Chapter 210
No.1
The silence in the penthouse was absolute and suffocating.
Elisa's words hung in the air, a final, chilling declaration of death for whatever twisted connection still existed between them. August's jaw tightened, but he didn't say a word. He turned his back on her and walked to the leather sofa, sitting down in the shadows.
Elisa ignored the burning pain in her spine and the dizzying heat of her fever. She threw off the heavy duvet. Her bare feet hit the plush carpet.
She walked unsteadily toward the armchair where her wet clothes had been discarded. She began digging frantically through the pockets of her damp cashmere coat.
"What are you looking for?" August asked. His voice was low, laced with a dangerous, simmering irritation.
"My phone," Elisa rasped, not turning around. "I have a four o'clock virtual meeting with the Swiss VC group. It is the last chance to save Aethel."
August let out a short, cruel laugh.
He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.He pulled out a rectangular object and tossed it onto the glass coffee table. It landed with a heavy,wet thud.
No.2
Elisa turned. It was her phone. The screen was shattered into a spiderweb of cracks, and water was actively dripping from the charging port.
"If you mean that piece of scrap metal," August said, his eyes cold and mocking, "it sat at the bottom of the pool for ten minutes. It's dead."
Elisa stared at the ruined phone. The blood drained from her face. Without that device, she couldn't access the encrypted video conferencing app. She couldn't call Alastair. She couldn't contact Jewel to check on the Netflix footage.
She took a sharp breath, fighting down the panic.
She turned and lunged toward the nightstand,reaching for the hotel's landline phone. She could call the front desk and have them connect her to
Alastair's room.
Before her fingers could touch the plastic receiver,a massive hand slammed down over hers, pinning it to the phone.
August had moved with terrifying speed. He stood right behind her, his chest brushing her back.
No.3
"Don't waste your energy," August said, his voice a low, vibrating hum right next to her ear. "When I brought you in, I had the hotel manager activate a Tier-One security protocol for this entire floor. All external communication lines have been severed and rerouted through my personal encrypted satellite network. It's a standard precaution against corporate espionage. It also has the convenient side effect of keeping you quiet."
It was a blatant, psychotic abuse of power,wrapped in the language of business.
Elisa spun around, her back hitting the nightstand.
She glared up at him, her chest heaving.
"Are you insane?" Elisa demanded, her voice rising."This is Aethel's survival! Give me your phone right now!"
August's eyes darkened into a terrifying, pitch-black abyss.
"Give it to you?" August sneered, leaning in closer,his physical presence overwhelming her. "So you can call Alastair? Or maybe call Preston and beg him to let you into his bed for a check?"
He reached up and grabbed her jaw, his long fingers pressing painfully into her skin. He forced her to look directly into his eyes.
No.4
"I told you," August whispered, his voice dripping with toxic possession. "Without me, you are nothing.You are staying right here."
Elisa violently slapped his hand away. She stumbled backward, her eyes wide with absolute, unfiltered disgust.
"You are a sick, uncontrollable lunatic," Elisa breathed.
Suddenly, a sharp buzzing sound broke the tension.
August's encrypted black smartphone, sitting on the coffee table, was vibrating. The screen lit up brightly.
Elisa saw the caller ID: Preston Vance.
Preston still held the three-hundred-million-dollar term sheet. He was a monster, but right now, he was her only lifeline. Elisa lunged forward,desperately trying to grab the phone off the table.
August was faster. He snatched the phone and held it high above his head, easily out of her reach. A slow, deeply sadistic smile spread across his face.
No.5
He pressed the green accept button and put the phone on speaker.
"Faye?" Preston's arrogant, impatient voice filled the room. "You are ten minutes late for our virtual meeting. My patience is running out. Are you taking the deal or not?"
Elisa opened her mouth to scream that she was there.
August's hand clamped brutally over her mouth.He grabbed her by the shoulders-his hands instinctively avoiding her injured lower spine-and forced her backward onto the soft cushions of the leather sofa. He leaned over her, using his forearms to pin her thrashing wrists against the leather,deliberately keeping his heavy body weight off her fragile back.
Elisa desperately tried to twist her wrist, aiming to strike the nerve cluster in his forearm just like she had done before, but her body was entirely depleted. The near-drowning and the raging fever had drained all her strength, and his strategic,overpowering grip pinned her so tightly she couldn't even generate the leverage needed for the strike. All she could do was bite his hand, tearing weakly at his wrist wih her nails, but he didn't even flinch.
August leaned his head toward the phone on the table.
"Vance," August said. His voice was completely transformed. It was low, husky, and dripping with the unmistakable, heavy exhaustion of post-coital intimacy. "Your timing is terrible."
On the other end of the line, Preston went dead silent.
No.6
"August?" Preston finally roared, his voice cracking with shock and fury. "Why the hell is Faye's call routing to your phone? Where is she?"
August looked down at Elisa pinned beneath him.Her eyes were burning with a hatred so pure it was almost blinding.
"She is exhausted," August murmured into the phone, his voice a dark, velvet purr. "She just fell asleep in my bed. As for your meeting... she's no longer interested."
"You son of a bitch!" Preston screamed through the speaker, his ego completely shattered. "You tell that whore that Aethel will never see a single dime of my money!"
August reached out and tapped the red button. The call ended. He powered the phone down
completely.
He slowly lifted his hand off Elisa's mouth and pushed himself up off her body.
He expected her to scream. He expected her to cry,to hit him, to break down in despair now that her company was officially dead.
No.7
Elisa lay on the sofa. She didn't move. Her chest rose and fell ina slow, rhythmic pattern.
She looked up at the ceiling, and then she slowly turned her head to look at August.
Her eyes were no longer angry. They were completely, terrifyingly empty. It was the look of a woman who had just watched the last bridge burn,leaving her with absolutely nothing left to lose.①
"You just sent yourself to hell," Elisa whispered.①