The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet



The warmth tickled Hertha's neck, making her instinctively shrink back. The breeze that brushed against her skin left a tingling sensation, like an electric current zipping straight through her heart.

Without thinking, she stepped forward, only to realize that while her legs had moved, her upper body hadn't budged. She found herself wrapped in a firm embrace, leaning against a solid chest.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

The arms around her shoulders were strong and reassuring.

Hertha turned her head sharply, locking eyes with Alaric's amused and captivating gaze. She had been furious, but the sight of his devilishly handsome face and that irresistible charm sent a shiver down her spine.

Damn it, why did Alaric have to be so infuriatingly attractive? Anger had fueled her moments ago, but now, it had vanished, almost ensnared by his allure.

And then there were his words, so laden with innuendo they were begging for a retort.

What did he mean by "how she would thank him tonight"?

The implication was unsettling.

But that wasn't the point. Why should she thank him in the first place?

Hertha fought back the flutter in her heart, gritted her teeth, and retracted her foot, only to stomp down hard on his: "Thank you for nothing!"

"Ouch!" Alaric winced, pain shooting up even to his heart. Lifting his foot, he tried to assess the damage to his big toe, but his dress shoe concealed any injury.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Hertha turned and quickly walked away.

Spencer and Emmeline's wedding was over. Staying further would only cause discomfort; leaving was the best choice for everyone's sake. Alaric, ignoring his pain, hurried after her.

Meanwhile, Spencer and Emmeline

fheir quests, blissfully u from asking in the congratulations

of Hertha and Alaric's departure.

Hertha stepped out of the hotel, looking for a taxi.

She had opted for a cab to the

wedding, knowing parking w

set

be

a nightmare with the guest list Spotting an approaching taxi she waved it down.

As the taxi pulled up and she reached for the door, someone grabbed her wrist, pulling her back as the door slammed shut. Turning, she glared at Alaric.

The taxi driver, annoyed, asked, "Are you getting in or what?"

Alaric apologized with a gesture, "Sorry, we won't be needing the cab. We've got our own ride. Just a little spat here."

The driver, unfazed, drove off.

"Hey, I didn't say I wasn't taking the cab!" Hertha protested, but the taxi was already gone, and Alaric was still holding onto her, making escape impossible.

Fuming, Hertha yanked her hand away, "Alaric, are you out of your mind?"

Alaric glanced at the ring on her finger, stating matter-of-factly, "Chasing my fiancée, how's that crazy?"

The word 'fiancée' made Hertha bristle like a threatened cat, immediately retorting, "Who's your fiancée? What are you talking about?"

"With everyone watching, you accepted my proposal. No backing out now," Alaric confidently declared.