With both hosts gone, there was no point in Emily Blair sticking around. The other guests lingered for a bit, glancing at her, but no one dared say anything. Before long, people drifted away in small, whispering groups.
Emily set her wine glass down. As she lifted her head, a sudden wave of dizziness swept over her, and a strange warmth began to crawl beneath her skin. She reached out, gripping the table just in time to keep herself upright.
Something was definitely wrong. Her mind raced, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the wine. Someone had spiked her drink.
Just then, an arm slid around her waist, steadying her as she nearly lost her balance. Andrew Lane’s voice was close, deep and familiar. “What’s wrong?”
The drug was kicking in fast. Emily could hardly keep her body under control. Andrew’s clean, cool scent surrounded her, making it even harder to resist the urge to lean into him, to let herself fall.
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the heat, and pushed him away. “Don’t touch me…” Her voice was tight, almost icy, though she could barely keep it together.
Suddenly, a group of men in waiter uniforms appeared out of nowhere, hurrying over as if to help. They reached for her, pretending to be concerned.
Emily’s mind was still sharp enough to know a trap when she saw one. Instinctively, she slipped behind Andrew, trying to focus on the men’s faces, even as her vision blurred.
Andrew moved instantly, blocking their path and keeping her shielded behind him.
The lead waiter stopped, dropping his hands as he forced a pleasant smile, his eyes shining with fake worry. “We noticed Ms. Blair wasn’t feeling well. Please, let us take her to the hospital.”
It was such a bad act, almost laughable. They didn’t even bother to hide the hunger and ugliness in their eyes.

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