Janelle glared at him. What was that moan about?
Erik: "Apologies. Lost control for a moment."
Janelle: "..."
Erik finished cleaning and bandaging her wound. His movements were practiced and efficient.
Once done, his gaze lingered on her, thoughtful.
"I've tended your wound. What about mine? Shouldn't you return the favor?"
He could easily handle it himself, but he wanted her to do it.
A flicker of mischief crossed the woman's beautiful eyes.
She nodded.
"Alright. I'll help you."
Janelle rose from the sofa and pushed Erik down onto it.
"Take off your shirt," she commanded.
"You do it. My wound hurts." He sat back, radiating authority despite his position.
The man possessed eyes that seemed inherently deep and passionate.
Eyes like that could make even looking at a dog feel like a declaration of love.
Janelle flexed her fingers, a wicked smile playing on her lips.
"Fine."
She stepped between his legs and roughly yanked open his black dress shirt.
The force was brutal; buttons flew off, scattering across the floor like bullets.
"Still need my help?" she taunted.
"Yes." His gaze was pure challenge.
"Wild enough. I like it," he added.
Janelle tore the ruined shirt off him with savage efficiency.
His sculpted chest, complete with defined pectoral muscles, was instantly revealed.
No wonder he had the capital to tempt women.
The bandage over his heart was soaked through with fresh blood.
Janelle deliberately pressed a finger against the wound.
A groan escaped him.
"Thought you could handle pain? What's the noise for?"
"Don't want to hold back in front of you."
In stark contrast to Erik's earlier gentleness, Janelle's ministrations were deliberately rough and crude.
Erik paled with the pain.
Yet, he didn't stop her.
Was he inherently masochistic?
Why did the pain only intensify the sensation?
Her fingers were warm, touching his heated skin... it felt strangely good.
Watching the undeniable spark of desire flare in his eyes despite the pain, Janelle's expression filled with scorn.
Men. Always mistaking animal instinct for action.
Just as she finished re-bandaging his wound, Janelle's phone rang.
She walked to the floor-to-ceiling window to answer it. Erik remained shirtless, starting to clear the mess on the coffee table.
Westin's furious voice exploded from the phone the moment she connected.
[Janelle! Where are you?! You have ten minutes! Get your ass back here NOW!]
[If you're not back, you'll never see your mother again!]
[Are you listening to me?! Are you deaf?!]
The humiliation from the banquet fueled his rage; he desperately wanted to beat her senseless.
"Westin, wasn't last night's lesson enough?"
"Want to see me? Fine. Wait at home." Janelle hung up without waiting for a reply.
"Going back?" She turned to find the man standing shirtless behind her.
"No. I'm taking a shower." Janelle headed straight for the bathroom.
The sound of running water from the shower only amplified the restless heat coiling within Erik.
Janelle emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a robe to find the man standing by the window, smoking.
His silhouette alone, powerful and defined, could make countless women swoon.
Hearing her, Erik turned.
Her hair dripped water onto the robe, her only covering.
"Why are you still here?" Janelle frowned.
Erik walked to the coffee table and crushed the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray.
"Miss Rovella, I booked this suite."
"Then I'll leave." The naked hunger in his gaze was too much.
She had no interest in romantic entanglements.
He moved in front of her, caging her loosely with his arms. "Didn't I tell you? I want you."
"Janelle, let me pursue you. How about it?" Erik was nothing if not direct.
"Not interested." Janelle pushed past him, heading for the door.
"You don't have to go. I will." Erik didn't press her. After all, they'd just met.
There was plenty of time. He wasn't in a hurry.
This girl had a soft body but iron will. Force would only hurt her; it wasn't the way.
Erik left the Presidential Suite and had his assistant book the one next door to Janelle.
"Sir, your eldest brother in the Imperial Capital has been restless lately," the assistant reported.
"Let him dance a little longer." Squashing him immediately was boring. It was far more satisfying to let him believe he was on the verge of triumph before crushing him utterly.
"And the second and third young masters?" None of the three Lorenz siblings was easy prey.
"Second and third young masters have been relatively quiet recently."
"Good." Though absent from the Imperial Capital, Erik remained acutely aware of every development.
Janelle slept soundly in the Grand Court Presidential Suite that night.
She woke the next morning feeling refreshed and energized.
Hearing the doorbell, she padded barefoot to answer it.
Erik stood outside, clad once again in a black dress shirt. The man truly favored black.
But honestly, the combination was perfection on him.
"Breakfast together? Not an unreasonable request, is it?"
"Clothes are ready for you. I'll wait outside." He gestured to his assistant behind him, holding several designer shopping bags.
She did need a change of clothes. Janelle stepped aside to let the assistant place the bags inside.
"Thanks." Once the assistant left, she closed the door.
Erik waited patiently outside. Patience wasn't his virtue, but for Janelle, he had an abundance.
Just then, the door to the opposite Presidential Suite opened. Lillie and Nelson stepped out.
Seeing Erik, they both froze.
"What are you doing here? Stalking us?" Nelson demanded, frowning.
Erik looked at the epitome of average male confidence and found it amusing. "What are you?"
"You—!" Nelson bristled at the man's condescending smirk.
At that moment, Janelle opened her door and stepped out.
Seeing Janelle emerge from this suite, Nelson's face darkened further.
"Janelle! Have you no self-respect?! Shacking up with some shady man in a hotel room! Have you no shame?!" Images flooded his mind – of her, last night, possibly beneath this man, while he had thought of her.
"Janelle, I know you're bitter, but you can't just sleep around with anyone because Nelson and I got engaged!" Lillie chimed in, feigning concern.
"Lillie," Janelle's voice was icy, "you, who cavorts with men in hotels yourself, have the audacity to judge me? Still playing the Rovella heiress? No matter how hard you scrub, your mother is still a shameless mistress, and you'll always be the mistress's daughter. Got it?"
"Then again," Janelle continued, a cruel smile touching her lips, "when it comes to seducing men, I could never match you. After all, you learned from the best – your mother taught you all her tricks, didn't she?"
"You—!" Lillie's eyes instantly welled up with tears. "Janelle! It was your mother who cheated! My mother only got together with Father afterward! How can you say such things about her?!"
Janelle moved like lightning. Her hand clamped around Lillie's neck.
"Oh? Is that so, Lillie? Did you develop early-onset dementia and forget the truth about my mother?"