After dinner, Amelia nibbled on a small slice of the apple pie Gloria had baked, then headed off to shower.

As casually as the night before, she stood at the edge of the bed, unbothered by Landon’s presence, and began to undress.

The soft rustle of fabric slipping off her skin was maddening, an almost hypnotic torment to Landon. Unable to take it, he cleared his throat mentally and muttered in their minds, “You should really undress in the bathroom.”

“You can’t see me anyway, so what’s the big deal?” Amelia laughed lightly, her tone teasing and nonchalant.

Landon was at a loss for words, grumbling inwardly, ‘Fine. Let her do as she pleases. But if I ever do end up seeing everything, she’d better not blame me for it.’

Desperately, he tried to tune out the sounds, focusing all his energy on blocking out her presence.

Tonight, Amelia was going to sleep on the sofa, leaving Landon confident that, finally, he might get a good night’s rest.

But just as he was sinking into blissful sleep, faint noises filtered through the haze of his dreams—soft, breathy whimpers that sent a jolt of awareness through him.

“Who?" he thought, suddenly wide awake.

“Hot… I feel so… weird.” Amelia’s voice, faint and broken, drifted to him in the dark.

What the… Landon’s chest tightened, and rage erupted within him. ‘Damn it, is she sleeping with someone else? Already cheating two days into our marriage? Is she seriously sneaking around with some lover under my roof? And what are the maids and guards even doing, letting some guy into her room for that?'

Fury coursing through him, Landon struggled violently, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could get up and kill them. But no matter how hard he tried, his body wouldn’t respond.

Then he heard it—a dull thud, followed by Amelia’s pained cry. “Ow, that hurt.”

‘Serves her right,’ he thought bitterly. ‘Karma.’

“This feels awful… Am I running a fever? I need water,” Amelia groaned, her voice thick with discomfort. The fall jolted her, bringing her a little more clarity.

Though still a bit dazed, she managed to push herself upright, her hand brushing against her forehead. The heat radiating from her skin only confirmed her suspicions. What she didn’t realize was that it wasn’t just her head—her entire body felt like it was ablaze.

Unsteady on her feet, she shuffled toward the water jug, her movements shaky. The sound of her gulping down water echoed through the quiet room, loud and unsettling in the stillness.

Landon frowned inwardly, confusion mingling with his earlier anger, “Was I wrong? It… it sounds like she’s alone.”

“Still so hot. What’s wrong with me?” Amelia’s murmur was laced with frustration. Her steps faltered, her movements becoming clumsy as her consciousness seemed to waver.

The unbearable heat in her body increased no matter how much water she drank, and she felt like there was a fire burning within her. It wasn’t just discomfort—it was an unfamiliar, gnawing sensation pooling low in her abdomen, something she couldn’t quite name or understand.

It was an experience she had never gone through before, and it was so intense, so foreign, that she didn’t know how to handle it.

Suddenly, her foot caught on the other, and she stumbled forward. “Ah!”

The startled cry sent a jolt through Landon, his instincts flaring. “What’s happening to her now?”

Before he could dwell on his concern, something soft, warm, and undeniably feminine collided with him, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

The faint, intoxicating scent of her skin enveloped him, and immediately, he knew something was wrong. “‘She’s not herself tonight,” he mused, the thought sharp and urgent.

Summoning his will, he called out silently, “Amelia? Amelia!”

“Landon, I feel awful… I think I have a fever,” Amelia murmured weakly, her hands fumbling blindly for something to steady herself.

When her hand landed on Landon’s face, she froze. Then, to his utter disbelief, she began stroking it gently. “Your face… feels so nice and soft,” she slurred, her voice laced with a peculiar satisfaction.

Amelia’s mind was a haze, clouded by an unfamiliar heat that seemed to consume her from the inside out. Yet, under her palm, the cool firmness of his cheek felt like heaven itself, momentarily dulling her discomfort.

“Soft… so nice…” she murmured, her touch growing bolder as she caressed his face with rapt attention.

Landon lay there, utterly dumbfounded. Never in his life had he allowed a woman to touch his face like this—let alone with such abandon.

But Amelia didn’t stop there. The relief she felt from touching his face wasn’t enough to quell the inferno raging within her. Her wandering hands began to drift downward.

Soft, delicate fingers grazed his throat before finding his collarbone, where they paused to explore. “Oh, that’s your collarbones,” she said in astonishment, as though it were the most fascinating discovery in the world.

Landon inhaled sharply, his entire body tensing. That was when it hit him—this wasn’t a fever. She’d been drugged.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. It’s an aphrodisiac… There’s only one person who could pull this off at home.’ His jaw tightened. “Mom. She did this, didn’t she? All because she wants a grandchild.”

Despair bubbled in his chest as he mentally called out to Amelia, ‘Amelia, stop it. Take your hands off me and listen—’

His thought was cut short by a sharp intake of breath. Her hand had ventured lower, brushing against his chest. Landon felt every nerve in his body go taut like a drawn bowstring, afraid that she would do something even more irrational.

His mind screamed in alarm, ‘Amelia, snap out of it. You’re sick. Call Wesley, do you hear me?’

But Amelia, caught in the haze of the drug, didn’t respond. Instead, she let out a little giggle, her lips curling into a playful pout as her hands began to roam over his body. “What did you say? I can’t hear you.”

She sounded like she was having the best fun. “Your muscles are so firm, your skin so smooth. Hmm? Look, your V-line is showing,” she teased, her fingers trailing down his chest.

