?Chapter 208:


    At the Empire club, darkness cloaked the first and second floors while music thundered through the air, assaulting the eardrums. The fourth-floor private room was silent.


    Wesley reclined on the sofa, his exquisitely handsome face veiled by shadows, his slender fingers drumming a gentle rhythm on the table.


    Elena settled into the seat across from him.


    Between them on the tabley the cinnabar.


    Elena had repackaged the cinnabar in a cheap box. She knew the cinnabar wouldn’t sumb to oxidation. Although Marlon had refused her money, she fully intended to im Wesley’s.


    “Mr. Spencer, these are fifty million.” Her form was worth far more than fifty million, so the price wasn’t remotely excessive.


    Wesley’s elegant fingers plucked a piece of cinnabar from the box. Under the light, it appeared to have drunk in blood, emanating a bewitching crimson glow. This batch of cinnabar boasted a purity beyond any she had purchased before, virtually free of impurities.


    Wesley readily transferred the money. He straightened up, his exquisite face emerging from the shroud of darkness. His eyes were dark and not a single emotion could be discerned within their depths. He lifted his gaze slightly, fixing it on Elena, his thin lips parting just enough to speak.


    “You went to considerable lengths to acquire the cinnabar. Don’t you want something in return?”


    Elena’s cold eyes flickered, her peripheral vision inadvertently catching the glint of his fingers. The ring was still on his finger. Of course, she wanted something. But instead she replied, “Let’s just say I’m building a rapport with you, Mr. Spencer.”


    Wesley’s expression remained a perfect mask, betraying neither joy nor anger. Most people would be delighted with such words, but he disyed not the faintest hint of pleasure.


    Suddenly, he reached out. Caught off guard, Elena tumbled into his firm embrace, her senses flooded with a fresh, woody scent. Wesley lifted her chin, slowly leaning in.


    As Wesley’s gaze locked with Elena’s, his breath gently brushed her lips, his thumb subtly grazing the corner of her mouth.


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    The secluded room fell into a deeper silence, charged with sudden intimacy.


    With his cinema-worthy looks, Wesley dominated Elena’s view, quickening her heartbeat.


    Regaining herposure, Elena asked with a hint of confusion, “Mr. Spencer, what is this about?”


    A slight furrow appeared on Wesley’s brow as he detected a subtle medicinal aroma from her.


    Elena’sposed demeanor encouraged him to release his hold.


    Today, Elena wore a white satin blouse, which had slipped from her jeans during their scuffle, exposing her slender waist.


    Wesley’s hand unintentionally rested on her bare skin. His voice, now noticeably raspier, revealed his thoughts.


    “I don’t need friends.”


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