Chapter 185

Vincent's fingers dug into his palms.

He stared at the blurred silhouette moving behind the frosted glass of the bathroom, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. Nicole Capra and Henry Bartley were just outside, yet all he could think about were Susan Thompson's tear-filled eyes.

"Susan." His voice was hoarse, barely recognizable. "Come with me."

Susan pressed her back against the cold tiles, the scent of antiseptic mixing with his ambergris cologne. She clenched the fabric of her clothes, her nails nearly tearing through.

"Mr. King, are you resorting to kidnapping now?" Her laugh was bitter, the corners of her eyes red like a cornered animal. "Too bad I don't bend easily."

Vincent suddenly gripped her waist.

"What are you doing?" Susan gasped, then bit her lip hard. The muffled sounds from outside continued, making her tremble.

"Shh." His scorching lips brushed her earlobe. "Unless you want them to find us, behave."

His hand trailed up her spine, every touch igniting fire. Susan suddenly remembered the boy who had fed her medicine in the dungeon, her eyes stinging.

"One million." Vincent's voice cut through the silence. "For one night."

Susan jerked her head up, meeting his darkened gaze. Her pale reflection stared back—like a sacrifice on an altar.

"How generous." Her shoulders shook with laughter. "But I have standards."

Vincent's expression turned icy.

He yanked her collar open, his pupils contracting at the sight of fading bite marks on her collarbone. "Andrew Lucas can touch you, but I can't?" His voice was laced with frost. "Susan, who are you pretending to be?"

Susan raised her hand.

"Go ahead." He caught her wrist and pinned it against the wall. "Let everyone outside see how Mr. King forced himself on a cripple."

The words stabbed like a knife. Susan looked down at her deformed left foot and laughed until tears spilled. "So this is your taste, Mr. King."

Vincent's breath hitched.

He remembered that stormy night three years ago—Susan dragging her broken leg through the flames, her nails caked with blood as she clutched a photo frame.

"Why..." His thumb traced the scar on her wrist, his voice breaking. "You smile for others but won't even look at me?"

Susan froze.

Neon lights filtered through the steam, casting a glow on the scar running from Vincent's brow to his jaw. She reached out instinctively but pulled back at the last second.

"Mr. King." Slowly, she unwound the bloodied bandage on her left hand. "If you stab me every day and then ask why I don't love you..." The gauze peeled away with a sickening stickiness, making her gasp. "Isn't that just cruel?"

Vincent stared at the raw wound, then suddenly slammed his fist into the wall.

"Susan!" He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, shaking. "I must be out of my damn mind—"

A knock cut him off.

"Who's in there?" Nicole's saccharine voice slithered through the door crack. "Henry, I think we have a little mouse~"