With a resigned smile, Blayze gingerly placed the glass down, withdrew his phone and contacted his secretary, tasking her with the acquisition of a women’s down jacket.

After a brisk shower, Blayze donned fresh attire and thoughtfully penned a note for Sabrina before stepping out.

It wasn’t until the afternoon that Sabrina stirred from her slumber.

She groggily opened her eyes and found herself ensconced within the confines of the hotel room, Despite the throbbing ache in her head, she immediately sat up and conducted a hasty inventory of her attire.

To her immense relief, her clothing remained intact, save for the down jacket she had been draped in.

Thankfully. With a sigh of relief, she reclined once more and shut her eyes.

Her recollections resurfaced. The bar, the unsettling encounter with those three men, and then… Tyrone seemed to show up later.

A voice, distinctly not Tyrone’s, suddenly sounded from her

to her astonishment, she beheld the man before her, “Blayze?

is my hotel room,” Blayze replied through tightly clenched

the plush sofa, a sleek laptop stationed before him, his mind

her gaze

distinct from the aura of a freshly occupied

her voice, she

found himself momentarily at a loss for words,

“Did you retrieve me from

but Blayze, who had come to her aid on that occasion. She had drunk

arched an eyebrow,

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