After pondering for a short while, Matteo replied, "Mr. Dixon had wrapped up a meeting yesterday and hurried back to Berton. Then, he headed to the market for some seafood. Once he headed to your house and found you weren't there, he checked and found out you had gone to Ashfield. He then dashed off to Ashfield..."

Raegan pieced it together. So, Mitchel was in Ashfield when they talked via phone last night. Perhaps he even saw Stefan. So, he was mad and chose to ignore her messages and calls. He went to this club instead of her place since he was still annoyed.

“Miss Foster, please don't leave yet. How about I arrange a room for you to wait..." Matteo suggested.

“There's no need for that," Raegan cut in and strode into the chamber elegantly.

When Raegan first laid eyes on the scene inside the chamber, she hesitated, wanting to leave. She couldn't find the courage within herself to walk in and ask Mitchel.

Yet, Matteo's words had given her a new perspective. If Mitchel was mad due to his misunderstanding about the previous night, it needed to be cleared up.

As soon as Raegan stepped in, Mitchel's gaze was locked on her. She donned a classic little red dress with slender black straps, looking exceptionally charming.

Mitchel let out a dismissive snort. The nights in Ardlens were still chilly, but Raegan appeared indifferent to the cold.

Mitchel hadn't accepted the drink from the woman beside him. Instead, he grabbed a nearby glass and finished it in one gulp.

"Didn't you just say you can get Mr. Dixon to drink your glass?" Mr. Ortega teased the woman beside Mitchel, "If he doesn't drink, you'll have to undress yourself..."

The woman, looking pitiful, tugged at Mitchel's sleeve and pleaded, “Mr. Dixon, do you really want to see me undress? Can't you show a bit of mercy?"

While she talked, she leaned in closer to Mitchel, the thin fabric of her dress barely concealing her form. She was using all her charms to seduce Mitchel.

In her view, winning over Mitchel was all that mattered, even if it meant undressing herself. Her friends had all prospered similarly, enjoying lavish lifestyles since then.

The woman hadn't settled yet because she was choosy, unwilling to compromise for just any affluent man. Yet, Mitchel checked all her boxes. He was handsome, well-built, and exuded a subtle naughtiness that was utterly captivating. She vowed to charm him over.

When Mitchel remained detached, the woman rolled her eyes secretly, intending to employ her usual tactics. Her grip on the glass of wine tilted slightly, making it appear she "accidentally" spilled the drink on his pants. Only then could she make advances on him. She smirked, thinking no men could resist being dabbed the spill away with her chest.

But before the woman could pour the wine on Mitchel's pants, a slender, graceful hand stopped her.

Raegan, approaching from the side, gently interjected, “Let's be careful not to spill the drink, miss."

The woman was at a loss for words. Irritated, she wondered about Raegan's identity, daring to interfere with her schemes. “Are you new around here? Don't you know how things work here? Who gave you the right to interfere?"

Raegan responded calmly, “I noticed your hand shaking violently and wondered if you were dealing with Parkinson's Mr. Ortega couldn't contain his amusement and burst into laughter.

What a way to interpret the situation!