Flash Marriage: Slow Down Mister
Chapter 100 You Asked for It!

"Hottie, the way you squat is so provocative. Who are you trying to seduce?"

Clara's heart skipped a beat. She looked up and saw a man with a dazzling shirt who looked like a jerk. He was squinting at her, his eyes overflowing with desire.

Clara couldn't pay more attention to her phone. She stood up with a stagger, and turned around, wanting to leave.

Yet the man grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms.

"Where are you going, hottie? Your phone is still in my hand."

Clara felt like throwing up when the man touched her body.

She started to tremble, her body turning hot. The guy was a player, he immediately knew that Clara was drugged. He got excited and asked, "Hottie, someone drugged you? You must be suffering now. Let me help."

As he spoke, he reached out to Clara's waist.

Clara screamed in fear.

No!

Hell no!

She didn't want one more experience of the nasty thing that happened two years ago.

Thinking of this, she pushed the man yet to no avail. The man was too strong. He was reaching out to her breasts.

She was about to collapse yet suddenly she heard a sound.

Something was smashed over from afar.

The next second, she heard it crash on the man's head. And the man's disgusting smile disappeared. Blood ran down her face.

All happened in a second. Clara didn't even realize what was going on. The man had fallen to the ground, beside him was the debris of a vase stained with blood.

Clara looked up in a panic and saw a tall figure at the end of the corridor whose hand was in front of his body for he had just thrown something.

At one glance, Clara recognized the person. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes.

It was Horace.

He came to save her.

Before she cooled it, Horace strode over.

Yes, striding, not in a wheelchair. He strode to her in a place full of people.

Soon, Horace stopped beside Clara, his handsome face a bit pale. He embraced Clara and looked into her teary eyes, whispering, "Clara, are you alright?"

Only then did Clara come back to her sense. She looked at Horace, who was standing in front of her, and asked in a flustered low voice, "Horace, where... where is your wheelchair?"

They were at a bar crowded with people. If anyone recognized him and told Sean, all the years he had pretended to be a cripple would be a waste.

As she spoke, she saw Isaac running over anxiously from the end of the corridor with the wheelchair. Horace was too fast, and Isaac failed to catch up with him.

Unlike Clara, who was in a panic, Horace was not in the mood to pay attention to this. He noticed Clara's unnatural blush and could feel that her temperature was higher than usual. "Are you drugged?" He asked.

Clara was so worried about Horace that she didn't pay attention to herself. Hearing Horace's question she found that her temperature was getting even higher now in Horace's embrace. She felt like a fire running about in her body.

She wanted to say something yet when she parted her lips, it turned into a moan. Even she was surprised by the allure of her voice.

Isaac pushed the wheelchair beside Horace, he was out of breath. He looked around anxiously and was confirmed that no one should have seen Horace. Then, he lowered his voice and said, "Mr. Kirkland, the wheelchair, please come sit down."

Horace ignored him. Instead, he bent down and picked up Clara with both of his hands.

"Mr. Kirkland..."

Isaac asked immediately. Yet Horace had walked outward with Clara in his arms while instructing,

"Book a room for me in the hotel nearby."

Horace brought Clara to the hotel in the shortest time possible. During the way, several people pointed at them, judging. Yet he ignored all of them.

Entering the room, he put Clara in the bathtub immediately and then turned on the tap. Cold water ran on her body. He said in a harsh tone, "Clara, wake up!"

The cold water cooled down Clara's skin, yet the fire inside of her remained unaffected.

The contract of the cold from the outside and the burns from the inside made her suffer a lot.

She curled up in the bath, and said with great struggle, "I feel so sick... It hurts..."

Seeing Clara in pain, Horace felt his heart being torn apart.

At the same time, he realized that Clara still had wounds on her body. Now soaking in water, the bandages had all fallen apart.

He also realized that this was a strong drug. Clara's face remained red even if he had been constantly splashing cold water on her. It was even stronger than before. Now Clara's blushed face looked morbid. She looked miserable.

Damn it!

Who did it?

Who used such a potent drug on her?

Horace couldn't stand watching Clara suffer anymore. He immediately picked her out of the bathtub, ripped off her wet clothes, dried her, and put her on the bed.

He turned on the air conditioner, making the room as cold as possible. Yet Clara was still in an insanely high fever.

She suffered more and more. She felt like countless ants biting her bones.

She felt like Horace was the only one who could save her.

She reached out, grabbed his arm, and murmured, begging, "Horace, help me, I can't take it anymore."

Clara had no idea how horse and soft her voice was at the moment. He was under great challenge.

Besides, Clara was all naked under the blanket. With her slightest wet hair and her blushed face, Horace was on the verge of losing control.

Fuck!

Seeing Clara in such torture. Horace made up his mind. He looked down at Clara, his eyes dark.

"Clara." He murmured, slowly pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. "You asked for it. Don't blame me."