A torn dress and a wrinkled shirt lay scattered beside the hotel bed.
Hanna Wheeler found herself ensnared by a massive hand, her senses dulled by the swirling effects of a potent drug and the heated breath of an unfamiliar man.
Her voice hoarse and her entire being aflame, she endured the onslaught of his aggressive kisses.
A peculiar blend of pain and pleasure sent shivers across her skin, and then she felt a discomforting sensation between her legs.
Yet, amidst the haze, she recalled her fiancé, Ryland Quinn, giving her a glass of wine under the instigation of her sister, Emerie Wheeler.
If Ryland, that scoundrel, hadn't drugged her, how would she find herself breaking into this man's room, subjected to such torment?
It was beyond her wildest imagination that the gentle and considerate fiancé she thought she knew had betrayed her, entangling himself with Emerie, the adopted daughter of her parents.
He drugged her, aiming to tarnish her reputation. Had she not escaped, she could have fallen victim to a gang of ruffians.
In a semi-conscious state, gritting her teeth, she whispered, "Ryland Quinn..."
The man halted, his voice a low and cold. "Hanna?"
Did he know her?
Struggling to open her eyes, she could only make out his cold, red eyes.
Lost in the throes of ecstasy, she leaned on the man's shoulder, breathless.
It all felt like a nightmarish dream.
It was unclear to Hanna when she entirely lost consciousness as a result of their intimacy. She was simply uncomfortable all over and had an embarrassing discomfort between her legs when she woke up again.
As she glanced at the bedsheet and the suggestive red marks on her body, the memories of the previous night flooded back.
How could she have shared intimate moments with a stranger?
But he had called her by name. He knew her.
Her countenance darkened.