chapter68

Gage lunged toward Elysia with a predatory sneer, his intent clear.

Elysia recoiled, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. “Touch me again, and I’ll scream for help!”

“Scream? Go ahead,” Gage mocked, a chilling grin spreading across his face. “In this city, who would dare interfere with me? Tonight, you aren't going anywhere.”

He lunged again, but in his reckless haste, his foot caught the edge of a rug. He hit the floor with a heavy, clumsy thud.

“Dammit!” Gage hissed, wincing as he scrambled to regain his footing.

Seizing the desperate opening, Elysia dashed toward the exit. Infuriated by her resistance, Gage grabbed a heavy porcelain soap dispenser from a nearby stand and hurled it at her. Had Elysia not ducked in time, the impact would have been devastating.

She stood frozen for a split second, staring at the shattered white shards on the floor, gasping for air. Gage’s presence was a dual threat—his malice was matched only by his sudden, explosive volatility.

“If you try to run again, I’ll make sure you regret it,” Gage threatened, his voice laced with a dark fury. The more she resisted, the more his obsession grew, turning his desire into a dangerous need for control.

Elysia fled into the hallway. She had hoped to find hotel staff or a security guard, but the corridor was eerily deserted. She couldn't lead this monster back to her room; she couldn't risk the safety of Blossom and the children.

Just as she felt her strength fading, a door to one of the grand private suites swung open. Without a second thought, Elysia darted inside and slammed the door shut, bracing her body against the wood.

“Help!” she panted, her voice trembling. “Someone is chasing me!”

The bustling conversation inside the room died instantly. A dozen pairs of eyes turned toward her—some showing surprise, others sharp curiosity. Elysia was a striking sight; despite her disheveled state, she possessed a pristine, unblemished beauty that seemed out of place in such a cynical environment.

At the head of the table, Tarquin sat shrouded in a thin veil of cigarette smoke. He furrowed his brows the moment he recognized her. He had come here for a quiet dinner, yet here she was again, despite her earlier promises to vanish. The irony was not lost on him.

Beside him sat Keaton, a man whose reputation as a playboy was legendary in Jindale City. The moment he laid eyes on Elysia, his expression shifted from boredom to intense fascination. Without waiting for Tarquin’s reaction, Keaton stood up and moved toward her.

“What’s wrong, miss? Who’s after you?” Keaton’s voice was smooth, designed to soothe and charm.

Other men at the table, Booker and Upton, rose to assist, but Keaton waved them off with a dismissive smirk. “Sit down, guys. With your grim expressions, you’ll only frighten her more.”

The others exchanged resigned glances. Keaton was in his element. Standing six-foot-three with the build of an athlete and a face that graced many a social column, he was a formidable presence. He had the wealth, the looks, and a calculated charisma that few women could resist.

However, just as Keaton reached Elysia’s side, intent on playing the savior, something in the room's atmosphere shifted. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes darting toward the head of the table.