Emma glided through the crowd, maintaining a smile on her lips as she listened to the empty flattery from the gentlemen around her. One of them, his eyes gleaming with eagerness, handed her a glass of wine. "Come on, Miss Emma, we'd love to see you down this drink!" he said, his tone playful but laced with a challenge.
Emma knew exactly what was happening. Without showing any hesitation, she took the glass, raised it with a charming smile. "Alright, if the gentlemen wish," she said, then downed the drink in one go, under the astonished eyes of the men around her.
Immediately, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd. The men laughed, applauded, as if they had just witnessed a fantastic performance. They showered Emma with compliments, expressing their admiration for her bravery and endurance. Some even continued to offer more drinks, wanting to extend the revelry indefinitely.
But amidst the lively atmosphere, Emma couldn't help but notice the resentful, jealous glances from other women in the room. They looked at her with obvious disdain, sneering and whispering among themselves. Emma could feel their envy, but she didn't care. This was the world she had chosen, where rivalry and pretense were inevitable.
Not missing a beat, Emma accepted a second glass of wine from another man. She raised the glass, smiling at the crowd as she prepared to drink it down like before. But just then, a voice rang out, cutting through the cheerful atmosphere.
"Stop."
The entire crowd turned towards the voice, surprise evident on their faces. Emma did too, but she quickly regained her composure, trying to appear as natural as possible. Stepping out from the shadows of the corner was a tall man, his demeanor composed but carrying an undeniable air of authority. It was Ricard Anderson.
He was walking toward her, his gaze less than friendly. It seemed that what happened at the racetrack this afternoon still bothered him.
Emma frowned slightly, a hint of surprise crossing her mind. According to what she had learned, Ricard was not supposed to attend this party due to personal commitments. His appearance was completely unexpected, forcing her to quickly adjust her plans. But outwardly, she remained calm, the faint smile still on her lips.
Ricard approached, his eyes settling on the glass of wine in Emma's hand. "There's no need to drink any more, Miss Emma," he said, his voice deep and firm. "A woman like you shouldn't lower herself to please others." Ricard's tone carried an unmistakable hint of disdain.
Ricard's words silenced the crowd for a moment, as if they were drawn into the magnetism of his voice. Emma was momentarily taken aback, but she knew she needed to respond wisely. She placed the glass down, smiling gently. "Thank you, Mr. Ricard, but I'm just enjoying the evening," she said, her tone polite.
Ricard felt irritated by her indifferent attitude. It was clear that the woman before him was pretending not to know him.
But that was fine! Even better, as he had no desire to get too involved with this woman! So what if she won a bet?
Perhaps this afternoon was just a stroke of luck for her!
Mr. Meller, who had been standing nearby, quickly stepped forward, trying to diffuse the tension. "Miss Emma, allow me to introduce Mr. Ricard, the CEO of Anderson Corporation. One of the most successful businessmen in the city."
Emma turned to Ricard, hiding her surprise and maintaining her calm demeanor. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ricard," she said, extending her hand. "I've heard much about your accomplishments."
Ricard took her hand, his eyes never leaving Emma's face. "Pleasure to meet you," he responded, emphasizing each word. Although he tried to appear indifferent, he couldn't help but feel irritated by what had happened earlier in the day. He had never lost a bet before, and losing to a woman was even more frustrating!
Ricard's presence altered the atmosphere in the room. The men around, who had been so boisterous, suddenly grew quieter, their faces showing clear respect. Ricard wasn't just a successful businessman; he was also a significant figure in the business world, and his presence made everyone cautious.
Emma, meanwhile, maintained her composure. She pretended that she and Ricard had never met before at the racetrack.
"Thank you, Mr. Ricard," Emma said, withdrawing her hand and maintaining a polite distance. "I look forward to the possibility of working with you in the future. Anderson Corporation has always been a model I admire."
Ricard smiled, but his eyes remained sharp. "We'll see about that, Miss Emma," he said. "But for now, let me offer you a drink, shall I?"
Emma nodded, accepting the glass from Ricard, but this time she only took a small sip, not downing it as before. The game had changed.
Mr. Meller, noticing the tension between Emma and Ricard, quickly attempted to shift the topic. "Both of you are brilliant entrepreneurs. I believe a collaboration between Alens and Anderson could yield excellent results," he said, his voice full of optimism.
Emma nodded in agreement, but internally, she continued to assess the situation. Ricard was not someone who could be easily deceived. He was the most critical piece in the game she was playing.
And while she maintained her smile, Emma began to prepare for her next moves, knowing that tonight might be one of the most decisive nights of her life.
Emma gently extended her hand, offering a warm smile as she looked at Ricard. She knew that a handshake would be the first step toward establishing a good business relationship. However, Ricard made no move to reciprocate. He simply stood there, his gaze cold and unwavering, staring directly at her. Emma's hand hung in the air, the prolonged silence causing the atmosphere to grow awkward.
In that moment, it seemed as though all eyes were on them, the surrounding chatter slowing down, overshadowed by the palpable tension. Emma kept her smile intact. She couldn't afford to appear weak. Just as she was about to withdraw her hand to save face, a man nearby suddenly reached out, as if to shake her hand or at least touch it.
Emma's instincts kicked in, and she quickly pulled her hand back, but immediately, she smoothly pretended that the motion was merely an unconscious gesture as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Sorry," she said, her tone natural and composed. "My hair seems to be a bit messy."
The man standing nearby hesitated for a moment but quickly understood and laughed, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.