Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 260

“Ten percent? Isn’t that a bit much?” Mr. Clarke’s expression soured, a hint of irritation flickering across his features.

Mr. Caldwell chimed in as well. “Exactly—at ten percent, there’s barely any profit left for us.”

“Oh, is that so?” Lionel’s lips curled into a sly, almost mocking smile. “Then I guess the problem isn’t with me. It’s with you.”

Lionel had made his point clear as day. If Mr. Clarke and Mr. Caldwell still didn’t get it, then their years in business had been for nothing.

By the time the meeting wrapped up, the wine on the table was barely half-finished, and most of the bottles remained unopened. Yet, half the group had already slipped out the door.

The hostess—brought in specifically by Mr. Clarke and Mr. Caldwell—should have left once they did. But she lingered, thinking she might as well try her luck. Maybe she could catch Mr. Scott’s eye and, if things went well, secure herself a better future.

He’d had plenty to drink tonight—maybe, just maybe, she could make something happen.

She stood, refilled Lionel’s glass, and purred, “Mr. Scott, let me pour you a drink.”

Her eyes smoldered, her voice turning soft and syrupy—nothing like the innocent persona she’d put on earlier in the evening.

Lionel gave her a sidelong glance, his striking, fox-like eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I’m not exactly generous,” he said, voice cool. “Whoever invited you can take care of your tab.”

What?

The hostess blinked in surprise, but quickly pasted on a naive, playful smile, pretending not to understand. “Mr. Scott, you’re such a joker.”

She tried to close the distance, picking up the glass and leaning in to offer him the drink herself.

Lionel turned his head away, still smiling but with a chill in his eyes. “Get lost. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and something in his gaze made her freeze.

She hadn’t been in this line of work long—almost a year—but she’d met her share of playboys. Some put on a gentlemanly act in public, but behind closed doors, rank and status didn’t matter; if there was an opportunity, they’d always take advantage. At the very least, she’d expected a wandering hand or two.

But this Mr. Scott—he’d drunk plenty, yet she hadn’t even managed to graze his fingertips.

Was that even possible?

Lionel started, nearly dropping his phone on his own face.

No, no way. He remembered what his lesbian friends always said—they hated it when straight guys looked at them with “those eyes,” as if their orientation was some kind of challenge. Especially when it was…that kind of look.

He let out a long sigh, the alcohol making his mood plummet. He felt like he was sinking, lower and lower.

Just then, his phone rang—so suddenly, he almost dropped it again.

Sitting up quickly, Lionel glanced down at the screen.

Cordelia Worthington? She was actually calling him?

Lionel blinked, barely believing it, and pressed “accept.”

“Hello?”

“George, it’s me.”