[TW: Drugging, Attempted SA]
But as soon as Matteo shook his head, Alia’s face slowly disappeared, morphing into that of Emline’s again.
Was that a hallucination?
"Oh dear," Emline cooed. "You must be tired. I should go so that you can rest. Here, let bring you to your room."
Matteo wanted to refuse, but he soon found his voice weak and raspy. He could barely even form a word, much less push Emline away from him. She leaned forward and pulled him into her arms. Her soft body was pressed against him, and Matteo felt his body naturally react to the contact.
For one thing, his entire body felt scorching hot. It was as though soone had thrust him into the fires of hell and left him burning alive. Every inch of his skin felt as though there were fire ants nibbling at his flesh, and only the parts where Emline touched felt slightly cool.
However, he still had the rational mind to pull away, just not the physical ability to do so.
As such, Emline all too easily pulled him up and supported him to his room as he was trying to retreat himself. She trailed after him, and when they got past the threshold, Matteo could barely even make it to the bed.
He grunted before falling onto the mattress, and Emline stood behind him, watching him struggle. Slowly, she made her way forward before helping him turn around. His eyes were shut and his breathing was labored, causing his broad, muscular chest to rise and fall with each breath.
Emline smiled before reaching for his buttons, undoing them one by one before pulling his shirt open. Then, she reached for his belt.
Before she could touch the buckle, her hands were suddenly stopped by a strong grip. Emline instinctively gasped in shock, and when she looked up, she was t with the bright glare of Matteo’s blue eyes.
"Don’t... touch... ..." He hardly got the words out, but they were venomous, his veins popping against the skin of his neck.
"You can’t sleep in these clothes, darling," Emline cooed, her voice sickly sweet. "I am just helping you get comfortable.
"Only... wife... can..."
"I am your wife," Emline said.
She then climbed onto the bed, purposely shrugging her clothes off and chucking them by the foot of the bed as she did so. In the moonlight of the young night, her pale skin was practically gleaming, reflecting the silver rays like a porcelain doll.
"Wife...?" Matteo slurred his words.
The sight before him morphed between Emline and Alia’s face, and for a second, he could no longer discern which was real. As a result, his grip on her hand loosened, and Emline quickly took that as a sign to continue undressing him.
She undid his belt and then unzipped his pants, freeing him from the constricting fabric. The second his clothes were ripped off, leaving him only in his boxers, Matteo instantly felt cooler than before. However, it wasn’t enough.
He still felt as though his body was getting ravaged by hellhounds, burnt into a smoldering crisp. A sticky sheen of sweat had already gathered over his skin. The only thing that could satiate this burning sensation was...
"Alia..."
Emline had leaned forward and was about to press her lips against Matteo’s, but the mont she heard the na, her entire body froze. It was as though a bucket of cold water had been splashed on her and she hurriedly pulled away, staring at Matteo in disbelief.
"What?" she muttered, horror written across her face, accompanied by disbelief.
Here she was, the flower of the wealthy circle, sitting here in a set of lingerie on a man’s bed — her fiancé, no less — and the na that escaped his lips was that of his assistant. How many other n could only dream of being in his situation? How many would drool in envy if they knew?
How could Matteo do this to her?
"I finally... found you, Alia..." he continued to murmur, his eyebrows furrowed. "I... love you..."
His breaths were only getting heavier and heavier by the second― the drug Emline had used was working a little too well. However, even though his body reacted due to the drug, his mind was still on that skank!
Emline’s eyes twitched, and this ti, it was her turn to scoff in anger. She got out of bed, pacing around for a few seconds as she clenched her fists in fury.
She was Matteo Montgory’s fiancée. Her! Emline Hawthorne! And yet, despite their engagent since they were children, Matteo was here thinking of another woman? A woman he claid to be in love with despite having t less than a month ago?
This was ridiculous. She stood at the door― her pride told her to walk away, but she couldn’t. Not when becoming Mrs. Montgory was what she had wanted for all her life, ever since she had laid eyes on him the day he visited the Hawthorne estate.
That day, Emline had already made up her mind. She was going to marry Matteo Montgory no matter what it took.
Making her way over to her clothes, she pulled the brooch off the lapels of her jacket before placing it on the cabinet adjacent to the bed. It would have a clear view of the bed and everything that happened there. Once she was done, she returned to the bed, reaching back to unclasp her own bra.
Emline Hawthorne was going to be Matteo Montgory’s wife, either by hook or by crook. Whatever it took, she would beco the only woman in Matteo’s life.
Climbing back onto the bed, she sat down on his lap before leaning forward. Her lips were hovering just inches away from her, and as though he knew who it was resting on top of him, Matteo veered his head away.
Emline had to reach down and clasp his face in place so that he faced her. With her bare legs straddling his torso, she could feel his temperature rising as the aphrodisiac and alcohol word through his body.
He could remain sowhat rational now, but once the aphrodisiac fully kicked into effect, he would beco an insatiable beast.
"You are mine, Matteo Montgory," she murmured, watching as he began to squirm a little beneath her weight. "In this lifeti, you can only be mine!"
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