Chapter 1220

In the pitch-black room, Claire’s eyes went wide. The shock sobered her up instantly.

“Wait a minute…” she stammered, trying to talk sense into the clearly intoxicated man pressing her into the wall.

Wilbur’s breathing hitched violently. “I’ve waited long enough! I can’t wait anymore!”

Claire’s mind went entirely blank.

What was he waiting for?

He tilted his head, the tip of his nose tracing the fluttering pulse at her neck. The sheer heat of his breath made her shiver, instinctively shrinking back.

The next second, his voice dropped-a gravelly, almost shattered whisper that struck right against her skin.

“I don’t mind being the other man.”

Claire froze in pure disbelief.

Those words exploded in her mind like a grenade.

“What do you mean, the other—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Wilbur tilted her chin up and crushed his lips against hers.

It was a punishing, desperate kiss. His tongue forcefully parted her lips, swallowing

the rest of her sentence and replacing it with a muffled gasp.

Claire’s head spun, all the oxygen instantly stolen from her lungs.

Wilbur kissed her like a man possessed, completely devouring her, drawing the moment out until it felt like an eternity.

It wasn’t until both of their chests were heaving for air that he finally, agonizingly, pulled away.

He rested his forehead against hers, his ragged, searing breath fanning over her swollen, wet lips.

The air between them was scorching, heavy with an undeniably feral possessiveness.

“So stop looking for other men.”

“Okay?”

Claire’s brain was utterly short-circuiting. She desperately tried to process what was happening.

Wilbur was asking her bizarre questions.

He was spouting complete nonsense.

He said he didn’t mind being the other man?

He had to be completely wasted.

He was a man who prided himself on absolute control. In all the time she’d known him, she had never seen him lose it like this.

Unless… just like in those ridiculous romance tropes, someone had drugged his drink?

It wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. After all, Seth Harcourt had been drugged recently, hadn’t he?

Yes. That had to be it. That explained why he was acting like a total lunatic.

Claire exhaled a shaky breath, feeling the panic in her chest finally begin to subside.

“Wilbur, how much did you actually drink? You’re talking complete nonsense.”

Wilbur had been drinking, yes, but he was far from incoherent.

Her casual dismissal acted like a lit match dropped on a powder keg

instantly detonating all the net

dark

twisted emotions he had been

ing.

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Furious, he dipped his head and bit down hard on her swollen lip.

It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but it was aggressive a sharp, stinging punishment driven by sheer frustration.

He didn’t let up until Claire gasped for breath, finally easing off to relentlessly grind his lips against hers.

“Didn’t you want to have an affair? Fine. I’ll play along.”

His voice was a dark, dangerous rumble against her mouth, thick with a lethal warning.

“But you are not allowed to look for anyone else!”

Claire’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

An… an affair?

He was that unhinged?

People always whispered that Wilbur was a wild playboy, but she never imagined he was willing to cross this kind of line.

Now it felt impossible to casually slip in the fact that she was already divorced.

“Where did Claire go? Has anyone seen her?”

“Yeah, she’s been gone a long time.”

The voices of the male actors suddenly echoed from the hallway right outside the door.

They had obviously noticed her prolonged absence and come looking for her.

Reality crashed down on Claire. She frantically shoved at Wilbur’s chest.

“My friends are looking for me. Let me go.”

But Wilbur didn’t budge an inch.

Instead, he lowered his head and et

clamped his teeth down on the

sensitive skin of her neck.

It was a firm, possessive bite—an absolute warning.

He only released her when she let out a sharp hiss of pain.

He brushed his thumb over her bruised lip, his tone completely dictatorial.

“Make them leave.”

“Then let go of me first,” Claire shot back, her breathing entirely erratic.

Wilbur finally loosened his iron grip.

Without his support, Claire’s legs instantly gave out, nearly sending her collapsing to the floor.

Thankfully, Wilbur caught her just in time.

His hand clamped firmly around her

her

waist, his palm burning so hot she could feel it searing right through the fabric of her dress.