Tangled Temptations

At two in the afternoon, Donny came to pick him up.

Once they were in the car, Donny couldn't resist teasing, "You're looking mighty chipper today!"

Brett smirked modestly, "Just a young lady giving me a hard time. Where's the chipper in that? It's more tiring than anything!"

Donny chuckled suggestively.

After the meeting, Brett emerged, his face a dark storm.

Donny approached him, asking in a low voice, "Something wrong?"

"Let's talk in the car."

Once inside, Brett closed the car window curtains before letting out a sigh, "Remember the project from half a year ago?"

Donny's gaze was intense.

Brett quietly undid a button on his shirt, his voice oppressed, "I recommended Merlin Tucker! But today, during the meeting, we got news that Merlin and his wife were killed in an unexplained car crash."

Donny froze, taking a moment to process the information.

Brett lit a cigarette, but his hand was trembling. It took him a while before he could take a drag. What he didn't tell Donny was that the bodies of Merlin and his wife had clear signs of a violent altercation. In the end, Merlin had protected the project data with his life, and that of his wife.

Someone had to take over the project. Brett was the chosen one; he had no choice but to accept the responsibility.

He held the cigarette with shaking hands, slowly inhaling. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. He had planned to propose to Orlena today, with the idea of getting married after the New Year.

But now, could he still do it? The image of Merlin's wife's brutal death lingered in his mind, refusing to leave.

Even though he didn't say it outright, Donny, being a man of the world, had a hunch. He remained silent.

Just then, their black Audi was jolted violently, causing Brett in the back seat to lurch forward.

The car stopped, and a man in black on a bicycle was looking into the car, his gaze piercing through it.

The driver cursed and made to get out of the car.

Brett, fighting a headache, stopped him, "Don't get out!" Getting out would be more dangerous!

Sure enough, after seeing the car not moving, the man rode off.

Donny climbed into the back seat, checking on Brett's injuries, "Mr. Brett, how do you feel?"

Brett, clutching his ribs, seemed to have broken one. His face was expressionless, his voice bitter, "In the short time it took for the meeting, they received news. This overseas company is really audacious!"

He wanted to catch these people and avenge Merlin and his wife, but for now, he had to focus on his own safety.

His phone rang. It was Orlena. Brett hesitated for a moment before answering, speaking softly, "Orlena, something urgent came up in Brockville. I have to go back."

Orlena was understandably disappointed. So was Brett. However, he dared not go to the apartment now. How many eyes were watching him?

He gently soothed her for a moment.

After hanging up, he instructed Donny, "Have someone watch her until she gets home safely."

Donny nodded.

That night, Brett checked into a private hospital in Brockville. A broken rib and a concussion meant he should rest, but he couldn't sleep. He stood by the window smoking, standing there for most of the night.

At four in the morning, Donny came in after handling some matters. He

immediately scolded Brett, who was smoking and standing, "You're seriously injured, and you're still smoking? Go to bed and rest. The doctor said you need at least a week's bed rest."

He helped Brett into bed, continuing, "There's always more work to do."

As he spoke, he noticed the engagement ring in Brett's hand, and fell silent.

Brett leaned against the headboard, a bitter smile on his face, "Look at me, Donny, an old man playing at romance with a young girl! Four years, what will I be like in four years? Orlena, although I always say she's young, she's already 28. In four years, she'll be in her early thirties... She can't afford to wait for me."

He didn't dare to think about what would happen if those people found out about Orlena. He couldn't take that risk!

Donny didn't dare to say a word. He knew Mr. Brett was in a difficult position.

Brett only spent three days in the hospital. The day he was discharged, Orlena called him. He looked at the number for a long time before quietly hanging up.

When he hung up, his heart ached. He thought, his darling girl must think that her Brett doesn't want her anymore.

She would cry, wouldn't she?

...

Brett began to distance himself from her. With his experience, manipulating a young girl was easy. He didn't coldly reject her all at once, but slowly began to ignore her, tormenting her and causing himself a great deal of pain in the process.

After New Year's, he returned to his busy life, reconnecting with Mr. Moreno and his associates.

He was becoming the old Mr. Brett again.

Early spring.

A new year, and Orlena had lost quite a bit of weight. She rarely got through to Brett, and when she did, it was usually Donny who answered. Donny's tone was always apologetic.

Even the most obtuse person could sense his coldness towards her, but she didn't have the courage to confront him. She could only regularly go to his apartment, hopefully waiting for him.

Sometimes she would wait all day, forgetting to eat.

On Valentine's Day, she saw news about Mr. Brett.

