Chapter 14
After Woodrow got out of the car, his indifferent gaze swept over Kaneeta and Edmund.
He seemed to pause slightly at the sight of her, but it lasted for just a fleeting moment.
“What a pleasant surprise, Frankie. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
Alan shook hands with Frankie and then said, “I’m treating Mr. Hartwell to dinner tonight.”
“Mr. Hartwell?” Frankie’s eyes lit up.
Even though Woodrow wasn’t from around here, everyone in the business world knew him.
Frankie and Edmund exchanged a glance and immediately reached a tacit understanding.
After greeting Woodrow, Frankie offered with a warm smile, “Hey, we’re gonna dine here tonight, too. Wanna share the
table? The more, the merrier.”
Alan naturally had no objections. After all, he wasn’t going to
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discuss any confidential matters with Woodrow tonight
anyway. Such business dinners often led to new partnerships, and if he got lucky, maybe he could close a deal between toasts.
“Mr. Hartwell, what do you think?” He turned to ask Woodrow.
Woodrow said, his voice flat, “Whatever you say, Mr. Harrison.”
Though he sounded casual, his commanding presence was not to be ignored.
Nervous, both Frankie and Alan had fawning smiles on their faces.
Even Edmund sensed Woodrow’s oppressive aura.
He couldn’t help but marvel silently–Woodrow surely was the heir of the Hartwell family, one of the four great families in Roseburn.
Then he instinctively turned to look at Kaneeta, only to see her gaze upon Woodrow.
Deeply annoyed, he furrowed his brows.
Driven by such emotion, he moved aside a few steps and
blocked her view.
She looked up at his back, a bit stunned.
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What had gotten into Edmund?
In fact, she was just remembering that day when Woodrow had
helped her.
But clearly, Woodrow had no intention of letting anyone know
they knew each other, and of course, she wouldn’t try to change
that.
The group went to a top–floor private room. After a few drinks,
the conversation somehow shifted to Kaneeta.
Frankie and the other clients of the Kuntz Group kept praising
her, saying she was young, capable, and efficient.
Facing their compliments, she maintained a humble, polite
smile.
But occasionally, she’d sense an intense gaze upon her.
Her gut told her it was Woodrow.
However, when she looked over to him, he was looking
somewhere else.
Was it all in her head?
As she was wondering, the few clients started to comment on
Nyasia.
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Frankie couldn’t hold his liquor and was already a bit tipsy.
Patting Edmund’s shoulder, he said, “Edmund, don’t blame me
for being blunt. Maybe you should hold off before letting Ms.
Kuntz handle deals–better yet, don’t involve her at all. Is she
your sister? I thought you were the only child. Or… is she your
girlfriend?”
Edmund’s expression stiffened a bit. He glanced at Kaneeta
before quickly explaining, “No, she’s not my girlfriend. Mr.
Carter, you misunderstood.”
A trace of mockery flickered in Kaneeta’s eyes.
Yes indeed. Nyasia wasn’t his girlfriend. She was his wife.
Frankie hiccupped. “Oh, really? Then you must’ve really taken a
liking to her, then, letting her take over the project Ms. Drayton
has worked on for so long.”
Edmund smiled, “Mr. Carter, you might want to go easy on the
alcohol.”
The cold glint flashing across his eyes sobered Frankie up
slightly.
He grinned a bit awkwardly. “You’re right, Mr. Kuntz. I had a bit too much to drink. I hope you don’t mind my little joke.”
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Just then, a waiter walked over and placed a bottle of wine in
front of Edmund.
Frowning slightly, he looked up and met Woodrow’s gaze.
“Mr. Kuntz” Woodrow’s eyes darkened, carrying unmistakable
pressure. “Care for a drink?”
Edmund’s gaze fell upon the wine bottle, his throat tightening.
He felt a strange unease in the pit of his stomach.
Woodrow was hostile toward him.
But he couldn’t bring himself to say no to Woodrow, as the latter’s commanding presence was almost like a giant net, leaving him no way out.
The waiter uncorked the wine, poured him a glass, and then retreated to the side again in silence.
Steadying himself, he picked up the glass and smiled at
Woodrow, “Cheers, Mr. Hartwell.”
With that, he gulped down the wine in one go.
Woodrow did the same.
Just as he thought it was over, Woodrow waved his hand, and
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the waiter stepped forward again and refilled their glasses.
“Mr. Kuntz,” Woodrow said, swirling the wine gently, “how
could just one glass ever be enough?”
The smile on Edmund’s face stiffened.
His instinct was right.
But why did Woodrow target him?
He wasn’t intimidated by Woodrow. After all, the Kuntz family
was top–notch in Calchester.
But he knew nothing would come out good if he messed with
Woodrow.
At this, he could only pick up the glass again and smiled,
“Touché, Mr. Hartwell. I’ll drink to that
After saying this, he downed the wine in one go again.
