Tempting Him to Lose Control

Chapter 129: Chapter 129: So What If I Saw It?

Her fair, rounded toes, nails painted a dusty rose, toyed idly with the collar of the man’s shirt.

Miles Warren’s body stiffened. The fingers gripping her other ankle tightened slightly, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. "Don’t mess around," he warned in a low voice.

"I’m not messing around. My foot’s tired. Can’t I use you as a footrest for a bit?"

The smile in Claire Kendall’s eyes was both coquettish and wicked.

"You’re being such a thoughtful, doting husband, putting medicine on my foot for me. I’m just helping you complete the picture, and you’re not happy about it?"

"I never said I wasn’t."

Miles Warren tilted his head, his gaze darkening. He reached up, took hold of the foot resting on his shoulder, and gave it a deliberate squeeze with his fingertips.

"I didn’t realize you were into this kind of play. We can take our time and play more when we get home."

"Until you’re completely satisfied."

A charged, intimate atmosphere filled the private lounge.

"You... you pervert!" Claire Kendall’s face flushed hot. She gave him a little kick, about to pull her foot back.

The lounge door suddenly burst open from the outside.

A portly, drunken man staggered in, muttering obscenities.

"A discarded wife, kicked to the curb by the Warren family, and she still has the nerve to put on airs in front of us."

"Yeah, really. She expects us to clean up OCHH’s mess? I wouldn’t touch it even for double the price."

"Such bad luck running into her. But damn, that waist of hers is something else. So slim you could get your hand all the way around it..."

Following Mr. Bishop were Mr. Webb and the others, all flushed from drinking. They had clearly entered the wrong room.

Miles Warren’s expression turned glacial at their shameless remarks.

The executives looked up, saw the scene before them, and froze in unison.

The air hung still.

Weren’t they divorced? Hadn’t she been abandoned?

How was it that Miles Warren was kneeling on one knee before Claire Kendall, with one of her feet resting on his shoulder? The eldest son of the Warren family, a man renowned throughout Aethel for his cold and reserved dignity, showed not a hint of displeasure. He simply held her foot, his eyes filled with adoration.

Everyone sobered up instantly.

Mr. Bishop stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face, but Mr. Webb managed to catch him.

Miles Warren didn’t get up. He turned his head and swept his gaze over them as if they were trash.

"Is there a problem?"

The four cold words dripped with immense pressure.

Mr. Webb was the first to react. He grabbed the man next to him and started backing out of the room, apologizing profusely.

"M-Mr. Warren... Y-you’re here."

"We’re so sorry, we came to the wrong room."

The three men practically fell over themselves as they scrambled out of the room.

Claire Kendall immediately snatched her leg back.

Her only intention had been to humiliate Miles Warren and put him in an awkward spot; she never imagined they’d be interrupted.

It was one thing to mess with him like this in private, but being seen by others would inevitably lead to gossip and speculation.

After all, he was the heir to the Warren family, a titan in the medical field, and a respected public figure.

She pressed her lips together, her tone softening. "I didn’t expect them to walk into the wrong room. I didn’t do it on purpose..."

Before the words "I’m sorry" could leave her lips, Miles Warren looked up, his expression as calm as ever. "So what if they saw?"

"They saw what they saw. It’s not like we were doing anything shameful."

He lowered his head and continued to massage the medicinal liniment into the reddened, swollen spot. His movements were gentle and precise. Finally, he wrapped it with a bandage to create a simple support.

Miles Warren stood up. "Don’t put any weight on this foot. I’ll help you."

Claire Kendall turned her head away, refusing. "I don’t need help."

But the man had already taken her arm, leading her decisively out of the lounge and pushing open the door to their private dining room.

The executives who had been so arrogant moments before were now huddled to one side, looking pale and timid.

Seeing the man enter with Claire Kendall, the executives’ faces went even paler. They scrambled to their feet, bowing and scraping with obsequious greetings.

Miles Warren ignored them.

Wendy White was sitting on the other side of the room. In front of her were several empty glasses; she had clearly been forced to drink after Claire had left.

When she saw Claire return, Wendy White’s eyes immediately reddened. Tears welled up, and she looked utterly miserable.

"Claire, they... they said if I drank all this, they’d work with us. That they’d take the order for two hundred thousand units."

"I drank it all, but they went back on their word..."

