Sylvia was huddled behind the door, peering through the peephole to catch a glimpse of the commotion outside.
Eloise, leading the charge with fury in her step, halted right in front of room number 6.
Just as she raised her hand to knock, Bridget stepped forward to intervene.
In a hushed tone, she advised, “Ms. Eloise, knocking will only give them time to cover their tracks. Then, we’ll have no proof. After everything you’ve done for Sylvia, and this is how she repays you? Are you really going to let her off with her dignity intact? I feel outraged on your behalf, which is why I brought the key to the lounge.”
With that, Bridget pressed the key into Eloise’s hand.
Fuming over the thought of her husband and one of her employees conspiring behind her back, Eloise’s rationality vanished. She turned, swiftly unlocked the door, and stormed inside.
The people inside barely had time to react before a cacophony of screams filled the air.
Sylvia, with her ear practically glued to the door, could hear nothing of the chaos inside, which was driving her insane!
The man behind her edged closer, his voice low and tinged with amusement, “Aren’t you going in?”
So engrossed was Sylvia that she hadn’t noticed his approach, murmuring, “How did they get here so quickly?”
“Were you planning to wait until they’re finished? That wouldn’t be fun at all.”
His breath warmed Sylvia’s cheek; she spun around, her lips brushing against his.
It was but a moment, yet his gaze deepened, his arms encircling her waist.
Pressing his lips to hers, he stated, “You started it.”
“It wasn’t—mm…”
...
Seconds later, Sylvia slipped out of the room unnoticed.
Through the barely closed door, she saw the man’s dark figure. He leaned against the wall, wiping a trace of blood from his lip, his gaze fixed on Sylvia with a predatory intensity.
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