The scent of Liam Burkhart filled her nostrils, making her feel nauseous. She almost fainted in his arms.
Liam Burkhart’s scent wasn’t unpleasant; it had a faint perfume smell. But when you hate someone, everything about them is detestable. Not just their actions, even their existence feels like a mistake.
Liam Burkhart signaled the bodyguards to buy something while he asked the waiter to take him to a private room to sleep.
Liam Burkhart walked quickly, leaving the waiter who was initially ahead of him behind.
The waiter had to quicken her pace, trying to keep up with him in her high heels. “Mr. Whitlock, are you in a hurry?”
“I’m not in a hurry.”
If you’re not in a hurry, why are you walking so fast? Liam Burkhart had a room card but was carrying someone in his arms and had no free hand. The waiter followed mainly to open the door for him.
The door opened, and Liam Burkhart carried Winifred Dawson inside.
The waiter said the usual polite phrases, mentioning that if there was anything needed, they could press the call button and she would be available at any time to ensure complete relaxation and enjoyment.
Despite saying he wasn’t in a hurry, Liam Burkhart kicked the door shut with his foot as soon as they entered the room. The loud bang interrupted the waiter’s words.
Can’t even wait for a few words? The waiter looked at the closed door, feeling something was off but couldn’t pinpoint what. She turned and left but kept glancing back at the door.
Liam Burkhart threw Winifred Dawson onto the bed. Instead of immediately indulging himself, he got up and opened the wine cabinet, taking out a bottle of red wine.
Red wine pairs perfectly with fine dining. Having finally obtained this person, he wanted to savor it step by step, like eating Western cuisine-slowly and elegantly.
Soon, he would taste Winifred Dawson thoroughly.
He poured a glass of wine and sat by the bed. “Would you like some wine?” he asked.
Winifred Dawson didn’t respond. Liam Burkhart took a sip himself, savoring the rich flavor of the fine wine.
With a sigh of satisfaction, Liam Burkhart pretended to be kind and gently advised, “I suggest you drink some wine. Since you’re so unwilling, alcohol can give you courage. If you get drunk, you’ll be less resistant to sleeping with me.”
The last person who spoke so casually about sleeping together was Leland Burns.
Leland Burns and Liam Burkhart were alike; both belonged to the same circle and were similar types of people.
Winifred Dawson’s face was pale and sickly. The room’s color scheme was sea blue-the curtains were blue, and so was the bed.
Lying on it, her face looked snow-white against the blue backdrop. Her black hair stuck to her face with sweat, making her look enchanting like a mermaid.
Some people can perfectly blend innocence with allure. Winifred Dawson had such a face that she wouldn’t starve if she became an escort; many men would spend lavishly just for her smile.
Even in today’s entertainment industry filled with beautiful women, finding someone who could rival Winifred Dawson was difficult.
In short, she had an unmatched combination of beauty and elegance that made her irresistible. Seeing Winifred Dawson remain silent made Liam Burkhart’s hands itch to touch her.
He planned to force-feed her wine. Roughly lifting her head by her hair, he showed no tenderness or care for her pain.
The sudden sharp pain on her scalp brought Winifred Dawson back to some semblance of consciousness. Her eyes narrowed into slits; she looked powerless and unthreatening.
Liam Burkhart’s eyes were fixed on Winifred Dawson’s captivating face as he held her head with one hand and brought the wine glass to her lips with the other. He didn’t notice that Winifred Dawson’s hand had been in her pocket all along. As he focused on making her drink, she swiftly pulled out something shiny-a key-and aimed for his neck with deadly intent in her eyes.
Liam Burkhart instinctively leaned back but couldn’t avoid getting slashed across his jaw instead of his neck. Pain shot through his face as blood flowed freely from the wound.
Winifred Dawson’s unexpected move caught him off guard despite his quick reflexes.
Writhing in pain and clutching his bleeding face, Liam Burkhart felt humiliated. He had only ever been bested by two people: Leland Burns and now Winifred Dawson.
The last time Leland Burns broke his bones, he spent ages recovering in the hospital while plotting revenge daily. Now Winifred Dawson had scarred his face-not just aiming to injure but intending to kill him by targeting his neck.
He always knew Winifred Dawson was ruthless; witnessing her brutal revenge on Leland Burns had seemed satisfying from afar. But now that he was the victim, it hurt deeply.
Gritting his teeth in pain and anger, Liam Burkhart glared at Winifred Dawson holding the bloody key. She breathed heavily; whether from satisfaction or fear was unclear.
Everyone cares about their appearance; even though Liam Burkhart was a man, he took great care of his looks-washing and moisturizing daily. Now his face was ruined by Winifred Dawson’s attack.
Without a mirror to see how bad it was but feeling blood-soaked hands and numbness spreading across half his face told enough about its severity-it might have even damaged facial nerves leading potentially to permanent disfigurement or paralysis if unlucky enough!
Fuming more intensely at every thought crossing mind: “Damn!” burst out angrily before cursing loudly: “Winifred Dawson! Damn your father!”
Calmly replying while inching towards edge bed cautiously observing surroundings planning escape route: “My father died long ago; if you don’t mind ashes visit West City Cemetery Row Twelve Plot Twelve.”
She spoke nonchalantly yet moved strategically watching every move ready seizing opportunity flee anytime possible!