Chapter 2
Winston's Perspective
I never imagined that after all these years, I'd see her again in a place like this.
I received the news that evening.
Leon pushed open my office door—unusually, without knocking first. The look on his face told me something serious had happened.
"Serena caught Leo with Tiffany at the club."
That was all he said.
My hand paused for perhaps half a second as I set down my pen. Then I closed the acquisition agreement in front of me—a deal worth three billion dollars.
My assistant beside me opened her mouth, about to remind me of the two meetings still on my evening schedule. She met my eyes and said nothing, quietly retreating from the room.
I canceled everything.
From age eight to eighteen—a full decade. I knew her too well. She would rather endure alone until she collapsed than ask anyone for help.
So after discovering the truth about Leo and Tiffany, she wouldn't go home. She wouldn't cry on someone's shoulder. The question was: where would she go?
I had Leon track her vehicle's GPS.
The signal was stationary outside a bar in downtown Los Angeles.
It was nearly eleven by the time I arrived.
The bar was dimly lit, music and voices blending into an indistinguishable wall of noise. My people had already gone in ahead to scout the situation, and when they saw me, their expressions were grim.
"Boss, Miss Serena... she's been cornered."
I didn't wait for them to finish before pushing through the bar's entrance.
The crowd seemed to sense something instinctively and parted to either side.
My gaze swept past the retreating faces and landed directly on the far corner of the bar counter.
Three men had her surrounded.
One had his arm around her shoulders, his fingers roaming indecently near her collarbone. Another had a cigarette dangling from his lips, blowing smoke directly into her face. The third held a glass, its rim pressed against her lips, liquid spilling down her chin and soaking into the neckline of her dress.
Serena was slumped against the bar, eyes half-open, pupils so dilated they could barely find focus. Her cheeks and neck were flushed an unnatural red, her entire body limp as a bird with broken wings—she didn't even have the strength to struggle.
She'd been drugged.
The moment that conclusion formed in my mind, the temperature of my blood dropped below freezing.
I walked toward her.
The man with his arm around her shoulders noticed me first. When he looked up, that sleazy grin was still plastered across his face—then it froze solid the instant he recognized me. His hand jerked away from Serena's shoulder as if he'd been burned.
I didn't spare him a glance. I bent down and lifted Serena into my arms.
Her body temperature was dangerously high—like heated metal pressed against my chest, the heat burning straight through my shirt. She let out the faintest moan in my arms.
Before turning to leave, I caught Leon's eye.
He understood instantly, gave me a nod, then walked toward the three men.
In the car, Serena was restless in my arms.
Her consciousness was hazy, but her body seemed to have a will of its own. She writhed against me ceaselessly, her flush so deep it reached her earlobes, her skin burning like she'd been pulled from boiling water.
I tightened my arms, trying to hold her still.
But the movement only drew her closer. Her thigh grazed my hip, her knee pressing directly against my groin. My breath caught. I went hard instantly.
When we reached the hotel, I laid her on the bed.
The moment she left my arms, Serena let out a small sound of protest. She curled up on the sheets, breathing rapid and erratic, her body rolling restlessly, fingers clutching the bedsheets then releasing, knees drawing up then straightening.
Her dress was hopelessly wrinkled, one strap having slipped off her shoulder, revealing a wide expanse of skin so pale it was nearly translucent—her shoulder, her collarbone.
That was when the knock came.
Three steady raps.
"Sir, the doctor has arrived."
I stepped out of the room and left Serena in the care of the doctor and his assistant.
The moment the door closed, I leaned against the wall, eyes shut, forcing my breathing back under control, pressing down everything in my chest that had no right to be there.
She'd been drugged. She was unconscious. But I had reacted while fully aware of what was happening.
After all these years, she was still the only one who could do this to me.
Within minutes, the door opened again. It was the doctor's assistant who emerged. "Sir," she said, her tone grave, "it's a powerful aphrodisiac compound. Simple metabolic dilution would be far too slow—the effects could persist for over six hours, placing extreme strain on the heart and nervous system. Miss Serena's heart rate is already highly unstable. The doctor recommends... allowing the body to fully release the reaction. Otherwise the consequences could be irreversible."
Irreversible.
The word drove into my temple like a nail.
I pushed the door open and saw Serena on the bed. It felt like a fist had closed around my heart.
She was thrashing on the mattress, her clothing nearly torn away by her own hands. Her dress was bunched around her waist, both straps fallen, the outline of her underwear fully visible in the lamplight.
A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin. The flush had spread from her face down her neck to her chest. The sounds escaping her lips were no longer moans—they were something closer to anguished whimpers.
The doctor averted his eyes awkwardly.
I cleared my throat softly. "Everyone out."
When only the two of us remained, I walked to the bedside.
Serena seemed to sense someone approaching. Her body lurched toward me, arms winding around my waist, face burying into my abdomen, lips grazing my muscles through the fabric of my shirt. The whimpering started again.
"It hurts..." Her voice was wrecked beyond recognition. "It hurts so much..."
I reached out and pushed her away.
She was drugged, but I wasn't. I had to keep my head.
But she wouldn't let me.
After I pushed her back, she froze for only a second before clinging to me again.
This time her upper body pressed almost entirely against mine. The thin fabric between us concealed nothing—the soft pressure of her chest against me was enough to drive me insane.
Her body was poison.
My body was betraying me. Heat gathered steadily in my lower abdomen.
I seized her wrists, pinned her back onto the bed, turned and grabbed the glass of cold water from the nightstand, and threw it over her without hesitation.
Water splashed across her face and chest.
Her body jerked violently. The writhing stopped. The moaning stopped.
Serena opened her eyes. Her pupils drifted unfocused for several seconds, then slowly sharpened.
She looked at me, blank for about three seconds. "Win... ston?"
Her voice was hoarse and faint, as if traveling from somewhere impossibly far away.
I crouched down, wanting to speak to her, but before I could get a word out, her expression shifted—filled with deep wariness and disgust. "Your men did this?"
Her voice trembled. "You had me drugged? You're just as despicable as Leo!"
I said nothing. Offered no defense. Just as I never had, all those years ago.
I clenched my jaw, watching the cold water slowly soak through what remained of her clothing. The outline of her underwear was clearly visible. Her skin still carried that faint flush.
Serena was shaking all over, her teeth biting down on her lower lip until it turned white, fingers clenched so tightly around the sheets beneath her that her knuckles threatened to break through the skin.
I knew what she was doing—fighting her own body. Every muscle screaming for release, and she was using sheer willpower to nail herself in place, refusing to give an inch.
That was so like her.
Stubborn to the bone.
She'd sooner destroy herself than show weakness in front of anyone.
Then, suddenly, Serena lifted her head. A self-mocking smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, eyes glistening bright with unshed tears—but she didn't let a single one fall.
"Leo betrayed me."
Her voice was as light as wind. "He and Tiffany. They're together. They even have a child." She paused, sniffing once. "So now you can have your revenge too. Go ahead, Winston..."
She tilted her head slightly. "I'm already a woman nobody wants. Sleeping with me—you'd hardly be losing out."
I looked at her.
At that smile on her lips—so determined to appear strong it bordered on cruel. At the lower lip bitten white and the fingers trembling around the sheets. At the sheen of tears that had been circling her eyes for so long without falling.
The doctor's words echoed in my mind. Over six hours. Irreversible damage to the nervous system.
Then Serena reached for me again.
This time it wasn't unconscious instinct driving her. It was her own choice.
She released the sheets, leaned her body toward me, and wrapped her arms around my neck.
I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, I reached out and tore away her soaking clothes.
