His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 376

Spoiled rotten since birth, she was used to everyone kissing the ground she walked on. She had never been dismissed like an insect before.

Catching sight of a steaming bowl of truffle chicken soup that had just been served, her rage took over. She grabbed the bowl and chucked the scalding liquid straight at Virginia's face.

"Die, you bitch!"

It happened too fast. The boiling steam rushed her face, and a flicker of pure panic flashed in Virginia's eyes. She instinctively clamped her eyes shut and whipped her head away.

But the agonizing burn never came.

A towering figure lunged in front of her, shielding her entirely within a solid embrace.

The scalding soup splashed directly across the man's dark gray tailored shirt. The premium fabric instantly darkened, dripping a greasy mess down his heavily muscled forearm.

Virginia opened her eyes, immediately hit by the unmistakable scent of Oud & Bergamot.

Archer stood over her, his jaw locked tight enough to shatter bone, his predatory gaze locking onto Mandy.

He had scheduled a business lunch here today for one pathetic reason: it was slightly closer to Virginia's clinic.

He hadn't expected to spot her out of the corner of his eye while heading downstairs.

Without a second thought, he had walked straight over.

Who knew that simple impulse would end up shielding her from an attack.

Mandy stood frozen, the empty soup bowl dangling from her hand as all the blood rushed from her face.

"Archer..." she stammered, her fingers going slack. The bowl hit the floor and shattered.

Ignoring the searing pain in his arm, Archer checked to make sure Virginia was untouched before turning his attention back to the attacker.

"Miss Sterling," Archer growled, his voice vibrating with absolute, suffocating authority. "Did I just hear you accuse her of using dirty tricks?"

Inside a fitting room at a high-end boutique on the mall's third floor.

Archer undid his buttons one-handed, peeled off the ruined shirt, and tossed it into the trash.

He stood bare-chested. An angry, inflamed blister covered a massive swath of his right arm. Even after Zachary Cole had rushed over with antiseptic to wipe it down, the burn looked brutal.

Virginia picked out a black button-down, knocked lightly, and slid it through the cracked door.

Archer pulled it on, managed two buttons with his left hand, and then stopped.

"Virginia, are you still there? My arm is burning. I can't move my hand," he called out, his deep voice carrying through the wood. He stared intensely at the door panel. "Can you come in and help me button this?"

Virginia pursed her lips, knocked once, and pushed the door open.

He looked devastatingly handsome. With his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the shirt hanging open to reveal his deeply sculpted abs, he radiated an overwhelming, raw sexual tension.