Chapter 11
Wendy hadn’t expected him to come home. He was dressed in a sleek black suit, tailored perfectly to his tall frame, still carrying the crisp chill of the winter night on the expensive fabric.
She instinctively leaned closer, seeking solace in his cool, composed presence.
“Stanley, help me…” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Before she could say more, Stanley pushed her back gently but firmly, his brows furrowing. “What’s wrong with you?”
Wendy hesitated, biting her lip. She couldn’t believe she had almost begged him for help. “I’ve been drugged,” she admitted softly.
‘Drugged?’
Stanley’s expression darkened. This woman was always in trouble.
“Wait here,” he commanded.
Striding to the window, he pulled out his phone and made a call. His tall figure was framed by the night sky, one hand loosening his tie with effortless elegance. The loosened knot, paired with his cold demeanor, gave him an irresistible, rebellious charm.
Wendy didn’t dare to look at him any longer.
Benny soon picked up the call. “Stanley! What’s up?”
“I have a question. What do I do when a woman is drugged?”
Benny laughed excitedly as if he’d just heard some gossip. “Is Jessica in trouble? If so, you know what to do—step in and save the day!”
“Say something helpful,” Stanley uttered.
“Fine, fine. If a woman’s been drugged, she should take a cold shower. It’s rough, but it works. Otherwise, well… It could get serious.”
Stanley ended the call and turned to Wendy. “Can you manage a cold shower?”
Wendy nodded weakly, her face flushed. “I can try.”
Without saying another word, she hurried to the bathroom.
Stanley removed his jacket, draping it over a chair. Just as he began to roll up his sleeves, a sharp cry came from the bathroom.
“Ahh!”
His jaw tightened in irritation as he strode to the door. “What now?”
Inside, Wendy stood under the shower, her thin camisole clinging to her slender frame. Her delicate shoulders and collarbone glistened under the bathroom light. The shower wasn’t turned on yet. She was touching her forehead with a pained look in her eyes.
“I hit my head,” she whimpered, tears threatening to spill.
Stanley’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. After pulling her hand away, he saw the red mark on her forehead.
“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.
“I’m not stupid,” she retorted weakly. “I’m dizzy…”
“Stand still.”
‘What?’
Before she could react, Stanley turned on the shower.
Ice-cold water poured down, drenching Wendy instantly. She gasped, instinctively throwing herself against him.
“It’s too cold! I can’t!” she protested, trembling. Her body pressed tightly against him, soaking his white shirt and black slacks.
He had no choice but to back away from her. The two stood under the cold shower together.
Wendy felt very warm. She was like a fish out of water and desperately needed moisture. She began to fidget, her hands brushing against his waist.
Stanley was a normal guy, and he tensed up immediately.
“Wendy, what are you doing with your hands?”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Six-pack abs,” she murmured with wonder in her voice.
Stanley was speechless.
Her gaze lifted to his face. “So handsome too,” she uttered while admiring his good looks.
Stanley reached out and directly pushed Wendy against the cold wall. He gulped before issuing a warning in a slightly hoarse voice, “Behave yourself!”
Wendy smiled. “Wow, so strong. I like it.”
Stanley grabbed the showerhead and aimed it at her flushed face to help her sober up.
“Ahh!” Wendy protested, struggling to bat his hand away. “Stanley, if Jessica were the one drugged, would you have helped her?”
Stanley froze. “What?”
Wendy’s long lashes, damp with mist, trembled stubbornly. “Because it’s me, you’re making me take a cold shower. None of you like me!”
Stanley noticed her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying earlier.
Suddenly, Wendy lunged forward and bit his Adam’s apple.
Stanley hadn’t expected this. The throat was one of a man’s most vulnerable and sensitive areas. Her sharp teeth sank in hard, and his narrow eyes instantly filled with bloodshot intensity. Even his lower back tingled.
‘This damn woman!’
Stanley wrapped his arm around her waist. It was so soft, like a willow bending in the wind, fragile enough to break with one snap. Her waist was slim—barely 20 inches. His thumb and forefinger could nearly encircle it.
With her slender legs and narrow waist, Stanley realized she was gorgeous.
His breath grew unsteady. He grabbed her face, prying her off. Her blushing, palm-sized face fit entirely in his hand. Frustrated, he gripped her and cursed, “Do you love biting things?”
Wendy had little rationality left. The alcohol, combined with the effects of the drug, was making her weak.
Her eyes shimmered with tears, and it looked like she might cry.
Stanley froze and immediately withdrew his hand.
But Wendy clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite you. Does it hurt?”
Before he could answer, Stanley felt something soft on his throat—she kissed him.
A flicker of light danced in Stanley’s eyes.
Her kisses moved upward, landing on his neck and leaving red marks along his strong jawline.
The little beast that had just bared her teeth now behaved like a gentle kitten, snuggling in his arms and kissing him all over.
“Have you and Jessica done it before?” Wendy asked.
Stanley’s eyes darkened.
She stood on tiptoe, her glistening eyes fixed on his thin lips. “Stanley, I’ve been drugged. I’m still your wife. Won’t you help me?”
Stanley’s large hand gripped her slender waist. Her delicate, vase-like figure made him want to hold her tighter.
Wendy slowly leaned in, her lips moving closer to his.
Stanley didn’t pull away.
The two grew closer and closer, their lips about to meet.
At that moment, a melodic ringtone interrupted them—a phone call.
Stanley pulled his phone out of his pocket, and the screen displayed two words.
‘Jessica Crone.’
Jessica was calling.
