Chapter 2

Quinn POV：

How on earth could I dare!

My mind went completely blank, tongue-tied and utterly unable to counter his outrageous statement. For the first time in my life, I was thoroughly crushed in a battle of words. If he were not my billionaire CEO, I would have flipped the table and torn that deadpan mouth of his to pieces right then and there.

"Lord Winston, Dr. Bloom has arrived." An older maid appeared quietly by the archway.

He did not reply immediately, his dark gaze resting silently on me.

My skin prickled with unbearable heat. With fair skin and naturally golden hair, my mixed heritage had always drawn attention, but beneath his unblinking scrutiny, the flush on my cheeks ignited like wildfire.

"Follow me," Winston finally said, letting out a breath so faint it was almost imperceptible.

I followed him obediently. What choice did I have after tangling with the apex predator of the luxury fashion world?

He led me straight back to the master bedroom, the exact battlefield where we had waged war last night. The sight of that massive mattress made my palms break into a cold sweat, even though the maid had already stripped away the chaos and redressed it in crisp, spotless linens.

A professional female physician in a tailored medical coat stepped into the room. Winston turned, walked out into the corridor, and pulled the heavy door shut behind him.

I had braced myself for an interrogation, an invasive toxicology screen, or a forced morning-after injection to purge any trace of his S-class biology. It was none of those things.

Instead, Dr. Julianna Bloom opened a silver case and pulled out a jar of chilled, pharmaceutical-grade anti-inflammatory gel. She had me loosen the high collar of my suit and gently massaged the translucent balm over my tender gland, smoothing it down across the raw, friction-burned hollows beneath my collarbones.

The icy salve worked like magic, dulling the throbbing ache within seconds.

The entire time, I buried my face in both hands, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. It was mortifying beyond words.

By the time I walked out into the private foyer, Winston had already left for corporate headquarters.

Waiting for me downstairs was Liam Foster.

Liam was twenty-two, the exact same age as me. We had graduated from the same university, applied to Kensington Luxe in the same recruitment drive, and started on the very same day. The only difference was that while I was grinding away as an entry-level designer, Liam had quickly proven his sharp instincts and risen to become Winston Kensington's sole executive assistant.

Standing beside the sleek black Maybach in the underground garage, Liam flashed me a wide, mischievous grin. My dignity felt like it had shattered into dust across the concrete floor.

I slipped into the leather passenger seat, pressed my forehead against the cool tinted window, and muttered, "Did I... get into the wrong car last night?"

"You certainly did, future Lady Kensington," Liam teased, leaning back as he started the engine. "I have known you for four years, and I have never seen you drink that much champagne. You climbed into the wrong car, saw the boss sitting in the back, threw both arms around his neck, and started planting kisses all over his face. You were ferocious!"

Liam glanced over at me with an amused smirk. "The boss had a couple of drinks in him too, but you know the man has notorious germaphobia. He was practically paralyzed, terrified to move a muscle, while you went ahead and tore his bespoke shirt wide open, popping half the pearl buttons across the leather seats."

I slumped deeper into the seat, burying my burning face in my hands as the humiliating scene played out in my head.

"I offered to drive you back to your rental in Queens," Liam continued, "but considering you live alone, the boss figured you were too wasted to take care of yourself. So he had me bring you straight up to his private penthouse instead."

"Ha. Ha." I forced a stiff, lifeless smile.

"So, you and the boss..." Liam glanced over, scanning my appearance from head to toe.

I had to give Winston credit where it was due. The man had uncanny foresight; my visible neckline was completely pristine.

"As you can see," I said, pointing a finger at my immaculate, bare throat.

"Looks like the boss was still too much of a gentleman," Liam remarked with a low whistle.

"Right," I dragged the syllable out with heavy sarcasm. "A gentleman. A total hypocrite."

It was the first working day after the long holiday weekend. Most of the corporate world was easing back into the rhythm, and plenty of senior staff were still enjoying paid time off. But ordinary wage slaves like me still had to report to the salt mines on time.

I made sure Liam dropped me off two blocks away from the Kensington Luxe tower. His car was the CEO's personal transport; if anyone from the design studio saw me stepping out of that Maybach, I would be roasted alive on the office grapevine before lunchtime.

I slipped out at the corner and darted straight into a quiet corner apothecary.

I walked up to the counter and bought a heavy-duty, over-the-counter morning-after scent-neutralizing contraceptive pill. I had no idea whether he had taken precautions during the chaos of his rut, but I was not taking any chances.

I swallowed the pill dry with a bitter gulp, determined to squash any possibility of an unexpected pregnancy before it could even begin.