Chapter 8

Heather's job was simple—all she had to do was make drinks. Sometimes, she'd even get tips. That, coupled with her basic salary, meant she earned quite a sum each month.

After making a drink, she put the mixer down and headed to the restroom after informing a colleague. As she passed a corridor, someone threw their arms around her from behind.

It scared her. She turned to see a balding middle-aged man behind her. Her expression changed, and she started struggling. "Let me go, Mr. Waylon!"

"Oh, I've missed you so much, my darling Hattie. You smell so good! C'mon, let me hold you…" Bob Waylon leaned close to her. He reeked of alcohol.

He was a regular at the Red Rose and in his 50s. He salivated at the sight of Heather and had on more than one occasion indicated his interest in having her as his mistress. Heather had avoided him at all costs before today, but it looked like there was no getting away this time.

She was disgusted by his proximity to her but didn't dare to offend him o