CHAPTER 98: CHAPTER 98: ZIA, TRYING TO PICK UP MEN?

Night, called a bar, is more like a club.

On the outdoor lawn of the luxurious detached villa, lights were flashing and dazzling with neon colors.

Half-naked muscular male models were strutting on the runway, serving as entertainment for the wealthy ladies.

"See anyone you like?" Blake Lockwood asked, sitting next to Eleanor Winslow.

Meanwhile, several male models had already thrown flirtatious glances their way.

Eleanor shook her head.

She had known about such places before, but never visited, and now she felt a bit uneasy.

Driven by curiosity, Eleanor looked around. Suddenly, her gaze paused on a man standing in the corner.

The male model looked about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, dressed in the simplest black and white suit, with handsome features and a distinguished demeanor. His hair was the most natural shade of black, making him stand out subtly among the array of ash blonde, golden, and granny grey hair colors.

Eleanor thought he bore some resemblance to Adrian Grant.

The black-haired male model keenly sensed Eleanor’s gaze and walked toward her.

"Miss, would you like something to drink? Our Long Island Iced Tea and Godfather are specialty cocktails. Would you like to try one?" Eleanor was seated, and the black-haired male model deliberately bent down to speak with her.

His words were courteous, unlike the other male models who called out sweetly ’Missy,’ which unconsciously lowered Eleanor’s guard.

"I’ll have the Godfather." Eleanor didn’t want anything too strong.

She suddenly remembered her hands were inconvenient, just about to say never mind, but the black-haired male model had already picked up a ’Godfather’ and naturally brought it to Eleanor’s lips.

His expression was very natural, without the slightest ingratiation, with an attitude neither overbearing nor servile, just as if he was doing a very ordinary job, merely performing his duty.

"Um..." Eleanor looked at the glass brought to her lips, a bit hesitant.

"Miss, your hands are inconvenient." The black-haired male model seemed to see through her thoughts and said considerately, "Why not have a taste?"

Beside Blake, a cute guy was chatting with her, making her laugh.

She teased Eleanor with a look, silently egging her not to be shy.

Eleanor tilted her head slightly, sipping the drink as the black-haired male model held it.

The taste of almonds and cinnamon burst in her mouth, with a hint of something indescribable.

Eleanor’s eyes lit up, nodding that it was good, and took another sip.

Suddenly, she sensed the atmosphere around them was off, even Blake beside her had stopped drinking.

Eleanor followed her gaze to look over—

Night’s owner was standing at the entrance to the lawn party, speaking respectfully yet ingratiatingly with two tall, imposing men.

The man wore an ankle-length trench coat over a shirt and trousers, his features cold and stern, the genteel facade he usually displayed vanished in the night wind, replaced by a few layers of unapproachable aloofness and menace.

Beside Adrian Grant stood Trevor Hawthorne, also in a suit, but more casual, with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, giving off a free and uninhibited vibe.

Eleanor was still reclining on the sofa, exuding a sense of laziness, her gaze crossing over a dozen meters to lock eyes with Adrian Grant.

After a few seconds, Eleanor withdrew her gaze and glanced at the black-haired male model again.

She had to admit, Adrian Grant’s face was still better!

"Miss, would you like to try something else?" The black-haired male model brought over another orangey-red gradient cocktail, "This is a Tequila Sunrise, how about this?"

Eleanor knew Adrian Grant was watching her. She glanced at the black-haired male model and for some reason, slightly tilted her chin.

It signaled she wanted to drink.

The black-haired male model dutifully fed her the drink, his right hand holding the glass, while his left stealthily gripped Eleanor’s shoulder.

Eleanor’s eyes widened, looking at him.

Not far away, Adrian Grant narrowed his eyes, staring intently at Eleanor, while Night’s owner only felt the surrounding pressure drop sharply.

Eleanor was about to tell him to get lost, but the man from a distance had already strode over, grabbed the black-haired male model by the collar, and threw him backward!

"Splat!"

"Splash!"

The six-foot man was directly thrown into the swimming pool, causing a splash!

The light in front of her was blocked by a man with a more oppressive presence, Adrian Grant standing backlit, lowering his eyes to look at Eleanor reclining on the sofa, his face obscured by the backlight, but the pressure around him was terrifyingly low.

The surrounding guests unconsciously paused, watching this spectacle.

"Young Master Grant, you’re blocking my light," Eleanor spoke calmly, without a trace of guilt.

Adrian Grant coldly retorted, "Am I blocking your light, or your means of finding someone?"

"If you put it that way, you’re not wrong."

Eleanor glanced at the black-haired male model who had just climbed out of the pool, trembling with cold, feeling a little guilty.

If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have been thrown into the pool in such cold autumn weather.

Adrian Grant’s lips pressed tightly together; he was someone who hid his emotions well, but this small gesture showed he was struggling to control his emotions.

Eleanor felt a strange thrill inside, smiling as she spoke, "Adrian Grant, is this the feeling you had when you were with Mia Winslow?"

"Eleanor, I already said, I have no romantic feelings for Mia."

"I also have no romantic feelings for the handsome guys here."

But after all, for diversion, who needs romance?

Eleanor was initially in a good mood, but now with Adrian’s arrival, it was all ruined.

She planned to leave, but having sat for too long, and coupled with her inconvenienced hands, she swayed when she stood up.

In the next moment, her waist was firmly supported by a large hand.

The man’s tall figure immediately loomed over her.

"Feeling unwell yet still looking to flirt?" Adrian Grant almost whispered into Eleanor’s ear, his voice deep and bewitching, "Zia, can those wild men serve you well?"

Eleanor’s ears reddened slightly, wanting to push him away, but couldn’t since her injured hands prevented her from worsening her condition.

She looked into the man’s eyes, her words teasing, "Isn’t it you men who say the grass is always greener?"

Adrian Grant was a bit surprised, nodding in approval, "Sharp-tongued, let’s hope you keep up in bed."

Eleanor was always bashful in matters of the bedroom, a stark contrast to her current bravado.

In the next moment, Adrian Grant used his arms with force!

Eleanor only felt her body lighten, suddenly scooped up by Adrian Grant!

"What are you doing! Adrian Grant!" Eleanor struggled to get down.

The man said coldly, "I’ll let you see whether mine is sweet or not!"

Adrian Grant firmly grasped her knees and shoulders, preventing Eleanor from breaking free.

He strode out unhurriedly, the people along the way automatically parting to the sides, all watching this scene in shock.

Blake Lockwood, seeing the situation, quickly grabbed her bag, wanting to follow.

But she was stopped by Trevor Hawthorne, who had been silent all along:

"Mrs. Hawthorne, where are you heading?"