The anger Claire Kendall had been suppressing suddenly boiled over.

’Fine! We don’t need this contract!’

She pulled Wendy White up from her seat, positioning the younger woman behind her.

"A group of grown men ganging up on a young woman to make her drink. Aren’t you disgusting?"

Mr. Webb snuck a glance at Miles Warren’s face, barely daring to breathe. "Ms. Kendall, this is all a misunderstanding."

"Right, right! It’s just two hundred thousand dresses. It’s a profitable deal, why wouldn’t we take it?"

Someone else tried to smooth things over. "Now that Mr. Warren is here... It’s all just a misunderstanding. Let’s sit down and talk. Please, sit."

Calm and unhurried, Miles Warren pulled out a chair and sat down beside Claire Kendall.

He picked up the wine glass she had been using and took a sip, right from the spot where a faint lipstick stain marked the rim.

This small, intimate gesture did not go unnoticed.

He spoke, his voice tinged with a faint, languid drawl.

"Spirits? Since you all enjoy forcing people to drink so much, I’ll be happy to drink with you until you’ve had your fill."

The men were scared out of their wits. They hastily raised their glasses, scrambling over each other to stand and toast him, not daring to show the slightest disrespect.

Miles Warren tilted his head slightly toward Claire Kendall, his eyes filled with indulgence. "You tell me. How much should they drink?"

Claire Kendall slowly raised a single finger.

Miles Warren nodded. "My wife says one glass each. Begin."

But Claire Kendall wagged her raised finger. "Not one glass each. I meant... they keep drinking."

A resigned, fond smile touched Miles Warren’s eyes. His indulgence for her was truly boundless.

He called to the server outside the door, "Bring in ten more bottles of Maotai."

"And while you’re at it, call an ambulance and have it on standby."

The manufacturers trembled with fear, apologizing ceaselessly.

"We’re sorry, we know we were wrong! We’re the ones who offended Ms. Kendall."

"A misunderstanding! It’s all a misunderstanding, Mrs. Warren!"

Claire Kendall cut them off coldly, piercing through their hypocrisy.

"You don’t think you were wrong. You’re just scared."

"You throw your little bit of power around, bullying young women... who knows how many you’ve done this to. Shameless pigs!"

Mr. Bishop stared at the ten bottles of high-proof spirits and let out a despairing wail.

"Ms. Kendall, please, be merciful! We’ll take the order for two hundred thousand units!"

"Yes, we’ll even take it at a loss! Consider it our apology to you!"

Miles Warren took Claire Kendall’s hand, stroking it gently as his icy gaze swept over the men.

"You are not worthy of doing business with her."

"Wallace Apparel will take OCHH’s order. They’ll send someone to your company tomorrow to go over the details. The price will be twenty percent below market rate."

He paused, then looked at Claire Kendall.

"You don’t need to beg anyone for anything."

"If anything, they should be the ones begging you."

His words made the expressions on the other men’s faces freeze solid.

Wallace Apparel, headquartered in Norsen, was the largest garment manufacturer in the country. Its CEO, Wallace Sutton, was notoriously picky and unimpressed by power or status. And Miles Warren had just connected Claire Kendall with them? And even secured a lower price?

This didn’t look like a divorce at all. It looked like he wanted to give Claire Kendall the entire world.

With an attitude like that, if she asked for the stars, this master of the Warren family wouldn’t so much as blink before plucking them from the sky for her.

Claire Kendall looked at him, her composure wavering for just a moment, though she didn’t let it show.

’Wallace Apparel was worth a dozen Holt Apparels.’

’So Miles had given the Holt Group connection to Stella Locke.’

’And then found an even more powerful partner for me?’

’What was this? Slap me and then hand me a piece of candy?’

’Except this piece of candy was massive. For this, she’d willingly take ten slaps!’

Claire Kendall pushed down her confusion and looked at the men across the table.

"Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen. I’ll be taking my leave. Oh, and by the way, remember to finish the drinks. It’s his treat."

Claire Kendall gestured breezily toward Miles Warren.

She led Wendy White out of the room. Miles Warren immediately grabbed her handbag and hurried after them.

A deathly silence descended upon the room.

After a long moment, a ghastly pale Mr. Bishop stared at the ten bottles of Maotai on the table. He managed to force out a single sentence.

"You... Who the fuck said she was divorced?"

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