Love's Cunning Ruse novel Chapter 377

At the Presidential Suite of the Cardinal Hotel.

Rowan had booked the top-tier spot and had been staying there since returning home. He headed straight to his room upon arrival, while his friend Kleist bunked next door.

Rowan shrugged off his coat and flicked on the lights of the suite. For security reasons, the curtains of the floor-to-ceiling windows were always drawn, day or night, to prevent any peeping toms or worse.

But as the room illuminated, he could see the bed—typically neat and pristine—was oddly lumpy, like a molehill twitching beneath the sheets.

His brow furrowed, he swiftly pulled out his gun and took cover behind the couch, using it as a shield while aiming at the stirring lump on the bed.

Suddenly, a pale, delicate arm emerged from under the covers, followed by a soft moan.

"I'm burning up... so hot..." The disjointed voice wafted from beneath the fabric.

It was a voice Rowan knew all too well.

Wasn't that Julie's voice?

He hesitated for a moment before calling out, "Julie?"

He didn't use the codename Patriot this time; something in her voice sounded off.

Kieran had just called to ask about Julie's whereabouts. Rowan had just assured him that she wasn't with him. How then did she end up in his bed in the blink of an eye?

It certainly wasn't a coincidence.

Julie didn't respond to Rowan, probably didn't even hear him. She felt like she was in an oven, as if coals were smoldering beneath her. Every inch of her skin was unbearably itchy, seeking anything that might provide some relief.

She flung off the covers.

Rowan's grip on his gun slackened.

Beneath the dark gray sheet lay a porcelain back, flawless and enticing. His gaze lingered, reluctantly pulling away.

His frown deepened. After a pause, he holstered his gun and approached the bed, draping the sheet back over her.

"Got lost, did you?" He patted Julie's cheek lightly, only for her to grab his hand and press it against her neck.

Her neck was swan-like in its elegance, and his hand rested there, feeling the softness of her skin.

A woman who had given birth, yet she seemed as untouched as a young girl.

And what was more, he found himself... quite taken with her.

Rowan forcefully withdrew his hand, accidentally exposing more of her, and realized she wasn't wearing a thing under the covers.

His brow creased. Who could be so thoughtful as to deliver a woman to his bed like a present, without even the decency of a single thread? And to top it off, she was another man's wife.

How tempting, a married woman.

He took out his phone to call Kieran, but the seemingly docile woman on the bed suddenly rolled over, rested her head on his leg, and murmured, "Kieran... I'm in agony..."

"Kieran?" Rowan paused his dialing, looking down at Julie resting on his thigh. Her cheeks were flushed, but the redness seemed oddly pronounced.

Not just her face, but the skin exposed to the air was turning a soft shade of pink, glistening with a feverish sheen.

As his finger brushed her shoulder, she clutched his hand as if it were a lifeline, then... brought her lips to it.

Was she mistaking his hand for something delectable?

A thought flickered through Rowan's mind before he realized... the woman had ingested something she shouldn't have. Her skin was a light pink, and her entire body was scorching. Clearly, the dose was significant.

Who harbored such intentions, using this woman to seduce him?

Rowan tried to pull his hand away, but she was surprisingly strong. Her other hand swung up, knocking his phone to the carpeted floor.

Luckily, the thick carpet cushioned the fall, preventing the screen from shattering.

"Little vixen, stop it," he muttered. She was obviously mistaking him for Kieran.

The drug was taking a toll; she was delirious. Whoever planned to frame her had made meticulous arrangements. As the sheet slipped, Rowan caught her playful hand and held it down.

But then he noticed something—a faint puncture mark on her wrist. His eyes darkened. It wasn't just drugs; it was an injection. Someone had been ruthlessly thorough.

Julie felt as if she were being baked dry, her mind a whirlwind of jumbled images, all entangled with Kieran.