He was at Pearl Opera, supporting Ms. Olea. After her performance, Ms. Olea changed into a beautiful dress, and Brett stood by her side with his arm around her waist, looking like a perfect couple.

The newspaper slipped from her hands. So, he was in Peterborough, but didn't come to see her.

Orlena lowered her eyes, tears welling up in the corners, but she still dialed his number. She needed an explanation.

Brett was at the club. When his phone rang, he paused his card game and silently looked at the number.

Mr. Moreno and the others teased him, "What's this? Your little tail has caught up with you again?"

Brett recovered quickly, smiling gracefully, "Just a kid, how long could her interest last?"

He continued to play, casually instructing, "Ms. Olea, could you answer that for me?"

Ms. Olea was a bit confused, but as a woman, she sensed that Mr. Brett had a special relationship with this Orlena. For a while, Mr. Brett had been rather cold towards her, but for some reason, they had recently reconnected.

Only she knew the truth-that his warmth was but a façade. Behind closed doors, he barely touched her.

"Pick up the phone, for goodness' sake!" Brett urged.

With no other choice, Ms. Olea took the call, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. "Oh, Ms. Horigan, how delightful! Brett's out at the club. Why don't you swing by?"

On the other end, Orlena's breathing audibly quickened. After a beat, she hung

up.

Brett's poker hand paused midair for a moment. Then he chuckled, "Kids these days, can't keep their cool for long. Always calling... so annoying."

His laughter was chilling, his eyes cold.

As the night wore on, he got into his car. "Where to, Mr. Brett?" Donny asked in a hushed tone.

Brett stared out the window, lost in thought. Finally, he muttered, "Let's swing by the apartment."noveldrama

In the dead of night, he returned to the place that once held such sweet memories. As expected, Orlena was still there. She had fallen asleep at the dining table. The stains of tears still wet on her cheeks.

Brett stood in the doorway, his heart aching for her. How long had she been

waiting for him? Why hadn't she gone to bed?

He moved towards her, picking her up gently. But she stirred at his touch. Her

eyes, brimming with tears, stared at him in confusion.

She mouthed his name, tears spilling over. But she didn't dare make a sound, just

kept looking at him, pleading for an explanation.

Brett's heart twisted. He settled her on the couch, gently stroking her hair. His

voice was soft. "Orlena, stop waiting for me."

She looked at him blankly, a bit confused.

Brett steeled himself, maintaining his smile. "I'm getting old, Orlena. I don't do well with stable relationships. I'm not a good man."

Understanding dawned on her, but she didn't want to believe it. She had been loved by this dashing, mature man. He had even taken her to meet his mother in Brockville. They had shared intimate moments in his bedroom.

Her lips trembled as she whispered, "I don't believe it!"

Brett sat beside her, lighting up a cigarette. The smoke filled the room, blurring

their vision.

He let out a soft laugh, "It's been six months, Orlena. I've grown tired. Maybe you don't understand. Relationships, they lose their spark after a few months. Do you really think we're meant to get married? Look at our cultural backgrounds, our social circles... Do you think we're a good fit?"

Orlena's face went pale. She gathered all her strength to keep from fainting. All she could do was stare at him, the man she loved. His demeanor was the same as when he was with Ms. Olea.

So, he had been just toying with her, just like with Ms. Olea. No, even worse. At least he went back to Ms. Olea. But her calls went unanswered.

Orlena sat there, motionless. She wasn't the argumentative type. She loved him

too much to make a scene. She couldn't act out like before, swallow three

sleeping pills, and have him fuss over her.

She could do nothing...

Brett moved to the window, smoking

in silence. He spoke about compensation, about thanking here for her companionship over the past six months. But she didn't respond. She sat there like a doll, shedding silent tears, stubbornly hoping that he would turn around, embrace her, and tell her it was all a cruel joke.

The night grew colder.

Finally, she spoke softly. "Rest assured, Mr. Brett, I won't bother you."

Brett turned to face her. Under the dim light, their eyes met, devoid of the

sweetness they once held.

Just a short while ago, she had been playfully nibbling at him, calling his name

while he tugged at her hair, telling her to stop.

She left.

Tears streamed down her face as

she walked out. With her innocent nature, she didn't bother to hide her sorrow. She didn't demand any explanations, seemingly accepting the ending, accepting the fact that

Brett didn't want her.

The door closed softly behind her.

Brett's eyes glistened. His hands trembling, he took a drag from his cigarette.

Later, he sat at the dining table. In front of him was a bowl of spaghetti, poorly cooked probably Orlena's work.

He picked up the fork and began eating, finishing the bowl quickly.

Then, then... He didn't know what to do.

Without Orlena, the apartment felt empty. He didn't know why he came, or what

he could do...