Clara slammed the car door shut with a triumphant smirk. "Don't you worry about how I pulled it off. You just snap a few pictures and shoot a video for me when the time comes. As for this woman, she's all yours. We had a deal, remember?"
The thug who had been boasting online about wanting to date Ivy, using crude language to appease his own desires, was suddenly at a loss for words in the presence of the celebrity.
"Man, I was just running my mouth online. Who would have thought you'd actually deliver a star like Ivy on a silver platter? How the heck did you manage that? Who are you?"
A flicker of awkwardness crossed Clara's face. Even now, she was just a nobody, a D-list actress at best.
Even this lowlife knew Ivy, not her.
Hmph! Last time, she failed to ruin Ivy, but this time, she was determined to succeed.
"Don't worry about who I am. Just carry her inside, and don't you dare touch her until I say so!"
The guy chortled with glee. Today was his lucky day, and he'd do anything Clara asked.
As he hoisted Ivy over his shoulder, he couldn't resist stroking her face.
These big-time celebs really were different – their skin was so smooth and soft! His own rough hands felt like sandpaper by comparison. He was almost afraid he'd scratch her perfect complexion.
"Never thought I'd see the day," he mused to himself. This was like winning the lottery.
From now on, when he bragged to his buddies, he'd be the one with the real swagger. He was the guy who had touched a real-life star. How could they even compete?
Once Ivy was inside, Clara roughly grabbed a coil of twine and tied up her hands and feet with no finesse whatsoever.
Even the thug winced at her brutality, telling her to take it easy.
Clara sneered. "You think she's your girlfriend or something?"
"Hey, you said you'd hand her over to me later. What's wrong with being a little tender now?"
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