Chapter 50 Investigate Thoroughly
The shrill wail of the fire alarm ripped through the hotel, shattering the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses. In the lobby, guests screamed and surged toward the exits. Upstairs, doors flew open as startled occupants leaned into the hallway, calling out to one another in confusion.
Francis had just raked in a massive win at the high-stakes table, the pile of chips still sitting untouched before him. Across the table, Hugo Graves threw down his cards with theatrical urgency, scattering the chips as he pushed back his chair.
"Fire!" Hugo barked, his voice carrying both alarm and a flicker of sly amusement. "Forget the game—let's get out of here!"
The players spilled into the corridor, nearly colliding with a security guard hustling toward the commotion. Francis stopped him.
"What's going on?"
"Alarm went off in a guest room at the far end of the first floor," the guard said quickly. "No need to panic—head this way and you'll be clear."
Francis nodded and waved him on. Then he clapped Hugo on the shoulder. "By the way, you owe me 1.8 million from that last hand. Don't forget to transfer it."
Hugo stared at him. "Seriously? We're evacuating and you're chasing a debt?"
Francis's pace was steady, deliberate. "You can dodge a loan. Gambling debts are different."
They reached the lobby in the tide of guests. Francis spotted Aria across the room.
"Where's Jennifer? Did she get out?"
Aria froze. "God, I forgot. She wasn't feeling well earlier. I had a server take her to a guest room to rest."
A sharp jolt of unease shot through Francis. The room the guard had mentioned it was near the guest suites. Without hesitation, he was already running.
At the far end of the hall, a knot of people crowded a doorway. Some clutched fire extinguishers; others were shouting questions. A man who looked like a manager raised his voice.
"We need to investigate the cause of the alarm." He signaled for the door to be opened.
The moment the group pushed inside, a startled scream cut through the noise. Jennifer yanked the blanket up to her chin, eyes wide. The alarm's piercing shriek had drowned out the voices outside—she hadn't understood what was happening until strangers flooded the room.
Francis heard her and broke into a run.
She was sitting on the bed, cheeks flushed and swollen, clothes torn, hair plastered to her face by the spray from the ceiling sprinklers. Her eyes darted over the crowd, panicked and guarded. The sight made his stomach twist.
When she saw him, her lips parted as if to call out—but shame flickered in her gaze. Instead, she covered her face and began to cry.
Francis's voice was sharp with command. "Everyone out. Don't look."
He crossed the room in two strides, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around her head and shoulders. His hand was gentle on her back. "It's over. You're safe now."
Jennifer flinched at his touch, then stilled as the familiar scent reached her. She leaned into him, trembling.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?"
She peeked out from under the jacket, eyes searching his face for disgust. There was none—only concern and an ache that matched her own. Relief loosened her throat. "No. Can you take me home?" Her arms slid around his neck, her head pressing into the curve of it.
Francis lifted her easily, adjusting the jacket to shield her as much as possible. His gaze softened on her, but when he looked at the others, it was cold steel. "No gossip. Not a word."
The manager bowed quickly. "Of course, Mr. Kane."
Word spread outside that the alarm had been a false trigger—no fire, no danger. Aria arrived with the event coordinator, her eyes widening at the sight of Jennifer in Francis's arms, clothing torn, head buried against him.
"Who did this?" she asked, voice low and tight.
"Didn't see their face," Francis said darkly. "But you'd better have answers. I'll find out myself if I have to."
Aria's mouth pressed into a hard line. "I'll get to the bottom of it. Whoever ruined my engagement party will regret it."
She arranged for Francis to take Jennifer out through the back, away from the curious eyes in the lobby.
In the parking garage, Jennifer's breathing shifted. At first Francis thought it was just the aftermath of shock—until she began to squirm in his arms. Heat radiated from her skin, her cheeks flushed deep crimson. Her lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them. A soft, restless sound slipped from her throat.
"Jennifer?" His grip tightened. "What's wrong?"
Her gaze was hazy, unfocused. "Water, I'm so thirsty." She licked her lips again, the motion sending a jolt through him.
Francis's jaw clenched. This wasn't normal. Someone had drugged her—an aphrodisiac. Rage surged hot in his chest. Whoever had done this would pay.
He forced his voice gentle. "Hold on. You'll get water in the car."
By the time he opened the passenger door, she was nearly beyond reason. As he set her down, her arms looped around his neck, lips brushing his cheek in erratic kisses. Her fingers tugged at his tie, slipping under his collar.
"Don't go. Hold me. Kiss me," she breathed, the words trembling with need. Her bare feet curled against his thigh, sliding along the fabric of his trousers.
Francis caught her wrists with one hand, reaching for a water bottle with the other. Even that simple task was a battle. He uncapped it and pressed it to her lips.
She drank greedily, each swallow seeming to cost her effort. He seized the moment to pull the seatbelt across her and lock it in place.
Back behind the wheel, he kept glancing at her. She writhed against the restraint, muttering that she was hot, tugging at her clothes. If not for the belt, she'd have stripped them off entirely.
Her hand found his face, then his chest. "Francis… I feel so bad… please help me…"