The discomfort was so unbearable that Elena felt as though her blood vessels were about to burst.
How cruel Vivian had been! Elena had only taken a sip of the coffee, and yet the drug's effects were already so potent. She hated to think what would have happened if she'd drunk more.
Elena felt as though her head was going to explode. At the same time, there was a strange numbness, along with an overwhelming, unquenchable thirst, as though she had been wandering through a dry desert for ages.
Water… I need some water…
She managed to croak out the words, her throat dry and her body burning with feverish heat, desperate for relief.
"I'll take you to the hospital."
The man in the front seat had already recognized what was happening to Elena.
"Help me, please. I'll do anything for you…" Elena clutched the man's hand in desperation. He was her last hope in this desolate, lonely place.
"Just hold on a little longer."
The man frowned. He wasn't someone who usually meddled in other people's problems. On any other day, he would've thrown her out of the car. However, for some reason, when he saw the fear and desperation in Elena's eyes, something stirred inside him.
"Thank you…"
Elena kept her words simple. In truth, at that moment, it never crossed her mind that the man might have bad intentions.
Her only thought was to survive.
Elena's grip tightened on the man's hand as she cried, "I don't want to die."
The man's gaze softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You're a lucky woman. You're not dying tonight."
In that moment, Elena was like a stranded mermaid. The lace dress she wore clung to her form, her flushed face making her all the more alluring.
The man stiffened. The woman in the backseat, vulnerable and desperate, was incredibly tempting.
His voice became hoarse. "I'm Damian Blackwell. You owe me."
Elena, too weak to comprehend, had already lost consciousness. The pain and exhaustion had taken over.
Damian slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped toward the nearest hospital affiliated with the Blackwell group. Minutes later, he was handing Elena over to the waiting doctor.
That night, Elena had a vivid, erotic dream. It was a dream about a night from years ago that she wished she could forget.
When she woke up, it was already past noon the next day.
The memories of the night before rushed back into her mind. When she realized where she was, a heavy lump formed in her throat.
Her life had been saved, but now Elena Cross realized she couldn't stay with Ethan Caldwell any longer.
She glanced around and noticed a man lying on the edge of the bed, sound asleep. He was incredibly handsome, and even she, a woman, couldn't help but admire his appearance.
His features were strong and angular, with defined brows and a high nose that gave him an almost regal look.
Her eyes traveled down to his upper body, where his lean, toned muscles were clearly defined. He exuded a quiet strength.
The previous night, Elena had found herself in an impossible situation, yet this man had not taken advantage of her. Instead, he had gotten her to safety, even taking her to the hospital.
Thinking about it now, Elena felt herself blush.
What on earth had she been thinking?
Was she hoping for something more?
Noticing the man still asleep, Elena quietly sat up. The movement made him stir.
"So, you're just going to slip away after I saved you?"
Damian Blackwell stretched lazily and fixed his gaze on Elena with a teasing smile.
He'd already been awake, and if he hadn't stirred, she likely would have slipped away unnoticed.
"You owe me for last night. Were you really going to leave just like that?"
"Huh? No, I didn't…" Elena stuttered, momentarily at a loss for words. This man had, after all, been her savior in her darkest hour, and his pointed remark made her feel guilty.
"Thank you," she said, her voice soft.