Mysterious Night

"What do you mean what happened? You don't remember anything? I don't think anything important happened though," Quinn answered, clearly bewildered.

"I've got a driver here that I apparently hired last night and the last thing I remember was drinking iced coffee along with you and the rest," I went straight to the point.

"Ohhhhh . . ." she was hesitating to say something but I'd bet that at the same time, she was highly amused by the situation.

"Before you have fun at my expense, tell me what happened first."

"I told you nothing really exciting happened. I gave you a cocktail, only one glass and you fell asleep after-"

I cut her off in shock, "What do you mean cocktail? I thought that was coffee."

"Technically, it is coffee but it has alcohol. Only a little bit of rum," she slowly explained.

"I told you I don't drink alcohol," I told her again but it was useless now.

"Sorry, I didn't know that you'd get drunk from it. I swear it was almost non-alcoholic," she replied, her voice was apologetic, murmuring the last part to herself in disbelief.

"Never mind that now, just tell me what happened after I passed out?"

"You didn't miss much. When we realized that you were already drunk, we went on our way too. But we left you in one of the suites in the club to sleep because you didn't want to go with us to get a ride home. You kept muttering something about Elaine's driving. You were sleeping before we left. By the way, it was actually Lila who drove because she was the only one who didn't drink." Quinn explained further.

Where did the driver add up?

I rubbed my forehead in response to the echoes of the headache that was still lingering. Last night just kept getting more mysterious.

"That's all I know. Did it help?"

"There's still some things that don't make sense but thanks for clarifying some."

"Looks like you had an adventure last night," she teased.

"I doubt," my voice was full of assurance as I said my goodbye before hanging up. Or, is it just me trying to reassure myself?

I pressed the intercom and told Heather to let my supposed new driver come in. He entered the office and I resumed my observation.

No matter how you look at it, he doesn't look like a driver. Yes, he was dressed simply but he looked too . . . charismatic?

I can't seem to put a finger on it but I definitely don't see him following orders. No matter what, I'd have to tell him no.

I gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa set that was a little far from my table. He sat comfortably and gazed at me with those dark eyes. It felt like his presence became even more magnified and the large office felt smaller.

I stood up to walk in front of my table and leaned against it.

"Look, I was a bit drunk last night and wasn't conscious enough to make important decisions. I'm really sorry but I can't hire you to be my driver. I'll make sure to compensate you properly," I laid out my decision right at the bat. I can't hire someone based on my inebriation. It was full of red flags especially when I don't even remember those few hours.

A small smile was playing on his lips as he absorbed what I said and then he spoke with a low voice that tugged at her memories but it wasn't enough to completely make her remember, " You don't remember anything, do you?"

"Of course, I remember. It just took me a while to place your face from last night," I lied, without even batting an eyelid.

"Really?" He spoke with a low voice that seemed to hint at something while his fingers tapped slowly at his knee again.

I projected impassiveness on my face even though I was getting antsy with the thought that I'm missing something important which he had full knowledge of. He stared a few more seconds before finally speaking again.

"Alright then," the right corner of his mouth twitched higher in response to my words before shrugging.

It looked like he'd be amenable to talk about the situation at least.

"I'm alright with not accepting this job but I already resigned from my previous job with Blanca because you promised me a higher salary. You'll have to take responsibility," he bluntly told me, leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him.

I couldn't help but grimace at what I heard. Of all the places, why is it Blanca?

He spoke again which yanked my attention back to him, "Is there a problem?"

Blanca was one of the high-end bars inside The Book Club. It was owned by one of the members. Normally, I can easily talk to the owner and ask for a favor to give him back the job but we weren't on good terms. Arisa Meyer, the woman who owned the establishment 'finds my very presence offensive'. Those were her exact words that she declared in front of me out of the blue.

I didn't know the reason and didn't care enough to find out as it didn't affect me adversely. Now, it's too late and it came to bite me back.

"I don't mean to pressure you but that job was important. I wouldn't have resigned if I knew this would happen," his face showed a slight frown.

I have to think of another way to compensate him but I would need time to make a move so I voiced out, "I completely understand. However, maybe we can talk about it another time and I'll ca-"

The rest of my words were cut off when the door suddenly opened as Heather barged in.

"I'm sorry for the interruption but there's an urgent meeting scheduled for you, Miranda," her words tumbled hurriedly.

I gave her a stare which meant that I was annoyed. She knew that I dislike interruptions as well as meetings scheduled without sufficient notice.

She just simply said, "Mr. Lee is in town and it was the only time he agreed to meet you."

I straightened quickly upon her words. Mr. Lee was someone we've been wooing for months now to close a business deal that would not just give us significant profits but would also increase the global presence of the company but he was proving to be elusive so this was a rare chance.

"I'm sorry but I have to go. I'll have Heather call you so we can continue this talk," I faced his direction to say my piece before striding towards the door without waiting for his response.

"You're not bringing a driver?" Heather asked, looking wide-eyed at me.

"No," I answered impatiently, not finding anything wrong with it.

Heather hesitated before finally suggesting, "I think you need to bring a driver. Mr. Lee hates tardiness the most."

Knowing how directionally-challenged I am, she already knew that I was going to be late.

I looked at the guy and he looked back at me expectantly. One side of his lips quirked up in a small smile. It made me nervous for some reason that I didn't know but I'm not the type to be affected by emotions. It was probably because of the headache or calling it hungover would be more apt which brought irritation.

Dad did always say that my unholy worship of coffee would get me in trouble someday.