Chapter 23: Little Sister, You’re Trembling So Hard

"Julian, it looks like Clara is a bit tipsy. I’ll help her upstairs to rest."

Julian frowned, about to refuse, but just then a business partner called out to him from across the room. He had no choice but to hand Clara over to Mia.

"Take her straight back to her room."

Mia nodded with a smile, but the moment Julian turned away, the jealous hatred in her eyes was unmistakable.

He’s still guarding against me!

Mia let out a cold snort and helped Clara up the stairs.

Once inside the room, Mia unceremoniously tossed Clara onto the bed.

"Exhausting!"

Clara’s long lashes fluttered slightly in the darkness. She felt Mia’s fingernails graze her cheek like the flicking tongue of a venomous serpent.

A slight sting followed, but it left no mark, her skin shimmering with a pearl-like luster under the moonlight.

"What a beautiful face..." Mia’s breath, smelling of rose wine, fanned against her ear. "A pity it’s about to be dragged through the mud."

With that, Mia straightened up and left the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Clara sat up.

She wiped her cheek with her fingertips, a layer of frost covering her features.

No one had managed to successfully harm her yet!

Clara felt her way to the crystal vase on the vanity, the cold glass sending a surge of lethal intent through her palm.

As the sound of footsteps approached in the corridor, she had already pressed herself against the door.

In the darkness, all her senses were magnified—the click of the metal handle turning, the rustle of leather soles against the carpet, and... a faint, lingering scent of cedar.

The moment the vase swung down with a gust of wind, her wrist was seized by a hand like a steel clamp.

The man’s warm chest pressed against her, trapping her between his body and the door.

A breath smelling of tobacco fanned across the back of her neck, accompanied by a low, raspy chuckle that sent a shiver down her spine. "Attempting to murder your husband-to-be, Little Swan?"

"Alistair?" Clara’s pupils contracted.

The Vance heir, who spent his life navigating the gray zones, stood there with two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing his pale collarbone.

The moonlight silvered his sharp features, making him look like a wolf lurking in the shadows.

His fingertip brushed against the pulse point on the inside of her wrist. "Five minutes ago, three guys with cameras were wandering the hall."

He leaned down, his tie sweeping over her bare shoulder. "By now..." His thin lips brushed her earlobe. "...they should be sleeping quite soundly in the storage room."

Clara’s lower back was pressed against the cold, carved wood of the door while her front was flush against the burning heat of a man's body.

She caught the mix of cold rain and tequila clinging to him. Her knee moved inconspicuously toward his crotch. "Mr. Vance is certainly quite helpful."

"After all..."

Alistair suddenly seized the crook of her knee and yanked upward!

Clara was suspended against the door, her velvet skirt sliding down to gather at her waist.

His thumb ground heavily against the inside of her knee. "My Little Swan is about to take the stage. How could I let trash ruin the performance?"

His burning palm roamed along the line of her thigh. Clara grabbed the watch on his wrist. "Mr. Vance, this is a Jian family matter. I can handle it myself."

Hearing the displeasure in her voice, Alistair was somewhat surprised.

Someone actually refused his assistance?

Alistair studied her profile in the dim light for a long moment before letting out a soft laugh.

It was precisely because of this that he found himself becoming more interested in her.

The sharp click of a metal buckle echoed in the dark.

Alistair unwound his tie with one hand, the silk fabric snaking around her neck like a serpent. "I was only helping. Why the long face?"

He yanked the tie tight, forcing her to tilt her head back until their noses touched.

"But since I’ve helped, I should get some interest in return."

Clara suddenly let out a soft laugh, her finger hooking into the metal buckle of his belt. "The cameras are still rolling."

Feeling the man’s muscles stiffen instantly, her red lips grazed his Adam's apple. "How about we... another day?"

The end of her sentence was swallowed by the sudden glare of a phone screen.

Alistair arched an eyebrow as he read the message—Mia was leading the reporters toward the room.

He suddenly wrapped his arm around Clara’s waist, spinning her around and pinning her onto the large bed, the silk bedding churning like waves. "If we're going to put on a show, we have to go all the way, Little Swan."

Clara’s back sank into the soft mattress as the man’s burning body covered her.

He ripped open his shirt with one hand, revealing his powerful chest, while his other hand seized her chin. "Make some noise."

"What?"

Before Clara could finish, the door was kicked open with a bang.

The moment the flashbulbs went off, Alistair leaned down and bit the side of her neck, a sexy, low groan escaping his throat.

Amidst the sound of shutters clicking, she clearly heard his whispered laughter in her ear: "You’re trembling so hard..."

When the reporters realized who the intertwined figures on the bed were, gasps of shock erupted from the crowd.

Alistair yanked the sheet over Clara, wrapping her tightly. His lethal gaze swept over the frozen Mia. "Is this the Jian family’s way of treating guests? Disturbing someone's private affairs?"

When Julian rushed in, he saw a woman wrapped like a cocoon in the blankets and Alistair slowly buttoning his shirt.

"Julian, you really need to keep a better eye on this sister of yours."

Mia looked at Alistair in disbelief, then reached out to tear the blanket off Clara.

"Impossible! This can't be!"

But before her hand could touch the corner of the fabric, Alistair shoved her away.

"Maniac."

Mia fell to the floor, hearing the whispers of the people behind her.

"The fake is a fake after all. Daring to pull the blanket off someone like that... zero upbringing."

"Who dares offend Alistair Vance's woman? Even if she’s just a one-day fling, she’s still his."

Julian stepped forward with a frown, his suspicious gaze flickering over the lump on the bed.

"Mia, apologize. Now."

Mia stood up, her body shaking as she whispered, "I’m sorry, Brother Alistair. I just didn't expect anyone in the Jian family could actually catch your eye."

Wrapped in the blanket, a cold light flashed in Clara’s eyes as she heard Mia’s words.

"Mia!"

Julian cut her off in a low voice, then turned to address the crowd. "Everyone, this was just a misunderstanding. Please, keep this to yourselves. Let's return to the banquet hall."

The crowd knew this wasn't something to be leaked; they couldn't afford to offend the Jian family, let alone the Vance family.

In an instant, the room was left with Alistair sitting on the edge of the bed and a conflicted Julian.

"Get yourself together and come out," Julian said before closing the door.

Alistair turned to the unmoving lump in the blankets. "Not planning on coming out?"

Clara finally moved, poking her flushed little head out of the covers.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Alistair arched an eyebrow, unsatisfied. "My reputation is ruined because of you, and all I get is a 'thank you'?"

Clara seemed to think of something, her face suddenly turning red.

Just as Alistair was about to tell her to forget it, he felt a kiss on his cheek.

Before he could react, Clara had already scrambled off the bed and rushed to the door.

"Thank you, Brother Alistair!"