Chapter 1217

The greasy-haired guy tried to lunge forward, but a bartender finally stepped in, slapping a baseball bat against his palm as he stood firmly beside Wilbur. The threat was crystal clear.

Wilbur finally let go, turning his attention to a visibly shaken Claire.

The terrifying ice in his eyes vanished instantly.

He reached out his hand to her. “Come here.”

Claire immediately grabbed his hand, stepping safely to his side.

“Scared?”

He asked it casually, but his gaze dropped to her red, bruised wrist, and his eyes darkened dangerously.

He turned back to the two men, a slow, humorless smile spreading across his face.

“I co-own this bar. You try to touch my people on my turf, and you think I’m just going to stand by?”

The bartender didn’t waste a second, hauling both men by the scruff of their necks into an adjacent storage room.

A moment later, agonizing screams echoed through the door.

The sounds of pain were so loud they pierced right through the club’s heavy bass.

Knowing exactly what she was thinking, Wilbur said softly, “Don’t worry. They know when to stop.”

He looked at Claire, his tone returning to that lazy drawl, though it left absolutely no room for argument. “Let’s go. I’ll take you back.”

“I haven’t paid my tab yet…”

Wilbur pulled out his phone, dialed the manager, and handed it to her. “Tell him your room number. Put it on my tab.”

Claire had wanted to decline.

But seeing the lingering storm in Wilbur’s eyes, she swallowed her protests and quietly gave the manager her room number.

Wilbur guided her out of the club and into the back of his waiting luxury car.

The ride was tense and silent.

There was no music playing in the cabin, just the low hum of the engine and the sound of tires splashing through puddles.

The rain outside had intensified into a heavy downpour.

Wilbur kept his head turned, staring out the window.

He had clearly been drinking. His tie was loosened, draped carelessly over his collar, and his eyes were half-closed in exhaustion.

As they passed a 24-hour pharmacy, Wilbur suddenly spoke, his voice raspy from the alcohol. “Stop the car.”

The driver hit the brakes, and Wilbur was out the door before the car even fully stopped.

Through the fogged-up rear window, Claire watched as he strode straight into the pouring rain, not even bothering to grab an umbrella.

The downpour instantly soaked the back of his dark shirt.

A few minutes later, the door pulled open. He slid back in, drenched and radiating the chilt of the storm, and

casually tossed a small tube into her lap.

It was a pain-relieving ointment for bruises.

Wilbur leaned his head back against the leather seat and closed his eyes. “Put it

on.”

Claire clutched the tube, still warm from his grip, completely speechless.

A strange, unexplainable sense of melancholy washed over her.

Ever since that kiss, their

relationship had changed. It had et

completely lost the easygoing,

comfortable vibe they had shared en

the island.

FindNovel.net

If she had known things would get this complicated, she never would have provoked

him.

She unscrewed the cap, dabbing a bit of the ointment onto her bruised wrist.

The sharp scent of herbs filled the car, and the icy sting of the gel made her flinch.

She couldn’t help it—she drew in a sharp breath.

Wilbur’s eyes snapped open instantly.

He turned his head, his gaze zeroing in on her wrist. His brows knit together in deep concern.

“Does it hurt?” he asked. His expression was still guarded, but his tone had dropped an octave.

“No, the ointment is just cold. It doesn’t hurt.”

Wilbur stared at her for two solid seconds, making sure she wasn’t just acting tough. Satisfied, he

bummed in response and lefelet

back again.

The car soon pulled up to Claire’s hotel.

She quickly thanked him and hurried out.

The car fell silent once more, the lingering scent of medicinal herbs heavy in the air.

A few seconds later, Wilbur spoke.

“You drive so fast, it’s a pity you’re not a race car driver,” he remarked dryly to his chauffeur.