Chapter 409 The Man with the Knife
Odette glanced at the guy handling the syringe, a thought forming in her mind.
She didn't know what drug had just been injected into her, but she was sure it wasn't anything good.
She needed to escape before the drug took effect.
And the best way to do that was to deal with the man in front of her.
"Hey, could you untie me? This rope is hurting me!" Odette said sweetly, hoping her charm would work.
She intended to use her looks to her advantage.
Unfortunately, she was wrong.
The guy in front of her was completely unfazed by her act, and her quick change in demeanor only made him feel disgusted.
"Get lost!" he spat coldly.
Men in his line of work, taking money to solve problems for others, were used to women like Odette, who would do anything to save their skin.
Odette's eyes widened. This was the second man to reject her attempts at flirting.
The first was Quentin.
She wanted to say more, but an unusual sensation began to take over her mind.
She felt like her whole body was on fire.
She knew her own body well enough to understand what was happening.
Odette suddenly realized what drug had been used; it was the same one she had given Quentin.
She also realized who she had offended: the man she had been obsessing over, Quentin.
Was this karma?
Odette laughed bitterly. She never would have dreamed that Quentin would have someone drug her.
That man knew she was inexperienced, yet he wanted someone else to take her first time?
No, it couldn't be.
Odette dismissed the negative thoughts about Quentin from her mind. She couldn't believe Quentin would do this to her.
It had to be Lauren.
Odette had only kidnapped her once. The attempted assault failed.
Why was Lauren holding such a grudge?
The more Odette thought about it, the angrier she became. She hated Lauren with a passion.
She swore that as long as she was alive, she would make Lauren's life miserable.
"The order said to take you to 64th Street, but that's too much trouble, and you might run," the guy said, aware of Odette's condition but not noble enough to help her.
Odette's eyes were hazy, and in that haze, the guy spoke his final words.
"So I called the people from 64th Street to come here." He said.
As if on cue, a group of flashy young men walked in. Their eyes lit up when they saw Odette.
Odette could feel their lewd gazes roaming over her legs and chest, but she could only resign herself to her fate.
Quentin, upon hearing that Odette had been dealt with, returned to Lauren's room.
Free from the influence of drugs, he decided to explain things to Lauren and expose the lies she had told earlier.
He believed that this would help them reconcile.
After knocking several times with no response, Quentin pushed open the door to find the room lit only by a dim nightlight.
Lauren was curled up under the covers, fast asleep, her eyes slightly red from crying.
Why was she crying? Was it because he had rejected her?
Quentin chose to believe this, hoping that Lauren still loved him and not Gregory.
Quentin walked quietly to Lauren's bed, lifted the covers, and lay down beside her.
He reached out to turn off the nightlight and carefully embraced Lauren.
The person in his arms seemed to sense his familiar presence, unconsciously moving closer like a gentle kitten, nuzzling against him.
A rare smile appeared on Quentin's face. He mouthed a silent goodnight to Lauren and fell asleep.
The next morning, Lauren woke up in Quentin's arms.
She sat up with her eyes closed, stretching. She felt like she hadn't slept this well in a long time.
She opened her eyes to check the time but noticed the arm around her waist.
Following the arm, she saw the person she had dreamed of last night, Quentin.
The cold man had a smile on his face, as if he had dreamed something wonderful.
Lauren had also had a good dream, but she wasn't in the mood to recall it now. Her feelings were complicated.
She was both happy and sad.
Happy because Quentin had held her all night, and sad because she remembered what Quentin had said to her.
Had Quentin come to the wrong room?
He should have gone to Odette.
Lauren suppressed her happy feelings, refusing to let herself be deluded by Quentin's small gesture.
But she had to admit, Quentin looked really good when he was asleep.
Lauren lay back down, facing Quentin.
It had been a long time since she had looked at Quentin like this.
She remembered only the perfect Quentin from her fantasies, but the man in front of her was the cold, ruthless Mr. Robinson.
"Had enough staring?" Quentin's voice was thick with sleep.
He had noticed Lauren watching him but had patiently waited until now to speak.
He thought this was his gentlest voice, but to Lauren, it sounded different.
"Sorry, Mr. Robinson, I didn't mean to look at you," Lauren suddenly bristled, like a pufferfish, putting up all her defenses.
She took Quentin's words as a sign of impatience.
It wasn't that she didn't sense Quentin's gentleness; she just didn't dare to acknowledge it.
Lauren couldn't believe Quentin was being gentle with her. She wasn't that self-centered, nor did she have the courage.
She knew her appeal.
Apart from Ethan and Gregory, no one had ever confessed to her. If she were Quentin, she wouldn't be interested in Lauren either.
"Say that again?" Quentin narrowed his eyes, his whole demeanor radiating danger.
He was in a foul mood, especially bad.
He didn't understand why Lauren was antagonizing him so early in the morning. He had been so gentle.
He had given all his gentleness to Lauren, but she seemed indifferent.
Lauren sensed Quentin's mood shift but didn't realize it was because of her.
She thought Quentin was genuinely impatient.
Lauren repeated her words, adding, "Mr. Robinson, please wear your glasses at night so you don't go to the wrong room and hold the wrong person."
She wished Quentin hadn't gone to the wrong room, but could she tell him that?
The answer was no.
If she told him, it would be like saying she liked him.
She couldn't do that.
Her love was like a piece of meat on a chopping board, and Quentin was the man with the knife. He had the power to mold her heart, to crush it, to torment it.
She didn't want that, so she had to lock her heart away.
Telling herself, she couldn't afford to love.
"Do you have the right to tell me what to do?" Quentin asked coldly. "What gives you the right?"
His good mood had been completely ruined by Lauren, and she had no idea.
His tone was harsh, and it was all Lauren's fault.
"Is that so?" Lauren laughed.
She had known all along that the gentleness was an illusion. The coldness was the real Quentin, the attitude and tone he should have had towards her.
She shouldn't have expected anything from Quentin.
She wouldn't anymore. Never again.
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