The call was from Dante. She quickly answered and briefed him on the situation.
She had already been delayed here for over ten minutes. After confirming that Dante was on his way up, she helped Edmond sit back down on the sofa.
"I'm leaving," she said. "Dante will be here any second. Go to the hospital and get checked out."
"Alright."
Sheila's lips parted, as if she wanted to say more, but she swallowed the words.
She turned and walked to the door. Just as her hand grasped the handle, she heard Edmond say "Thank you" one more time from behind her.
She didn't respond, simply opening the door and slipping out.
Glancing at the room number on the doorplate, she confirmed she really had gone to the wrong suite.
She walked about forty feet down the corridor before finally spotting the correct room number.
She knocked, and the door was practically ripped open by a man who looked at her like she was an absolute savior. "Ms. Jensen, you're finally here!"
Sheila stepped inside and saw Cecil with his ridiculously long legs propped up on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles.
Shattered glass from a broken liquor bottle littered the floor nearby.
The room was packed with several of his subordinates, all of them silent as the grave, terrified to even breathe.
Seeing Sheila, Cecil narrowed his eyes.
He had drank quite a bit, making his reactions sluggish.
Frowning, he finally dropped his legs from the table and patted the empty spot on the sofa beside him. "Why are you here?"
At the same time, he shot a lethally sharp glare at his bodyguard.
Sheila ignored his question, sat down, and fired back, "How much did you drink? When you dropped me off, didn't you say you were coming back to the hotel to rest?"
Cecil didn't want to dirty her ears with the ugly, internal family disputes he was dealing with.
"Something came up. I didn't drink much," he said dismissively. "Why did you come all the way out here? It's the middle of the night, it isn't safe."
He then turned a dark look on his bodyguard. "Is this how you invite a lady over?"
The bodyguard hastily stammered, "I-I'll personally escort Ms. Jensen next time."
"There isn't going to be a next time," Sheila interjected sharply. "Do you have a death wish, drinking like this?"
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