Claimed by the Crown Heir novel Chapter 19

Dawn was just breaking when Vanessa slowly blinked open her eyes, her entire body aching as if she had been hit by a truck.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position. The thin duvet slipped down her torso, exposing a terrifying array of dark marks scattered across her skin.

A flood of explicit, sweaty, overwhelmingly shameful memories crashed into her brain.

Last night, right after leaving the cafe, she had been drugged and nearly assaulted. At the absolute last second, Alistair had kicked the door in and rescued her.

But completely out of her mind on drugs, she had thrown herself at him like a desperate animal...

As the first light of morning filtered through the windows, she stared at the total disaster zone the room had become, realizing exactly how wild the night had been.

A rustling sound came from beside her. She whipped her head around, her eyes landing on the devastatingly handsome face of the sleeping man. She froze completely, her mind short-circuiting.

She had no clue how to handle the inevitable awkwardness when he woke up.

He had saved her life, and she had repaid him by practically attacking him.

Run...

The thought flashed instantly through her panicked brain.

She scrambled out of bed, scooped up her scattered lingerie and dress, and shoved them on with trembling hands.

Grabbing her luggage, she tiptoed toward the door, fleeing the scene of the crime.

Passing the living room, she paused, pulled a bank card from her purse, and placed it neatly on the coffee table.

It held fifty thousand dollars, a pathetic attempt to compensate the man for her behavior.

Right as she boarded her flight, she blocked Alistair's number.

It was just a one-night stand. They would never see each other again.

Alistair reached out for the warm woman, only to find empty sheets. His dark eyes instantly snapped open.

The pillow beside him was still warm, but she had vanished without a trace.

When his gaze landed on the stark red stain on the pristine white sheets, a wave of complicated emotions churned in his chest.

A knock echoed on the door, followed by Quentin's voice.

"Mr. Howard."

Alistair threw on his robe, yanked the door open, then strode over to the sofa, pulling a cigarette to his lips and lighting it.

"Those three men talked. They claimed Lucas Lowery's assistant, Chloe Quinn, hired them for twenty grand to ruin Ms. Grant..."

Quentin finished his report and glanced up at his boss.

The scratches and marks trailing down the intensely powerful man's chest and neck completely shattered his normally untouchable, elite aura.

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