Soon, he furrowed his brows tightly, his face turning slightly
pale.
Honestly, he hated wine. He felt sick every time he drank–it
was nothing physical, but some deep–seated mental aversion.
Kaneeta knew this very well.
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So, whenever someone proposed a toast to him during business
dinners before, she had always drunk on his behalf.
She had never turned down a client’s toast, not even when
someone disapproved of her heroic act and deliberately put her
on the spot.
Sometimes, she got so drunk that her world was spinning, but she still smiled at him, saying, “At least now you don’t have to drink.”
But today…
As the waiter refilled Edmund’s glass again, he turned to look at Kaneeta.
She was sipping soup calmly, showing no intention of drinking on his behalf at all.
For some reason, his heart sank, and the feeling was way worse than any wine had ever made him feel.
Meanwhile, Woodrow kept pressuring him to drink.
After a few more glasses, he felt he was reaching his limit.
The booze started to kick in.
He was a lightweight. Beer was fine for him, but this bottle of
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wine was obviously stronger.
As the bottle was empty, the waiter uncorked a second one.
He was about to lose it. Parting his lips, he tried to change the subject. “Mr. Hartwell, I heard you’ve just purchased a piece of land in Haferbourne…”
“Mr. Kuntz,” Woodrow cut him off, not giving him a chance to continue, “leave business out of this room. Tonight, we drink.”
He couldn’t help but clench his fists, trying his best to hold back his anger.
Offending Woodrow over this was simply not worth it.
After a few more glasses, he was so close to slipping under the table. He instinctively looked at Kaneeta again, only to realize she couldn’t even be bothered to shoot him a glance. She even stood up and gently apologized to the others, “Sorry, I need to use the restroom.”
With that, she left decisively.
Staring at her retreating figure, he felt that the wine sat heavy in his chest, suffocating him.
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Standing in front of the sink, Kaneeta calmly washed her hands.
She didn’t know why Woodrow was suddenly pressuring
Edmund to drink, nor did she care to find out.
In fact, she had noticed Edmund’s constant pleading looks.
But that Kaneeta, who loved him deeply and was willing to give
up everything for him, was long gone.
She turned off the faucet and wiped her hands dry with tissues.
Just as she stepped out of the restroom, a shadow suddenly
loomed over her.
Frowning slightly, she was just about to look up to see who it
was when the man yanked her into a nearby vacant private
room.
The door was slammed shut.
Then she was pressed against the wall.
Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it jumping out of
her chest. Just as she was about to scream, he covered her
mouth with his hand.
“Ssh. It’s me.”
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It was… Woodrow.
She gradually calmed down. Though she didn’t exactly know
why, she just had this feeling–Woodrow wouldn’t hurt her.
She looked up.
It was Woodrow indeed. But then, she noticed his flushed
cheeks and hazy eyes.
Though he was trying to restrain himself, she could still tell his
condition was off.
She let out stifled sounds, struggling.
Finally, he let go of her. He staggered backward and collapsed
into a chair.
“Mr. Hartwell, are you OK?” She walked toward him.
“Don’t come over!” he warned her sternly, his eyes bloodshot.
Meanwhile, he was panting heavily. Suddenly, he yanked his
collar, and two buttons came off and fell to the floor.
“Mr. Hartwell…” She suddenly realized something. “Did…
someone tamper with your food or drink tonight?”
Judging from his looks, chances were, he was drugged with…
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aphrodisiac.
“Yes”
A bead of sweat rolled down Woodrow’s forehead, somehow
adding a touch of allure to his raw magnetism.
But Kaneeta wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it. Instead, she
was utterly wary.
Though she believed he was a gentleman, under the effects of
drugs, men could hardly control themselves.
“Mr. Hartwell, I’ll go ask for help.”
Just as she was about to leave, he clutched her wrist and pulled
her into his arms.
Sensing his searing breath, she exclaimed, “Mr. Hartwell! Let go
of me!”
But Woodrow still held her tightly, refusing to let go.
“Woodrow!” Utterly panicking, she even wanted to bite his
wrist.
Just then, he said, his voice strained, “I don’t know who did this
to me. Don’t let anyone else know.””
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She caught his drift at once.
He didn’t know who drugged him and what the person wanted.
So, he didn’t want anyone else to know he was here.
So … did it mean he hadn’t completely lost it?
“Now…”
His searing breath spread onto her neck, and she trembled all
over uncontrollably.
As he had just drunk a lot of wine, she could smell it on him
now. Yet, she didn’t find it unpleasant. On the contrary, it was…
captivating.
She looked up at him tentatively.
The moment she met his eyes, she was shocked by the raw lust
in them.
He traced her beautiful eyes, his fingers trembling, and he
swallowed hard.
“I need… your help…”
