Chapter 3

Ivory wasn't the foolish type who put her guard down around everyone. She knew the bar was seedy and had many people with nasty intentions. The only reason she could drink away her sorrows without a worry was that Wilson was around. She felt safe whenever he was nearby.

However, Wilson was too busy coaxing Belinda to care about Ivory. He seemed to have forgotten that he was Ivory's steward and was supposed to pay attention to everything in her life.

The drug soon took effect. Ivory felt like she was burning up—the heat was only getting worse. No amount of ice cubes could soothe it.

A few scions surrounded her and took the opportunity to slip their hands underneath her dress.

"Your face is so red, gorgeous. Are you thirsty for a man?"

"Jesus, you're hot. Come on, let us satisfy you…"

Their actions were becoming less restrained. They even wanted to slip her underwear off.

Ivory couldn't take it anymore. She mustered the remnants of her strength and shouted, "Wilson!"

Only then did Wilson notice her situation. He didn't hurry to her, though. He said to Belinda gently, "Wait here for me, Ms. Belinda. I'll be right back."

Then, he cut through the crowd and stopped by Ivory's side.

"Are you trying to be a knight in shining armor so you can save a damsel in distress? Take it from me, and keep your nose out of—"

The scions thought they could scare Wilson off by strength in numbers, but he snapped one of their arms before they could finish.

"Get lost!" he growled. That was all he said, but it exuded dominance.

The scions fled, and Ivory reached her limit. She collapsed weakly in Wilson's arms, her voice shaky as she said, "I… I feel horrible, Wilson…"

He frowned. He wanted to push her away when he noticed her flushed face. Only then did he realize something was wrong with her. He swept her off her feet and cut through the crowd, heading to one of the private rooms upstairs.

The drug was potent. Ivory tried her best to resist its effects, but she still couldn't help snaking her arms around Wilson's neck.

She was itching everywhere. Every cell in her body screamed for attention. She wanted to take off her clothes; she wanted a man's touch…

"Help me…" When Wilson put her down, she broke down and stood on her tiptoes. Tears streamed down her face as she peppered kisses on his face. "I feel like I'm dying… Wilson, help me…"

The drug made Ivory lose all sense of rationality. She kissed him haphazardly while roaming her hands over his body. She wanted some relief from him; she wanted him to help her get rid of the itch deep within her.

Amid her delirium, a bucket of cold water was suddenly poured over her. Wilson stood before her, his eyes still cold and stoic. "Are you a bit more lucid now?"

The water soaked Ivory through. The iciness had indeed calmed her down, but her blazing heart was also extinguished.

"There's no antidote for the drug here. You can start with cooling yourself down physically," Wilson said coldly. He filled the bathtub with cold water before throwing Ivory in.

Her lips turned blue from the low temperature, but he merely watched her stoically. He didn't seem to pity her at all.

"Hang on, Ms. Ivory. I'll go get you an antidote." He turned and left without another look back.

Ivory waited for him through the night, but he never came back. The iciness of the water seeped into her bones, yet the aphrodisiac was still eating away at her from inside.

She felt like countless ants were gnawing at her body. The water's iciness couldn't get rid of the heat inside her—it could only temporarily keep her lucid.

She was burning inside, yet she was freezing on the outside. She was trapped between fire and ice.

Still, she clenched her jaw and stuck it out. After a night, the heat finally subsided.

Ivory was exhausted. Her legs felt like jelly as she got out of the bathtub.

She thought Wilson had been gone for the whole night because it was hard to find an antidote, but she heard Belinda's voice drift out from the room beside hers as soon as she stepped out.

"I'm sorry, Will. It's all my fault for being dumb enough to twist my ankle. You spent all night massaging it for me—you didn't have time to care for Ivy."

"It's fine," Wilson said coolly while carefully massaging her ankle. "Ivory deserves to be taught a lesson."