Chapter 1930


    Chapter 1930


    Ivy squirmed with every ounce of strength left in her, her mind racing back to Balfour. How she


    regretted lying on the phone! Maybe, just maybe, if she had told the truth, Balfour would havee to


    her rescue.


    Heat washed over her as she struggled, her vision blurring, her head spinning. “This drink…” she


    muttered under her breath.


    “How do you like it? Feeling hot, huh? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take real good care of you soon


    enough!” Vincent sneered triumphantly, moving closer with each word.


    Ivy stumbled backward, her body feeling like a dead weight.


    Who could possibly save her now?


    Elsewhere, Balfour had downed a couple of beers back in his buddy’s VIP booth, but he couldn’t shake


    off a persistent unease. The image of Ivy toasting that sleazy old man yed on his mind, stirring up a


    strange agitation.


    All content ? N/.?vel/Dr/ama.Org.


    His phone buzzed. It was Quinton.


    “Mr. Howard, I’ve dug into that mess from the other night. Turns out it’s just as Ivy said. Her sister set


    her up to sleep with some big-shot investor. Ivy wandered into the wrong room because she was


    stered, no one pushed her towards you.”


    After the call, Balfour remembered the crumpled bills Ivy had thrown at him.


    Suddenly, he stood, heading for the exit.


    “Where the hell are you off to, Balfour?” a friend called after him.


    “Need a smoke!” Balfour threw over his shoulder without turning back.


    “Again? You just had one,” his friends murmured among themselves.


    Balfour stormed back to the booth where he hadst seen Ivy, his foot crashing against the door.


    BAM!


    As Ivy’s consciousness slipped away, she thought she saw Balfour’s silhouette.


    It must be a desperate hallucination; Balfour wouldn’t know toe for her.


    “No! Don’t touch me!”


    Ivy woke with a start, her scream fading as she sat bolt upright to find herself in a spacious, well-lit


    room.


    Looking around, she realized she was in a hotel suite. The bathroom light was on, the sound of running


    water indicating someone was showering.


    Her mind shed back to Vincent, his greasy hands and lecherous smile. After drinking that spiked


    wine, her body had felt on fire, and when Vincent made his move, she had been powerless to stop him.


    Had she ended up in the clutches of that repulsive man after all?


    The thought made her stomach churn.


    She had to get out, now. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing that disgusting man.


    Clutching the bed sheet around herself, Ivy slid off the bed, searching in vain for her clothes. There


    wasn’t a shred of fabric in sight.


    Where were her clothes?


    She noticed a set of neatly folded men’s clothes on a nearby dresser.


    Was Vincent’s taste in clothing really this impable? And the size looked all wrong.


    With no time to ponder, she grabbed a shirt and slipped it on. It was a vast improvement over being


    naked.


    Shirted and slightly more dignified, Ivy found her purse and phone. She was ready to bolt.