Chapter 7

Keeley's long eyelashes fluttered. She slowly forced her heavy eyelids open.

The soft but bright spotlight above her made her instinctively raise her hand to block the glare.

A sharp prick of pain shot through the back of her hand. That was when she realized she was hooked up to an IV drip.

As her vision cleared, she looked around and realized she was in a ridiculously luxurious hospital room that looked like a five-star hotel suite.

Memories flooded back into her brain. She snapped her head to the side and saw Holland sitting on the sofa next to the bed.

Keeley woke up instantly, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. She struggled to sit up.

Holland immediately uncrossed his legs and stood up. One large hand pressed firmly against her shoulder to keep her down.

With his other hand, he picked up a glass of warm water and brought it to her lips, ordering her to drink.

Keeley stubbornly turned her head away. She reached over with her free hand, trying to rip the IV needle out of her vein so she could leave.

Holland's reflexes were terrifying. He grabbed her thin wrist, his grip so tight she couldn't move an inch.

A violent physical struggle broke out on the bed. Keeley's breathing turned ragged.

With red-rimmed eyes, she furiously demanded to know what he wanted and why he was haunting her life like a ghost.

Hearing this, Holland laughed out of pure anger. A freezing curve appeared on his lips.

He leaned down, his face inches from hers, and brought up how she had run away like a coward four years ago without a single word.

Keeley's heart contracted painfully. She fired back, accusing him of his suffocating, psychotic controlling behavior back then.

They tore at each other's old wounds. The temperature in the room dropped to freezing, the air thick with the smell of gunpowder.

During the heated argument, Keeley swung her trapped arm wildly, trying to push him away.

Thud.

The back of her hand accidentally slammed into the glass of water Holland was holding.

The glass tipped over. More than half of the warm water splashed directly onto Holland's chest.

The water instantly soaked through his expensive custom silk tie and his dark gray tailored shirt.

The screaming match in the room stopped abruptly. Dead silence fell over them.

Keeley stared at the wet mess on his chest, sucking in a sharp breath. Her body froze.

Holland looked down at the wet fabric clinging to his pectoral muscles. His chest rose and fell heavily.

He slowly looked up. A highly dangerous, predatory light flashed in his dark eyes.

Surprisingly, he didn't explode. Instead, he slowly used one hand to pull the ruined tie off his neck.

He tossed the wet tie onto the white bedsheets. His tone was lazy, but it carried an undeniable, crushing weight.

He stated that the tie was a discontinued, handmade Italian piece. As compensation, he demanded Keeley spend the entire day tomorrow acting as his personal assistant.

Keeley gritted her teeth and refused. She said she would pay him back in installments, but she would never sell him her time.

Holland let out a cold sneer. He casually brought up the internship position at Nexus Innovations that she had been killing herself to apply for.

Faced with this naked threat of being blacklisted from the industry, Keeley closed her eyes in pure humiliation. She was forced to agree to the unequal treaty.