A jolt of alarm shot through Clara Grant. She raised her hand and—SLAP!—struck President Lee across the face. While he and his lackeys were still stunned, she lifted her foot and stomped on his with all her might.
President Lee was still reeling from the slap when a sharp pain shot up from his foot. He imdiately cried out in agony.
Unsure whether to clutch his face or his foot, President Lee flew into a rage born of humiliation. He pointed at Clara Grant and roared at his n, "What are you waiting for? Grab her! You little bitch, I tried to be nice and you spit in my face! You want to play hardball, is that it? You don’t want to drink with properly? Fine! Soone get over here and pour it down her throat!"
The mont the words left his mouth, two n seized Clara Grant’s arms, pinning them firmly. Then, the man holding the bottle was in front of her. Before she could even think to resist, he grabbed her cheeks, pinching them hard to force her mouth open. The bottle was aid, ready to be emptied into her.
"Stop, stop, stop..." Muffled whimpers escaped Clara Grant’s lips. "President Lee, please, just listen to ..."
President Lee gave his man a look. The man released her face. Ignoring the sting in her cheeks, Clara Grant feigned a pained yelp. "President Lee, I am so terribly sorry. My hands and feet just got away from for a second, I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry for startling you. You’re a magnanimous man; surely you wouldn’t stoop to arguing with a little lady like , right? What did you say before? You want to drink? Okay, I’ll drink, how about that, President Lee?"
Clara Grant knew she was being shafully obsequious, but discretion was the better part of valor. They were at the entrance of The Tuberose, and plenty of people were coming and going, yet not a single one looked like they would step in to help her.
She wasn’t stupid enough to insist on going head-to-head with him. Besides, in a situation like this, she would be the one to lose out in the end if she t force with force.
’It’s just a glass of wine, right? That fat bastard drank a glass himself just now, so it should be fine.’
’Drinking it willingly is much better than being disgracefully forced to.’
President Lee motioned for his n to pour Clara Grant another glass and hand it to her.
Clara Grant took it, but looked at him uneasily, seeking confirmation one more ti. "President Lee, as long as I drink this, you’ll let go, right?"
"Of course."
’The wine was spiked with sothing special. Once the drug kicked in, she wouldn’t be able to leave even if she wanted to. Besides, would she even want to leave then? It’d be a miracle if she didn’t throw herself at him!’
"Fine, I’ll drink!" Clara Grant declared, then downed the glass in one heroic gulp.
"Good! That’s more like it, sweetheart!" President Lee slurred, drunkenly clapping for her.
"I can go now." Clara Grant shoved the empty glass into his hand and turned to leave.
"Hey, hold on. Since you’re being so cooperative, sweetheart, why not have another?" President Lee said, grabbing her arm.
’I knew he wouldn’t let go so easily!’
Clara Grant’s delicate brows knitted together. She looked down at the hand gripping her arm, her limpid eyes filled with disgust. She instinctively tried to pull away, but the mont she moved, her frown deepened.
’I can’t seem to muster any strength!’
’And my body is getting hot!’
’It’s not like I’ve never had a drink before; one glass shouldn’t get drunk. But if there was sothing fishy about the wine, that fat bastard drank it too...’
President Lee, of course, noticed the change in her. A triumphant smirk spread across his face as he imdiately closed in, his hands reaching for her slender waist.
"AHH!"
But before his hand could touch Clara Grant’s waist, it was he who let out a pained scream.
His hand had been suddenly seized by soone, and an excruciating pain shot through it, as if it were about to be snapped in two by iron pliers.
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