“Ruby, you really can’t handle your liquor.”
Morgan’s voice oozed with a sickly sweetness, as if a venomous serpent were whispering in her ear, its tongue flicking, leaving an invisible trail of slime.
Ruby’s head felt heavy, her legs unsteady; the world spun in dizzy circles before her eyes.
She blinked hard, trying to steady herself, but clarity wouldn’t come. Without Morgan’s arm around her, she’d probably have collapsed face-first onto the floor by now.
Morgan watched with growing satisfaction as Ruby slowly lost her grip on consciousness. His gaze darkened, intent.
He leaned in, voice rough and low, almost hypnotic. “Rue, let me get you somewhere to rest. You’re not feeling well.”
His breath was warm against her ear, and the words, “You’re not feeling well,” seemed to burrow into her mind, lulling her into a foggy trance. Suddenly, she felt unbearably hot, as if a fever were rising from her neck to her cheeks, making her head swim even more.
“Mm…”
Her voice was a faint murmur, but Morgan’s eyes shone with anticipation.
He guided Ruby out of the bar, heading straight for the nearest hotel. He chose a quiet side street, avoiding attention. At the front desk, the staff barely glanced up; they checked him in quickly and discreetly.
Not far away, in a shadowy corner no one bothered to notice, Hayley watched Morgan with clenched fists and gritted teeth. “I knew he was up to no good! No wonder he was so eager to hand Asher over.”
“A trap,” Fanny said coldly.
“But what do we do now? Ruby just went up there with him.”
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