Chapter 1: Strong Stuff
So hot.
Sophia Williams felt like her whole body was on fire.
“It’s so hot… too hot…”
A blazing heat surged from her lower belly, spreading all over. She clawed desperately at her clothes, neckline ripping open and exposing her pale skin, but it wasn’t helping one bit.
Her head was spinning.
She forced her eyes open, only to be greeted by a scene that left her shaken.
A luxury presidential suite.
Expensive Persian carpet, dazzling crystal chandelier.
And there she was—lying sprawled out on the massive bed like some seductress out of a movie.
She pinched herself hard, finally shaking off some of the daze.
“Where… am I?”
Just like any other day, she'd headed home after work. But the moment she reached the stairwell, someone clamped a hand over her mouth and… nothing. Everything had gone black.
Remembering that made her heart skip a beat.
Who kidnapped her?
And how the hell did she end up here?
The room was dead silent—you could hear a pin drop. So when the water started running in the bathroom, it sounded ten times louder.
Sophia’s heart pounded like crazy.
Panicked, she tried jumping off the bed and making a run for it.
But—
“Ow—damn it!”
Her legs were jelly. She collapsed straight to the floor, knee slamming against the cold tiles. A sharp breath escaped her lips from the pain, cold sweat breaking out all over.
She had to have been drugged.
And now her body was boiling.
Tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn’t let anything happen to her. She just couldn’t.
In three days, she was supposed to marry her boyfriend of five years—Oliver Bennett. If anything went down now, how could she ever face him?
She tried crawling, tried pulling herself away, but her body wouldn't obey.
Whatever was in her system, it was quickly pulling her consciousness under too.
She grew hotter. Dizzier. Her vision blurred—
“Click—”
The bathroom door swung open.
Just before blacking out completely, Sophia shut her eyes in dread.
...
Somewhere in her haze, she felt a wave of coolness wrap around her. She was being lifted off the floor—and her instincts clung to that icy touch like a lifeline.
The man froze for a second, looking down at Sophia, now flushed bright red from the drug. His eyes darkened coldly.
If he found out who did this to her, he’d make sure they didn’t get out of it alive.
“So hot…” she muttered, unconscious and delirious.
He looked away, thinking about what Ethan Williams had said just moments before.
“She took some heavy-duty stuff. It’s already kicked in. Too late for the hospital—only one way to counteract it. If you’re not up for it, give her to someone els—” He hadn’t even finished when the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees under the man’s glare. “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up!”
Hand her to someone else?
Not a chance in hell.
Not even her fiancé, Oliver Bennett, got that right.
His voice low and raspy, eyes dark as ink, he murmured, “Sophia Williams, don’t blame me for this.”
Then he set her gently on the bed, stripped off his shirt, and leaned down.
The room instantly heated up—stifling, breathless.
And at the very end, a stark splash of red was left on the snow-white sheets.