Purchased A Mr. Right
Chapter 606

She hardly expected him to say that.

Tilly thought that she was a bad person as far as all of them were concerned. In truth, it was her cousin Madge who had prodded her to sabotage Charlie's and Wendy's relationship. Even so, she managed to stop herself from doing something absolutely evil at the last crucial moment.

Instead, if she really was wicked, she could have easily drugged them to really make things real...

Francis' smile hardly waned. "As for the money just now, you don't have to pay me back. It's just a little kind gesture and I'd have helped out even if it's not you. Anyway, nice meeting you, Tilly. I have got something up, so I gotta go."

He glanced at his watch and hurried across the zebra crossing.

In a daze, Tilly watched him left before she finally turned around and walked down the street. Only, she paused after a couple of steps to look back at him. She would pause another two more times until he was completely gone.

Then she remembered something important and she stomped her foot with frustration, "Ah! How could 11? I've forgotten to get his number!"

More than once, Tilly had doubted if it was right coming back here in a hurry.

She couldn't help but rush home the moment she got a phone call from her cousin Madge. Her temperament just couldn't make her sit still on her hands. Before she even knew it, she was already on the next flight home. Only after the Gray family incident involving the rat poison did she finally realize how she had been used as a patsy all along.

She might have benefited substantially by overcoming her differences with Wendy and becoming fast friends with her, but that came with the price of having to give up her pursuit of Charlie.

She was frank and straightforward, but after all, she was hardly the most resilient girl with a rock for a heart. She saw the treachery embedded inside her family and lost the love she had clung on for so long since she was a girl, and these incidents hurt her deeply and she relied on liquor to help alleviate her sorrows and pain.

She frequented local bars regularly during weekends with her classmates when she was still at England, but she had hardly come to places like this by herself.

Places where decadence and indulgence thrived especially in the night.

The glasses reflecting myriads of colors and neons, the deafening music beats, and the men and women gyrating to the tempo of the music on the dance floor made Tilly chose a seat right at the center. She splurged on a bottle of whisky and called for a bucket of ice and she deposited ice cubes into her glass.

Again and again, she filled her glass and downed its contents thirstily that she began to lose count of how many rounds she had consumed.

For a young and beautiful lady like her to come alone to such a place was like a lamb stepping amongst a pack of wolves. Stares came from everywhere around the bar for she stood out like a beacon, attracting attention from all quarters both good and bad.

Tilly was none the wiser. The whiskey glass in her fingers began to sway as she lifted it to her mouth and when she finished gulping down every drop of the walnut brown beverage, she laid down on the bar, utterly wasted.

A few customers came down from the table upstairs.

Among them was a certain Francis Wallace.

Accompanying his grandfather from Hong Kong to Ice City, he had been asked to oversee his family business' s joint venture with the Hogg's Group aside from other related deals. As Chase Wallace neared his retirement, he intended to leave the helm of the family conglomerate into his able hands, and hence Francis has now taken over much of his duties.

It was usual for Francis to come to this bar with his clients after a business dinner and as they came back downstairs into the public area, his eyes scanned the crowd and wandered to the bar.

Francis had noticed her when they first came in and since she was drinking alone, he decided to not disturb her and he went upstairs with the clients. But now, there she was, lying motionless at the bar, he did not have to be a genius to know that she was drunk.

At a nearby corner were a few skulking men who were eying her sinisterly and Tilly was still unaware of her peril.

One of his clients noticed Francis gazing into the crowd and asked, "A friend, perhaps, Mr. Wallace?" "No," Francis shook his head.

There was nothing wrong with his answer.

After all, he did not really know Tilly at all.

"Let's go then. They're getting our cars just outside by the road!"

"All right."

Francis nodded and followed after the client's lead.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw those men getting up and approaching Tilly. He stopped and his hands balled into fists.

"Mr. Wallace?" His clients called, puzzled.

"I'm sorry. You guys go on. I have something to deal with," frowned Francis.

Before he even finished, he marched towards the bar.

The men were all around Tilly and Francis boldly stepped past them and wrapped his arm around her in a possessive manner and he patted on her face, calling, "Tilly King, wake up! You're drunk!" It took a long while before Tilly finally opened her eyes, although she still looked dazed.

She stared at him for some seconds before she could recognize him. She pointed at him with a surprised smile and giggled, "Why is it you again?"

Seeing that the two of them knew each other, the men furtively peered at each other and decided not to press things and they adroitly slipped away in search of their next target.

Tilly was completely drunk, so paralyzed that she could hardly lift a finger. Even after being woken up, she was still drowsy, and yet she poured herself another glass.

There was no choice. Francis could not leave her there. There was no predicting what horrors might come. So he paid her bill and bend down to carry her out the bar.

He waved down a cab and as the bright dazzling lights from the neon sighboards whizzed by outside to remind him that the hour was already very, very late, Francis nudged the woman beside him, "Tilly, where do you live? Tilly King! Tilly King!"

Yet no matter how he called, she gave him no response.

With her arms crossed and her hands on her shoulders, there she laid and the only thing Francis got from her was the pungent odor of alcohol.

Francis peered out of the window and saw the sign of a hotel fleeting by. He reached over carefully and gently poke at her pockets. They were empty. No wallet and no ID.

Either she had forgotten her things like the last time they met, or someone might have stolen her items when she was drunk.

The driver had been driving around for some time without a proper destination. With his patience running dry, he swiveled around and pressed, "Where are you off to, sir?"

Francis looked at the utterly-stone Tilly and decided that he might as well be kind to the very end and he gave the name of the hotel he stayed at to the cab driver.

It was late at night, so the lobby of the hotel was deserted. He carried Tilly directly across the foyer and beelined straight for the elevator and stepped inside.

But he needed to swipe his card to go to his level. Without the use of his hands, Francis needed to put her down and leaned her to him while he rummaged for his card and swiped it by the console before hitting the 17 button.

As the elevator began to whirr to life, Tilly slid down suddenly.

Afraid that she might fell, Francis frantically grabbed her. But her face was nestled into him and as he lowered himself to get her, her lips met his.

The velvety texture of her lips made him froze.