Suddenly, a large hand shot out from the shadows, grabbing Vivian’s arm and yanking her away from the edge of the balcony.
Felicity, who had just shoved Vivian with all her strength, found her hands grasping at empty air. Her balance gave way, and she pitched forward.
“Aaah!!”
She barely had time to scream before she tumbled right over the waist–high railing, plummeting into the thick shrubs below.
The garden beneath the terrace was pitch–black.
As Felicity crashed into the bushes, her cries echoed through the dark, a mix of pain and fury.
Clayton glanced down at her, a faintly mocking smile curling his lips. “She’ll live,” he muttered.
He turned away from Felicity without another thought, crouching down beside Vivian, who jumped at his sudden nearness. Right now, she was as skittish as a
startled fawn.
Clayton flicked on his phone’s flashlight. Without hesitation, he reached for her injured knee and began pulling out the shards of glass embedded in her skin, one by one.
Vivian trembled all over, every tiny movement sending a wave of pain through her legs, leaving them weak and unsteady.
Clayton worked quickly, dropping each bloodied piece of glass onto the tile with a sharp, clear sound.
Then, Vivian heard the rip of fabric.
Clayton tore the hem from his dress shirt, biting one end and ripping it into makeshift strips.
He used the clean cloth to wrap and bind the wound on her knee, doing his best to keep the open cut from getting any dirtier.
“Someone help! Is anyone out there? Where’s my phone?!”
Felicity’s voice came from the darkness below. She’d managed to catch her breath after the fall, but her body was stiff and aching, every movement sending fresh pain
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through her limbs.
She called out for help, but the garden was silent–no one answered.
Still dazed, Felicity was convinced that Vivian had deliberately dodged her push. She hadn’t noticed the man in the shadows, the one who’d been smoking quietly on the far side of the terrace.
Vivian, meanwhile, was startled to realize that Clayton didn’t seem interested in helping Felicity at all.
If anything, his attention was fixed entirely on Vivian.
His blood–streaked fingers caught her chin, and he leaned in, his tall frame pressing her back against the railing.
He studied her with a look of intense curiosity, like a child encountering some rare and fascinating creature.
Pinned beneath him, Vivian struggled, her chest tight with panic. Just as she opened her mouth to protest, he grabbed her fist in his hand.
Her heart hammered wildly.
Clayton’s long, powerful fingers pried her hand open, one delicate finger at a time, ignoring her resistance. A sharp–edged shard of glass was hidden in her palm, its tip embedded deep in her flesh.
Her palm was a bloody mess.
The night breeze carried the scent of blood to her nose. She bit back tears, eyes wide and unblinking, face tense with pain and fear.
She looked up at Clayton, furious and defiant, like a cornered deer ready to fight
back.
Something in her stubborn glare reminded him of someone else.
He gave her a wicked grin.
In that moment, Vivian understood–Clayton hadn’t saved her; he’d saved Felicity! If he hadn’t yanked Vivian away in time, Felicity’s throat would’ve been slashed open by the glass she was holding.
“You’re cute,” Clayton said, his voice full of mockery. “But I wonder what you taste like.”
Before she could react, he pressed his lips to hers, claiming a kiss with a hungry
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Chapter 169
insistence.
His warm breath brushed her face as he pulled away.
“If you come with me,” he murmured, “I’ll make sure no one ever finds out what happened tonight.”
He was the kind of devil who toyed with innocent girls for his own amusement.
Vivian’s eyes flew open wide. “Go… with you?”