Landon’s head pounded, his patience wearing thin. He groaned inwardly, ‘Of course my V-line’s showing. How could it not when you’re practically toying with me like this?’ Every touch was driving him to the brink. He wanted to beg her to stop, but his mind raced with conflicting emotions.

Amelia chuckled, her fingers trailing toward the edge of his waistband. “I’ve never touched a real V-line before… I have to feel it,” she declared, her voice filled with a mix of wonder and mischief.

‘Amelia, you’re playing with fire. Stop it now,’ Landon hissed internally, his voice low and strained in their heads.

But she didn’t stop. If anything, her touch grew bolder, and the heat in her gaze only intensified. The more she touched him, the more her own discomfort seemed to ease.

When her fingers slipped dangerously close to the waistband of his pants, Landon’s composure shattered. “Damn it. Is she seriously trying to take off my pants? What does she think she’s doing? Forcing herself on me!”

A storm of emotions surged through him—shame, fury, disbelief—all culminating in a single, searing thought. ‘If you don’t stop, I swear I’ll kill you,’ he barked inwardly through clenched teeth, his tone like a whip.

His outburst startled her into pulling her hand back, her wide eyes blinking up at him in confusion and a hint of hurt. “Fine. I’ll stop,” she said, her voice quivering with indignation. But then her lips wobbled, and a tinge of sadness crept into her expression. “I wasn’t even doing anything wrong…”

Does she seriously think she’s the victim here? Landon wanted to roll his eyes but physically couldn’t. If he could, though, he’d probably roll them so hard they’d get stuck.

“But I don’t feel any better without touching you,” Amelia whispered, her voice trembling with frustration.

Landon groaned internally, ‘Unbelievable.’ Summoning every ounce of mental strength, he tried to reason with her, ‘Amelia, listen to me. Call Wesley. Tell him you need the antidote. But wait—are you still wearing clothes?”

The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. He thought that if she was this far gone, pawing at him without restraint, she might not even be dressed properly under the influence of the drug. He couldn’t let Wesley see her like that.

‘Amelia,’ he said firmly in Amelia’s head, ‘tell Wesley you’ve been drugged and ask him to hand the antidote to a maid. Don’t let him see you like this. Do you hear me?’

But Amelia’s mind was a mess, thick with the fog of the drug’s effects. His words barely registered. All she could focus on was his bare torso—the sculpted lines, the way his muscles tensed under her gaze.

She stared at him with open longing, her hands hovering hesitantly. She wanted to touch him again, craved the relief his cool skin seemed to offer. But she also feared his earlier warning.

Her fingers twitched. She didn’t dare, yet she couldn’t resist. Not touching him felt unbearable, like denying herself the only comfort in her feverish state.

‘Amelia, did you hear me?’ Landon’s voice rang sharp in their minds, tinged with unease.

“Okay, I heard you,” Amelia replied distractedly, her tone nonchalant, but her eyes betrayed her. They were glued to his bare torso, shamelessly tracing every line and contour like a painter studying a masterpiece.

“Then make the call,” he urged silently, his patience hanging by a thread.

Amelia gave another noncommittal “Okay,” but made no move to obey.

He could practically feel the heat of her gaze burning into his skin, making his muscles tense involuntarily. Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath and tried a different tactic. ‘If you finish the call, I’ll let you… touch me,’ he coaxed, his tone laced with reluctant surrender.

“Really? Deal.” Her face lit up like a child promised a candy store and she immediately grabbed her phone, dialing Wesley without hesitation.

To touch him as soon as possible, her words tumbled out in a rush, like she was racing against an imaginary clock. “I've been drugged with… um, an aphrodisiac. Leave the antidote with the maid.”

Before Wesley could even process the bombshell, she hung up instantly and turned back to her target with predatory eagerness, touching him all she wanted.

Landon groaned internally as her hands resumed their exploratory mission, gliding over his chest and shoulders with infuriating leisure. He felt utterly powerless—not just physically, thanks to the lingering paralysis, but emotionally too. Resistance was futile; she was relentless.

But soon, her touch grew more insistent. The chemicals of the drug in her blood drove her past mere curiosity. She climbed onto the bed, pressing herself against him, her warm body seeking solace in his cool skin.

Everything seemed way too thrilling to him right now. A low, unbidden sound escaped his throat—a mixture of frustration and undeniable, treacherous desire.

Just as he feared, she was completely bare, her soft skin pressing flush against his, every nerve in his body igniting like a live wire. His arms, pinned between them, were firmly nestled between her breasts.

Landon trembled, a deep shudder running through him as his self-control strained to the breaking point, his own desires warring with his morals.

He wanted her more than anything in the world right now, but he couldn’t even lift a finger. He had no choice but to let her have her way with him.

“Your skin’s so cool…” Amelia murmured, her voice tinged with wonder. Her perfectly sculpted legs slid across his body, searching for another patch of refreshing coolness.

The friction was unbearable, yet maddeningly innocent—like a spark that refused to catch fire but still singed everything in its path. She had never been with a guy before and she had no clue what she was doing, no understanding of the chaos she was sowing.

Her ignorance was a double-edged sword. It was a blessing that she didn’t know how much more she could take this, but it was also torture, leaving him teetering on the edge of insanity.

“Wesley, hurry up. Please, for the love of everything, save me before I lose my mind.” Landon’s silent prayer was as fervent as it was desperate.