Chapter 3

Summer's POV

My whole body felt like it was on fire. Through the haze of the drug, I was vaguely aware of being carried into a suite. I whimpered, the heat under my skin becoming unbearable.

"Please... make it stop," I begged, my hands fumbling at Brandon’s jacket as if looking for an anchor.

He didn't speak, but I could feel the tension in his frame. He carried me into a bathroom, and moments later, a shock of cold water slammed into my skin. I gasped, my body jerking from the temperature change.

"Stay still!" his deep voice commanded. His hands were unyielding, pinning me down in the tub to ensure the cold water could counteract the feverish heat of the drug.

"James, I need ice. Now," he barked into an earpiece.

Minutes felt like hours as I thrashed against the cold, my mind a blur of fire and frost. Brandon stayed with me, his grip firm yet somehow protective, keeping me grounded as the drug’s effects slowly began to recede.

Eventually, the burning began to fade, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. The last thing I heard was his low, reassuring voice: "Sleep now. You're safe."

I woke up the next morning in a luxurious bed, the sunlight streaming through the windows. I was covered in soft, expensive sheets. When Brandon entered the room, he looked at me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

"Nothing happened last night," he said calmly, noticing my panic. "Your clothes were ruined from the ice bath—a necessity to save you. The maid changed you after you fell asleep."

Relief washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by a new kind of tension as he sat at the edge of the bed. "You have a beautiful spirit, Miss Taylor," he remarked, his eyes searching mine. "But you're in a dangerous position. Everyone is talking about the 'jilted fiancée' of Alexander Stark."