Backstage Trap - Chapter 2

“I enjoy giving young people opportunities. You’re a hotel owner yourself, after all. You should have the chance to learn properly.”

“Please, make yourself comfortable during your stay. You’re busier than most people because of your other businesses, aren’t you? Though I suppose some would call that gambling rather than business.”

The invitation had come from none other than Banks, the owner of the Tinelli Hotel.

The memory grated on Killian’s nerves.

‘That old fox didn’t invite me out of goodwill.’

This was a performance—a demonstration that they came from fundamentally different worlds. A chance for Killian to stay in the Tinelli and compare it with his own vulgar hotel attached to a casino.

It was their refined way of insulting him.

Still—

“Are you truly all right with this?”

“Of course. It’s not as though I’m losing anything.”

Unlike those who had been wealthy for generations, their petty attempts at intimidation were almost ridiculously harmless to a man who had grown up in the slums.

Killian intended to make full use of the opportunity Banks had given him.

“The women?”

“They should arrive around the hour.”

Tonight, Killian had invited seven women to the hotel.

They were the kind of moths drawn to a flame, women who knew exactly what sort of man he was and still threw themselves at him, desperate for the chance to spend even one night in his bed.

“If it’s those women, making Chairman Banks clutch the back of his neck in outrage won’t be difficult.”

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have given such crazy women a second glance.

But if they could make Banks furious? Offering up his body for a night was a small price to pay.

“And security?”

“We’ve already bought off some of the guards and front desk staff.”

The Tinelli Hotel prided itself on being a place where not just anyone could stay, but breaching its security was effortless for a man like Killian.

Tonight, he intended to host an orgy with seven women. Solely to shock the hotel owner who had looked down on him.

If a debauched party broke out in the supposedly elegant social haven known as the Tinelli Hotel…

Just imagining the expression on Banks’s face made the corners of Killian’s lips curl upward.

“On top of that, isn’t the old bastard too old to get it up anymore?”

Derek coughed loudly, trying to cover the crude remark before anyone else could hear.

A few nearby guests had clearly caught it anyway and looked at Killian with visible disgust. He didn’t care.

“I’d pay good money to see his face when he finds a bed soaked in c*m.”

The coughing from across the table grew even louder.

“Sir Killian, at this rate my throat is going to tear apart.”

“How boring.”

“I’m doing this for the sake of your reputation.”

Killian raised an eyebrow in annoyance.

That damned reputation…

As far as he was concerned, making money was all that mattered. Still, seeing how worried his overly serious secretary was, he decided to ease up and picked up his whiskey glass again.

“Then what exactly did you mean when you said something was interesting?”

In response to Derek’s question, Killian pointed behind him with the hand holding the glass.

“I wasn’t talking about the hotel.”

“Pardon?”

“I meant over there.”

“Over there?”

“Turn around.”

Derek looked behind him and spotted a couple seated at the table directly behind theirs.

Unlike the other couples dining in the restaurant, there was something distinctly different about them.

Every other table seemed to be displaying happiness, smiles plastered across their faces. Those two looked as though they were attending a funeral. Their expressions were bleak.

Killian’s gaze drifted back to the woman.

Though her hair was as red as wine, her face seemed dry and lifeless. A shadow lingered around her eyes, with a sense of desolation.

She looked pitiful, like someone standing at the edge of a cliff.

“Your type?”

“Who knows. A face like that isn’t really a matter of taste.”

Derek glanced at him, clearly not understanding.

At that exact moment, as if she had been waiting for the perfect cue, the woman finally spoke.

“Ian.”

The instant she opened her mouth, the luxurious hotel once again became a stage built solely for her. Every guest seemed to hold their breath. They had all become an audience.

Then came the line that perfectly rewarded their anticipation.

“Let’s get a divorce.”

The words were surprisingly pleasant to hear. Killian burst out laughing and gladly accepted his role as a spectator.

“See? I told you it was interesting.”

Thanks to the unexpectedly captivating drama unfolding before him, he never got around to drinking his whiskey.