Chapter 717

Chapter 717

Without another word, Mason carried Janet into the bathroom. He drained the lukewarm water from the tub and began refilling it with a fresh, cold stream. Suddenly, the tap sputtered and died—the water had cut out.

Mason’s gaze darkened, his voice dropping to a low, steady murmur. “I’ll take you upstairs. Just bear with it for a moment longer.”

Janet nuzzled against his chest, a soft, pained moan escaping her lips. The sound made Mason’s pupils dilate instantly, his heart hammering against his ribs. He hurried to the elevator, and the moment it reached the 15th floor, he surged into the presidential suite with Janet still cradled in his arms.

He placed her gently into the bathtub and wrenched the tap open. Janet looked up at him, her eyes hazy and her voice a rough, tired rasp. “It’s useless.”

I was submerged in icy water for so long, and it did nothing, she thought bitterly. I don’t feel as feverish as before, but the fire is still there. These high-grade aphrodisiacs are becoming too common. There are thousands of variations on the market; it would take four or five hours just to identify this specific strain. By the time I found the antidote, the drug would have run its course anyway.

Mason pressed his lips together, a cold, distant aura settling over him. Under any other circumstances, seeing her like this—helpless and bared to him—would have sent his imagination into a frenzy. But he wanted their first time to be perfect, a memory untainted by force or chemicals. He couldn't bring himself to make a move while she was in such visible agony.

“Are you planning to just endure it until it passes?” Mason asked, closing his eyes to keep from staring at her.

Janet’s gaze drifted to the sharp line of his jaw and the movement of his Adam’s apple. The sight sent a fresh jolt of desire through her. She inhaled sharply before forced out a single word: “Sedative.”

If I can just get a shot of a sedative, I can sleep through this, she reasoned. My body will still be in pain, but at least I won’t be conscious to feel it.

Mason nodded, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. “Good girl. I’ll have someone bring it up immediately.”

He kept one arm firmly around her waist while using the other to dial Sean. The call was answered instantly, but the background noise was deafening—the party was clearly still in full swing.

“The presidential suite on the 15th floor,” Mason barked into the phone. “Send a female doctor up with a sedative. Keep it quiet.”

Janet shook her head weakly. “Forget the doctor.”

“Forget the doctor,” Mason repeated into the line.

Sean was silent for a beat, likely stunned, but he didn't ask questions. “Give me ten minutes.”

An hour had passed since the drug had taken hold of Janet’s system. She had managed to endure the first sixty minutes with sheer willpower, but her vision was finally beginning to fail her. Her hand moved instinctively toward Mason’s waist, her face pressing against his abdomen.

“Hot... it feels so hot,” she whispered.

Mason’s breath hitched. He caught her wandering hand, holding it firmly as he leaned down to reassure her. “Stay with me. Sean is almost here.”

Janet nearly lost her grip on reality at the sound of his husky, seductive voice. If I weren't in love with this man, I wouldn't be reacting like this, she realized. But the man she loved was right in front of her, and the drug was turning her love into a desperate, uncontrollable hunger.

Mason had tested dozens of poisons in his time, including aphrodisiacs, but he had never been in love then. He had endured them through clinical detachment. Seeing Janet—the legendary J’Adore—struggling like this led him to only two conclusions: either her love for him made her vulnerable, or this drug was far purer and more potent than anything he had ever encountered.