Chapter 661

[ 716 words ]

Julia hurried to the front desk and got a room for Yvonne. The bellboy handed her the keycard with a polite smile. “Here you go, ma’am. Room 808, sixty-fifth floor.”

Julia snatched the card without much ceremony. “Thanks.”

She didn’t waste any time and started guiding Yvonne upstairs.

As soon as they got into the elevator, Julia’s phone went off again. Yvonne was practically hanging off her like a ragdoll.

With one arm holding up Yvonne and the other juggling her phone, Julia managed to jab the button for the 66th floor.

She barely paid attention to the call, just muttered, “Hang on a sec, I’ll be right there.”

“Yeah, I’m out tonight, don’t rush me, okay? I need to get Feathers sorted first,” she added, using Yvonne’s silly nickname.

Yvonne was so wasted she could barely stand. No matter what, Julia had to get her settled before doing anything else.

Whoever was on the other end of the line sounded pretty impatient.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m coming, okay?” Julia said, exasperated.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open.

Julia glanced at the room number on the card-808. She half-carried, half- dragged Yvonne down the hallway.

Her phone was still pressed to her ear, and Yvonne felt like she doubled in weight with every step.

A bellhop delivering champagne next door noticed Julia struggling. He stepped over, all helpful smiles. “Miss, do you need a hand?”

“I’m good, thanks. We’re here,” Julia replied, trying to sound breezy, but she was struggling to fish the keycard out and swipe it.

Yvonne, limp as overcooked spaghetti, nearly slid to the floor as Julia reached for the reader.

Julia caught her just in time, arms full of dead weight.

The bellhop, recognizing the struggle and the room number, used his master key

to open the door for her. “There you go, ma’am.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Would you like help getting her inside?”

“No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

Waving him off, Julia practically hauled Yvonne into the room.

City lights glowed through the window, so the room wasn’t even that dark. Julia

didn’t bother with the lights, just dumped Yvonne onto the bed.

On the phone, someone barked, “Julia, have you left yet or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going, okay?”

God, she was exhausted.

Drunk people were the worst. She yanked the blanket up to cover Yvonne, then headed back out.

She didn’t notice a thing as she hurried past the bathroom.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Inside, Xander stumbled out of the bathroom, groggy and burning up. His skin felt like he’d just run a fever marathon.

Something was definitely off. Especially, well… somewhere specific.

He was breathing hard, barely holding onto his senses as he called Kyle.

Kyle answered right away. “Mr. Schultz?”

“Get a doctor to the Night Owl, fast. I think I’ve been drugged.”

After years of late nights and wild parties, Xander recognized the signs immediately.

His eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous.

But before long, even that last bit of self-control slipped away.

That night, Xander and Yvonne both tumbled into a long, feverish dream.

In the dream, Xander realized it was Yvonne with him-and he lost all control,

venting every bit of his pent-up frustration and anger on her.

In real life, she’d been a pain in his ass, but in the dream, Xander showed no mercy.

Yvonne, on her end, also dreamed of Xander.

They both thought it was just some bizarre, endless dream…

The next morning.

Ronald came downstairs to find his mother sitting at the kitchen table, looking distinctly unimpressed when she saw him.

“What exactly did you have Dylan check Star for last night?” she demanded.

Ronald didn’t answer, just slid into the chair across from her. Lottie glanced up the stairs.

It was already nine-thirty and Star still hadn’t come down. Just how wild had last night gotten?

Lottie’s frown deepened.

“Honestly, Ronald, couldn’t you have shown a little restraint? You know she’s not in the best health.”

She knew why Ronald had Dylan, the family doctor, check on Stella last night— she wasn’t born yesterday.

Why hadn’t she noticed before that her usually mature, responsible son had such

a lack of self-control in this department?

Ronald took a sip of milk, unfazed. “I know what I’m doing.”

Lottie just stared at him.

“You know what you’re doing? That’s what you call it? You think you can just

‘know what you’re doing’ when you’re acting like a horny teenager?”

She pressed her fingers to her temple, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. Ronald looked at the housekeeper. “Same breakfast for her, please.”

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