Chapter 10

For a movie star who never blinked in front of flashing cameras, losing control of her facial expression all of a sudden made her stand out.

All three men noticed Winnie's momentary daze and awkwardness. Edison guessed what was going on and asked with a chuckle, "What's wrong? Haven't you introduced yourself to her yet?"

Van, ever the gentleman, said, "My mistake."

His gaze remained fixed on Winnie's face, with no attempt to avoid or soften it. It wasn't intrusive, but neither was it impolite. In fact, his gaze was so calm and composed, with just the right touch of a gentle, courteous smile, yet devoid of any unnecessary emotion.

Winnie's mind was in a whirl. One moment, she wanted to ask if he'd had plastic surgery; the next, she found herself mentally counting how many times she had told people he was "plain-looking" and "unremarkable"—wondering if she had crossed the line and angered the young master.

In the end, all these thoughts dissolved into an overwhelming desire to escape.

She raised her hand and turned her face, pretending to press her temple as if suffering from a headache, quickly calculating an excuse to leave. Just then, Wyatt asked, "Are you feeling unwell?"

Winnie eagerly nodded, lowering her mascaraed eyelashes theatrically. "Maybe just a bit of a chill from the wind."

Wyatt had originally brought her here to assert his dominance, but now, he could hardly wait to send her away and hide her. So, naturally, he said, "I'll take you back."

But in the next moment, reason returned to Wyatt. With two decades of experience in the film and entertainment industry, he had long considered asset transformation. Ordinary projects were beneath his notice, but more sophisticated ones required him to play within certain circles. It would clearly be unwise to leave such an important event early, just for a woman.

His hesitation lasted only a moment, but it was enough for Edison to catch on. He called over the head of reception. "Take Miss Loxley to the guest room to rest," and then turned to Wyatt with practiced charm, "The party is just getting started. Why rush to leave?"

A PR assistant quickly stepped forward to assist Winnie, leading her toward the door that led to the guest rooms. Winnie recognized her as the same PR assistant who had handed her the makeup bag earlier.

At parties, it was inevitable that some would get drunk or seek out other, more discreet pleasures, who knew? So naturally, all the guest rooms had been booked and prepared in advance. The hotel rooms were small and discreet, but still divided into different tiers.

Winnie had originally thought the PR assistant would take her to a standard room, but to her surprise, she was led to an executive suite. It was probably due to Wyatt's influence.

"This is the direct line to the room's exclusive Eric service, and here's my business card," the PR assistant said, handing her the contact details. "Feel free to let us know if you need anything. Consider us your assistants."

Winnie nodded, and just before the PR assistant left, she called out, "This room... no one else will be coming in, right?"

She asked the question subtly, but the PR assistant likely didn't understand. "Mr. Marlowe might come to see you."

"Mr. Marlowe?" Winnie was even more confused than she was, completely forgetting her "sick persona" and looking genuinely puzzled. "What does he have to do with this?"

"It was Mr. Marlowe who requested for you to be placed in this room," the PR assistant replied, not wanting to say too much. She opened the door and smiled as she left, adding, "If you don't want to be disturbed, just press the ‘Do Not Disturb' button."

"No, what I mean is—" With sudden force, Winnie grabbed the door, startling the young assistant.

"W-what…?"

Winnie gave up on being vague and straightforwardly asked, "Does he have a room key? He won't come in, right?"

The PR assistant froze for a moment, finally understanding, then let out a small laugh. "It seems like you don't really know Mr. Marlowe. He's not that kind of person." She winked and put on a professional smile again. "Goodnight. I promise, no one else has a key to this room—not Mr. Marlowe, nor Mr. Robinson."

Seeing how quick-witted the assistant was, Winnie asked, "What's your name?"

"Wendy."

Winnie seriously addressed her as "Wendy" and said, "Protect me."

Wendy tilted her head and said, "Sure. I'm your fan."

Winnie later learned that her request had been crucial, as Wyatt had indeed asked the front desk for a key to the room, but it had been Wendy who stopped him. It was hard to believe that such a young PR assistant had the courage to refuse Wyatt.

After everyone left, the room fell into silence. Winnie kicked off her high heels, removed the heavy jewelry, and finally took off the evening gown that had been constricting her all night. She didn't bother with care, simply tossing it onto the carpet. After a quick shower, she called the Eric hotline, instructing him to dry the black gown and bring it up.

"Sure. There's also a silk shawl in your dressing room. Should I have that brought to you as well?"

Winnie paused for a moment, and when Eric asked again, she closed her eyes briefly and said, "Throw it away... No, wait! ... Bring it with you."