“Why would she go now? The session started ages ago—what’s the point? Just asking for trouble,” the secretary muttered, her frustration mounting.
The person on the other end of the phone didn’t even dare to reply. The secretary ended the call with a sigh, her head throbbing from the stress. After a moment of contemplation, she decided to contact her boss directly.
Before she could speak, the man on the other end spoke first, his voice laced with annoyance. “Why isn’t the tutor here yet?”
Apologizing quickly, the secretary replied, “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Smith. The assistant mixed up the women and mistook the tutor for Lily. She’s still at Lowe Garden…”
“What!” Mr. Smith exploded, jumping to his feet from the couch. As he tried to extinguish the cigarette in his hand, he snapped, “How did you screw up something so simple?”
“Mr. Smith, please don’t worry. The tutor…” the secretary started, but was immediately cut off.
“Who cares about that tutor! Just tell me: did you offend anyone? Especially Mr. Ford?” he asked, his voice sharp. When the secretary denied it, Mr. Smith breathed a sigh of relief. “Fine. Just find another tutor for me.”
Dance tutors were easy to come by. However, offending Weston Ford was a whole other matter. No one in their right mind would want to bear the consequences of that.
The phone call ended, and moments later, a young woman descended the stairs. “Dad, I’m done with my class. When’s the dance tutor coming?”
Behind her was a bespectacled middle-aged man, refined in appearance, exuding a scholarly air.
“Make sure you revise what I taught you today. I’ll test you on it next time,” he said as he prepared to leave.
Mr. Smith quickly stood up from the couch. “Thank you so much, Mr. Hall, for taking time out of your busy schedule to tutor her. It’s been tough on you!”
He handed Mr. Hall a card in gratitude, but the conversation didn’t end there.
The young lady, visibly annoyed, muttered, “Why isn’t that tutor, Ella, here yet? Late on the first lesson?”
Justin paused, turning back to Mr. Smith, his eyes flashing with curiosity. “The new tutor is called Ella?”
Mr. Smith nodded, his head still throbbing from the stress. “It’s a long story. My assistant mixed up this tutor with another candidate. Ms. Ella is still at Lowe Garden…”
Everyone who had any experience in this world knew that Lowe Garden wasn’t just any location. It was known for being a place where high-class women worked—often executives or, in many cases, escorts.
“I just called the agency and asked them to send another tutor over,” Mr. Smith added, but then he realized something. “Mr. Hall, do you know her?”
Justin smiled. “I do. In fact, her brother is one of my students. From what I know, Ms. Ella is very professional and responsible.”
Mr. Smith’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Since you say so, Ms. Ella must have a good reputation. We’re not in a rush to find another tutor.”
He turned to his daughter. “Go back to your room and play. We’ll reschedule the dance class for another time.”
The young lady cheered and scampered off to her room, and Justin turned back to Mr. Smith. “Where did you say Ms. Ella is right now?”
Meanwhile, in the private room, Stella was feeling increasingly uncomfortable sitting next to Weston. Her back was stiff, her posture rigid. Anyone watching would have noticed how miserable she was.
As soon as she sat down beside him, Weston put out his cigarette, fully aware of how much she disliked the smell. He didn’t want to make things harder for her. The other men in the room followed suit, extinguishing their cigarettes as well, but the drinking and laughter continued unabated.
Stella couldn’t tear her eyes away from the men, playing their games. But soon, she looked down, unable to watch any longer. She tried to convince herself that this wasn’t her problem, but deep down, she felt a growing sense of anxiety.
She had never been in a place like this before. This was the first time she truly felt the weight of being in such a seedy, uncomfortable environment.
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