," he said flatly without even sparing her a glance.
She froze for a second, then forced out a "Okay."
When she came out of the bathroom, Simon was on the phone.
He held out his hand as soon as he saw her.
She silently took it.
He pulled her straight onto his lap.
"Amelia, help me take off my shirt," he murmured by her ear, lips brushing her skin.
Amelia's body stiffened. His call hadn't ended.
"Hurry up."
His tone turned impatient when she didn't move fast enough.
Biting the bullet, she began unbuttoning his shirt.
Simon's physique was something else.
As each button came undone, revealing chest down to those abs, even after three years, she still felt awkward.
"Alright, confirm it then." He lazily responded to whoever was on the other end of the call.
Right after, he leaned in and bit her neck—not hard, but firm enough to make her flinch."
Mmm!"
Amelia let out a soft gasp before she could stop herself.
The person on the other end of the line froze.
Her whole body tensed up as Simon went in again without hesitation.
"Simon."
She blurted out his name, startled.
Only then did Simon seem satisfied — he ended the call.
Amelia glanced at the screen. Anselme.
She sighed inwardly. Typical Simon — the guy never swallowed a loss.
Anyone who made him uncomfortable, he'd pay it back double. No exception.
And right after he hung up, he pulled her in fiercely for a kiss.
There was no holding back — like he was trying to consume every part of her.
"Amelia, come on, just follow my lead."
Her hands fumbled at his belt.
She mumbled, "Simon, can you just... go easy?"
He chuckled lowly. "You think I can take it slow now?"
Every bit of his intensity came crashing down at once — overwhelming and unstoppable.
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