Queen of Wild Cards novel Chapter 22

A good employee knew better than to pry.

Stella had everything ready. The dark, boiling herbal solution was poured straight into the tub.

"It's cooled to forty-five degrees Celsius—the perfect temperature for the soak," she told Julius. "But I'm warning you, this is going to be excruciating. Brace yourself."

She turned her attention to the two stern, heavily-muscled men standing in the room. Bodyguards, most likely. "You two. One holds his shoulders, the other pins his legs. Do not let his legs out of that water until the time is up. Understand?"

The two men remained silent, stoically taking their positions beside Julius.

*Rude,* Stella thought.

"Alright, I'm going to help you get your legs in," she said. Moving with lightning speed, she lifted his legs, submerged them in the tub, and immediately darted backward in one fluid motion. She wasn't taking any chances of him thrashing around and splashing that scalding liquid on her.

Before Julius even understood why she was running, a guttural, agonizing scream tore from his throat.

"Ahhh!"

He nearly launched himself out of the chair, but the bodyguards slammed him back down just in time.

It was torture. Far worse than having his flesh sliced open. As the medicinal herbs penetrated his atrophied muscles, he clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might shatter. This wasn't pain—this was pure agony.

"Do not let him go!" Stella commanded. "He has to stay in for half an hour for it to work."

The bodyguards didn't utter a word, their grips like iron vices. Before she had entered the room, Julius had given them strict orders: *Whatever she says, you do.*

The liquid smelled abhorrent; there was no way she was cleaning that up herself when she had free labor.

One of the bodyguards stuffed tissues up his nose, grabbed the foul-smelling black sludge, and hauled it away. He meticulously scrubbed the tub clean before leaving.

Once they were gone, Stella applied some targeted holistic pressure points to help Julius sink into an even deeper restorative sleep, knowing the ordeal had severely depleted his energy.

Looking down at the sleeping billionaire, she couldn't resist reaching out to trace his strong jawline. The man was unfairly attractive. With his deep-set eyes and sharp features, his usual icy aura had melted away, leaving him looking like a flawless marble statue.

Her good friend Sylvie Jennings always joked that she was a sucker for a pretty face, and Stella proudly owned it. She liked looking at handsome men.

And right now, touching his face wasn't quite enough—she slowly trailed her fingers down toward his chest.