The waiter gazes at Arya for a few more moments before silently departing toward the counter where he whispers to an older man with silver hair, clad in an elegant black suit. The man glances over at her several times before rising and approaching her.
"Ms. Arya, I must apologize for my employee's unacceptable conduct. I own this establishment; Edgar Razef is my name," the man says with charm.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Edgar. Arya Lewis," she replies as they shake hands.
"Well, usually, when Kilam gets like this, I take him home myself, but as you can see, the bar is quite busy tonight. We've called everyone possible, and you were our last hope."
"That's alright. I am his personal assistant, after all; these things happen," she says out of politeness while following him, rolling her eyes at the disdainful stares from others.
"My nephew rarely does this, so don't worry, it's not something you'll see often, especially since his life is pretty much all about work," he chuckles.
They reach a secluded corner with a sofa where Kilam sits with a scowl; he looks at her incredulously before rolling his eyes.
"I'm not drunk, I can drive myself home perfectly fine," he says curtly.
"Stop it, boy. She's taking you, and there'll be no complaint," Edgar reprimands.
"Great, what about my car?"
"Don't worry, mine's in the shop. As I'm without an SUV, I’ll use yours until mine's ready," Edgar announces with a broad grin.
"No way, uncle. You're not wrecking my car."
"Selfish kid, you probably have three more cars like this one, and it's not even your most expensive one. Don't be ungrateful; your mother didn’t raise you to be stingy. You’re just like your father."
"Fine, consider it a gift. Just don't say I'm like him again," Kilam concedes with a slight smile.
"Come along, Arya. I suppose they woke you for this," he says, standing up.
"Yes, I was in a blissful dream, comfortably lying under my blankets," she retorts sarcastically.
"You must have been dreaming about me, if it was that good," he whispers close to her face.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Hope to see you again under better circumstances; you'll be my guest," Edgar interjects, breaking the tension.
"Likewise, I'll be sure to return," they say their goodbyes and head to the car.
"Why did you come?" he asks, peering out the window.
"Simple, no one else answered the call. I was the only one," she replies without looking at him.
"My fiance would never miss this chance. Maybe no one called her," he suggests with a cynical smile.
"Then call her and find out. I'm curious too," Arya says as she keeps her focus on the road.
He makes the call, but it goes to voicemail.
She glances at him for a few seconds, smirking with an 'I told you so' expression, then looks forward again. He pockets his phone, rests his head back, and after a while of deadly silence, she looks again to find Kilam asleep. She smiles subtly but shakes her head to resist his peaceful, attractive expression.
"Hey, Mr. Pagan, we're at your house, I think," she shakes him, but he doesn't awake.
"I must be atoning for my sins with a boss like this," she frowns in frustration.
"If you don't wake up now, I’ll push you out and leave. I'm serious. My patience is nearing its end, so wake up," her voice rising with irritation.
"Okay, I'm awake, no need for hostility," he responds with a mocking smile.
"Hurry up, I need to get home. There’s much work tomorrow, and I expect a nice bonus for this chauffeur and babysitting service."
"Don't worry, you'll be handsomely rewarded for tonight," he opens the door and stumbles out, almost falling.
She gets out to help him into the house. Near the couch, he falls onto her, their gazes lock, and breathing becomes heavy. She glances at his lips for a moment before he kisses her fiercely, and she reciprocates. After they part, she pushes him onto the floor, prompting laughter. She glares furiously.
"If this ever happens again, I'll sue you for harassment," she warns before turning to leave quickly.
She gets into the car and drives off rapidly, while Kilam lies on the floor, still laughing.
"She wanted it too, kissing back just as eagerly. We'll see how long Ms. Lewis pretends she doesn't desire me," he muses before heading to bed after a shower.
Arya sits in her car outside her mother's house, fingers tracing her lips, remembering the kiss, questioning her inability to resist, her body's betrayal of reason.
"Kilam Pagan, I despise you," she mutters, tapping the steering wheel before resting her forehead on it, admitting despite herself, "He is a great kisser."
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