The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 33

Chapter 33 Julius Appears

“All right then,” Laura replied, before heading off toward the parking lot.

Quinn stepped out to the hotel entrance. A wave of heat surged through her body, far more intense than she had expected. Clearly, the effects of the drugged mist were stronger than she’d anticipated.

Just then, a cold, familiar voice sounded behind her. “Ms. Bridger. What a coincidence. We meet again.”

Quinn turned to see Julius’ handsome face.

But this was no coincidence. She had come today specifically to return the clothes he’d lent her. Unfortunately, they were still in Laura’s car.

“Waiting for someone?” Julius asked.

“Yes. A friend’s giving me a ride to the police station.” Since Julius had attended the party too, he’d likely heard what had happened.

“Why not let me take you?” he offered.

Before she could respond, a silver-grey Maybach rolled smoothly to a stop in front of them. Without giving her a chance to protest, Julius took her wrist and guided her into the car.

“Wait!” Quinn protested, reaching for the door to get out.

But the door was locked. The car had already begun to move, and her left wrist was still held tightly in Julius’s grip. For a moment, she couldn’t break free.

Not far off, Laura had just arrived near the hotel entrance when her eyes widened in disbelief. No way… Quinn just got dragged into Julius’s car? Where is he taking her?

Inside the car, Quinn shot Julius a sharp glare. “Mr. Whitethorn, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m giving you a ride,” Julius replied smoothly.

“There’s no need,” Quinn said coldly. “Please ask your driver to stop. My friend is picking me up.”

“But what if I insist on giving it?” Julius didn’t budge. A faint smile played on his lips, teasing yet unreadable. His slender fingers remained wrapped firmly around her wrist.

The coolness of his touch clashed with the rising heat of her skin, triggering a strange, almost dizzying

sensation.

She frowned. “Let go of me.”

Julius’ gaze flickered, the amusement in his eyes darkening into something unreadable. His fingers grazed lightly across her wrist. “Are you sure you want me to let go?”

A shiver rippled through Quinn’s body as a tingling sensation radiated from her wrist, spreading like wildfire. The heat inside her surged, burning hotter with every passing second.

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“You’re not doing too well, are you?” Julius’ low voice drifted into her car. “Are you sure you still want to go to the police station?”

Quinn bit her lip, her gaze drawn-unwillingly-to his mouth, watching the slow, deliberate movement as he spoke. Her throat tightened, suddenly parched.

She needed water. Or something else.

The searing heat pulsing through her veins was no longer something she could ignore. It screamed at her, warning her of the chemical influence overtaking her senses.

The mist’s effects were far stronger than she’d anticipated. She needed to cool her body down, and fast,

“Mr. Whitethorn,” she managed, slightly out of breath, eyes pointedly avoiding his face, “if it’s not too much trouble… could you take me to the hospital?”

Even as she spoke, she could feel an almost primal pull. Under the drug’s influence, he had become dangerously alluring, like honey to a starved bear. The urge to get closer, to touch, and to taste him, was almost overwhelming.

Stop! You can’t keep thinking like this! she screamed internally.

“Instead of going to the hospital, wouldn’t it be quicker to just use the antidote?” Julius asked.

“Antidote?” Quinn blinked, caught off guard.

“How about I be your antidote, Ms. Bridger?” he added, tone light and unbothered, as if he were offering her a cup of tea, not himself.

Quinn choked on her own breath, coughing violently. Wait… by ‘antidote,’ does he mean what I think he means?

Up in the front seat, the driver and Fabian were frozen in disbelief.

Did we just hear that right? Mr. Whitethorn actually said he’d be her antidote? Since when has he ever said anything like that to a woman?

Julius had never been one to show interest in women. There was once a well-known socialite in Jexburgh who had boldly confessed her love for him. Desperate, she even climbed to the edge of a rooftop, threatening to jump if he refused to give her a chance.

“If I don’t even have the chance to win your heart, then I might as well be dead.” She sobbed.

Julius, unfazed, lit a cigarette and glanced at her with cool indifference. “Then you might as well go ahead,” he said flatly. “Because I could never love you.”

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