Chapter 22

Scarlett POV

"Get in," Alexander's voice came through the car window, cutting sharply through my eardrums.

Looking at his cold, handsome face, I used my last bit of strength to climb into the car, collapsing onto the soft leather seat.

Noah, seeing this, smoothly accelerated away.

Through the rearview mirror, I saw George who had just gotten out of his car. He stood at the hotel entrance, his expression anxious and worried.

A deep sense of shame and loss overwhelmed me—I was always in such a wretched state in front of him. Why did fate always play such cruel tricks on me?

The car's interior lighting was dim, and the partition to the front had already been raised, but I could still make out Noah's silhouette in the front seat.

I pressed myself against the door, trying to stay as far away from Alexander as possible, though in my current state, the distance felt far from enough.

"Miss Smith, what act are you putting on now?" Alexander's voice carried a hint of amusement as he watched me from his end of the seat.

"Why is it you again?" I managed to say, my words slightly slurred.

The drug was potent; my skin felt too tight, too hot, every sensation amplified to an almost unbearable degree.

Alexander tilted his head, studying me like an interesting specimen.

"Is the drug taking effect?" He took out his phone. "You look quite worth documenting in this state."

"Don't you dare," I said harshly.

"If you're so uncomfortable, why did you jump out of the car?"

Alexander asked, ignoring my protest as he adjusted his phone's camera angle. "Don't you like George ?"

Even though we both knew the truth, I couldn't admit it. I tried to lunge for the phone, but he easily dodged while grabbing my wrist with his free hand.

"Twice," his hand locked around me like a vise, his hot breath fanning against my ear, making the tide of desire within me surge even stronger.

"Twice you've fallen exactly where I expected you to."

Alexander's words sent chills down my spine.

Was everything within his calculations?

"Let me go!" I tried to break free, but my strength was fading by the second, leaving only weakness and an indescribable burning sensation.

"Are you playing hard to get?" Alexander's voice was low. He leaned in extremely close, with a hint of dangerous allure.

This intimate distance made my heart race violently, whether from fear or some other more complex emotion.

"Let go!" I repeated, but my voice was so weak I could barely hear it myself.

Alexander displayed a sardonic smile. "The expression on your face is interesting. Are you thinking that if you'd known it was me, you would have been better off with George?"

His words wounded my pride, making me angrier.

"You arranged it, didn't you? That man in the hallway—"

"Scarlett!" Alexander's voice cut me off, suddenly sharp. "Look clearly at who I am before saying such things!"

His sudden outburst surprised me, making me look at him, but the scene inside the car was already beginning to twist and distort before my eyes.

Alexander's features began to transform in my vision.

His piercing blue eyes softened into George's warm brown ones, his angular face becoming gentler, more familiar.

"Who are you?" I whispered, reaching out with trembling fingers to touch his face. "George... I need you..."

Darkness rushed in like a tide, engulfing all my senses.

In my unconscious state, I felt like I was hugging a block of ice, that cool sensation the only comfort in my burning fever.

Suddenly, cold water was thrown forcefully onto me, making me reflexively cry out in shock, my consciousness instantly clearing.

"Stop!" I shouted, blinking rapidly to try to make my vision clear.

The water had just stopped when I felt an unbearable heat surging up again from within my body.

Where was I? Looking around, I was lying in a bathtub, with decor typical of a hotel.

A man was sitting on the edge of the bathtub with his back to me, apparently smoking.

His familiar movements reminded me of what had happened in the car.

At that time, I seemed to have seen George, and then my body couldn't withstand the drug and I passed out.

Alexander was wearing only pants, his muscular upper body bare.

His expression was mocking as he looked at me through the mirror opposite the bathtub, those blue eyes appearing particularly profound in the light.

The cigar smoke mixed with the steam from the shower, creating an ambiguous atmosphere.

"Can't handle a little cold water?"he asked, his voice full of mockery.

"Mr. Gray..." I managed to speak, my voice unsteady.

"How long?" Alexander asked casually, taking a deep drag from his cigar, his sapphire-like eyes watching me.

"Since dinner began," I said, referring to when I was drugged.

Alexander's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's not what I'm asking."

He flicked his finger to tap away the ash. "I mean how long has the old man been doing this to you?"

His question hit directly at the secret I was most unwilling to touch, a chill rushing through my blood, even diluting the heat from the drug.

How much did Alexander know about Richard's "special preferences"?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying to make my voice sound calm, but even I could hear the tremor in it.

Alexander gave a knowing smile.

"It seems my uncle's tastes haven't changed in a decade. No wonder..." he left the sentence unfinished, observing my reaction.

I turned my face away, unwilling to let him see the shame and pain in my eyes.

Those memories I didn't want to remember came flooding back like a tide—Richard's cold touch, those restraints and commands, that fear of being completely controlled...

"Mr. Gray, my body feels both cold and hot, can you take me to a hospital?" I was shaking even as I said this.

I didn't want to stay with Alexander any longer; he always reminded me of how disgraceful I was.

Alexander raised one eyebrow, leisurely taking another puff of his cigar.

"Oh? I thought Miss Smith wanted something else." His gaze slowly swept over my body, from my wet, clinging shirt to my trembling legs, almost tangible.

"Mr. Gray, thank you for your help tonight." I hugged my arms. "Considering I'm your uncle's future—"

"What?" Alexander's tone suddenly turned icy.

"I thought," I hesitated, "I could leave now."

The plea in my words sounded foreign even to myself; this wasn't something the independent Scarlett would say, but at this moment, I no longer had the strength to maintain that strong image.

Alexander looked at his watch. "Nine minutes," he said flatly. "You have nine minutes to clean yourself up."

He pushed away from the sink and walked toward the bathroom door. "We'll talk after you come out."

I froze for a moment, then hurriedly removed my soaked clothes.

With trembling hands, I turned on the switch, letting hot water flow over my entire body.

I needed to stay clear-headed to find a way out of here, but the persistent heat in my body made it difficult to concentrate.

Each time the "drug" took effect, it usually took twenty-four hours to metabolize completely in my system.

When I walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a bathrobe, Alexander was lounging on the bed.

The white silk sheets highlighted his well-proportioned muscles and tanned skin, making him look like a Greek sculpture, both elegant and powerful.

However, what caught my attention were the items placed beside him—leather restraints, a silk blindfold, and other tools whose purpose I could only guess at.

These things reminded me of Richard's "special hobbies," and a deep fear crawled up my spine.

My steps faltered; earlier I had thought about leaving here, but now these items completely shattered my wishful thinking.

Alexander turned to look at me. "Come here," he commanded, his voice brooking no refusal.

I remained frozen at the bathroom door, my thoughts racing. I could rush toward the suite door, but would my legs support me that far?

Even if they could, where would I go? Wearing only a bathrobe, with no money, no phone, my body still under the influence of drugs?

"Are you going to choose for yourself, or do you want me to help you choose?"