At seven in the evening, the Royalton Club was already bustling with activity. Isabella Weaver had changed into the uniform of the service staff and was pushing a three-tier trolley delivering fruit trays to each room.
Walking alongside her was a girl with a delicate appearance named Cora Ginger, but Cora's cart contained chilled beer.
During the day, the club hosted various formal meetings and receptions, maintaining a serious and dignified atmosphere. At night, it catered to informal gatherings and parties, lively and bustling.
"Miss Irene was tipped ten thousand just now; I'm so jealous! What she earns in one night equals my salary for half a year. If only I were prettier!"
Cora Ginger whispered in Isabella's ear, "Actually, I think you could change your position. Being a service staff is tough and has no future. You're even more beautiful than Miss Irene; surely many big shots would be willing to tip you!"
Isabella had heard this kind of talk from her more than ten times in the past month she had been here. Initially, she would refute and explain, but now she couldn't be bothered to respond.
Her silence did not diminish Cora Ginger's desire to confide, "Last month, our top beauty, Sister Scent, was directly kept by a tycoon. She doesn't come to work anymore and is said to be marrying next month. She'll be a rich wife and never worry about food or clothes again!"
"Isabella, really, Sister Scent isn't even as pretty as you. Stop being so stubborn. Be smart when delivering fruit trays, smile more. Your smile is so beautiful; someone might notice you and take you home as their wife!"
Isabella shook her head with great resignation, "I neither sell art nor sell myself. I don't drink nor flatter. Stop being so stubborn; being a service staff is just fine."
Cora Ginger sighed heavily, "Ah, my alcohol tolerance is weak too, such a pity! Miss Irene can down a whole bottle in one go, drink over ten bottles a night without getting drunk, keeping the guests happy, that's why she can earn so much."
As she spoke, she took out a pocket-sized mirror to check her appearance, tidied her hair, and then went to knock on the door to deliver the beer.
Isabella had her head down, carried the fruit tray, and followed inside.
This room was a bit different from the others; the music wasn't loud, with soothing piano tunes flowing from the speakers, instantly giving the impression that the host was a person of elegance.
The room was spacious, with a few couples sitting here and there on the reddish-brown leather sofas; only the man in the main seat was sitting alone.
As soon as Isabella saw him, she froze for a moment, then quickly lowered her head, pretending not to see him.
But it was too late.
Harry Hunter stood up with his glass and walked to Isabella's side, "Come over and have a few drinks with me!"
Isabella didn't even lift her head and was about to leave after putting down the fruit tray.
The lesson from the morning was still fresh in her memory; how could she fall into the trap again!
Harry Hunter grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, "Why are you running? Afraid I'm going to ask you for money?"
His movements were so big that it drew everyone's attention in the room, instantly making Isabella the focus. Cora Ginger's eyes widened in shock, her jaw almost dropping.
She dressed up and applied makeup meticulously every day, her smile flawless, yet no one paid attention to her.
Isabella, without makeup or dressing up, and always with a cold face, surprisingly had people asking for her contact information every day. Today, this guy was even more direct, grabbing her!
Could it be that the ice-cold beauty is the trend nowadays?
But Miss Irene didn't teach her that way; Miss Irene said men liked gentle and considerate ones, those who listened and flattered them.
Who should she believe?