Chapter 5 5.Rogue

"Brother, are you this temperamental?" His raised arm was intercepted by Olivia before it could fall. Olivia had dyed hair, heavy makeup, and a short skirt revealing her thighs.

Her looks weren't as impressive as Isabella's, but her alluring thighs easily drew the attention of him.

"Brother, don't lower yourself to her level. Look at me, how about we find a private room to chat?" Olivia said with a playful smile.

Isabella knew that Olivia was trying to help her get out of this situation but still worried. "Hey, can you handle him alone?"

"Sis, it's not my first day here. I've got pepper spray in my purse; I won't suffer," Olivia said as she took out a small canister of pepper spray from her bag and handed it to Isabella.

"Be careful," Isabella replied as she took it.

Having escaped the lewd man, she walked alone in the dimly lit corridor, with sounds of booming music and luxurious moans emanating from the private rooms on both sides.

Isabella couldn't help but frown; with so many rooms, how could she find the right one?

Lost in thought, a sudden, forceful push from behind pinned her to the wall on the side.

She was startled, and her back hit the ice-cold, hard wall; she had forgotten the pain.

The heavyset man pressed her against the wall with his bulk. He used one large hand to tilt her face. "You've got some guts, coming to a place like this alone."

She looked at the man in front of her, her heart still racing. Behind her was a luxurious and dazzling crystal chandelier that cast his blue eyes in a cold light.

"Andrew, why are you here?" she breathed a sigh of relief.

He let her go, and his tall figure leaned casually against the wall. His expression was almost indifferent. He took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, saying, "This isn't the kind of place you should be. I'll take you out."

"I'm not leaving. I came to find someone."

"Who are you looking for?" he asked.

Isabella thought Andrew, a small-time thug, would likely have more information, so she replied, "Connor Martin, do you know him?"

"I've heard his reputation is quite unsavory. What are you looking for him for?" he inquired.

"I need his help," she said.

Andrew chuckled, and his gaze assessed her. He flicked some ash from his fingertips, his tone indifferent. "Connor Martin is fond of women. Women who ask him for help usually have to pay a price. Have you thought it through?"

She glared at him in exasperation, but he feigned ignorance. In response, she pulled a small pinhole camera from her bag. "He's involved in some shady activities here. He probably doesn't want his wife to know. With some evidence, I'm not afraid he won't help me."

Andrew listened to her and maintained his nonchalant expression. He casually flicked his cigarette ash with two fingers and said, "The room upstairs, the third one on the left."

She stood in front of the door with a thin steel wire in her hand, fiddling for a moment before the door opened with a click.

Andrew stood behind her with a keen interest, following her inside.

He casually slipped his hands into his pockets and strolled around the room.

A man's suit hung on a hanger, and the remnants of a half-used pack of condoms and a woman's stockings were scattered on the memory foam mattress.

"Why is no one here?" she asked.

"They probably went downstairs to eat; physical activities in bed are exhausting," he said.

She shot him another angry glare, silently cursing: rogue.

Shortly after, there was a noise at the door. Faint male voices could be heard. It seemed the room's owner had returned.

She panicked, looking at the man beside her. He casually blew a puff of smoke and showed no signs of wanting to help.

She stomped her foot in anger, then hurriedly dropped the pinhole camera into the flowerpot on the nightstand. Afterward, she grabbed Andrew and pulled him into the bedroom's walk-in closet.

Inside the closet, it was pitch black. She took out her phone, gently swiped the screen, and connected it to the pinhole camera via an app. With her phone's screen, she could monitor what was happening outside.

On her phone's screen, Connor was pressed on top of a partially clothed woman, making rough and brutal movements. The woman appeared to be in pain.

"She's probably been drugged," a voice, purposely lowered, came from above her.

"We should call the police, shouldn't we?" Isabella instinctively raised her head, only to realize that Andrew's handsome face was inches away, and with every breath, she could smell his dry, crisp scent.

As they locked eyes, it seemed like there were intense flames burning within his blue eyes. The prominent Adam's apple rolled as he restrained himself.

For a moment, she seemed to see animal-like vertical pupils appearing in his pupils. She opened her eyes wide and suspected that she had seen it wrong.

"I don't like to meddle. It's up to you," Andrew said in a raspy, seductive voice.

The passionate scene on Isabella's phone screen outside the closet continued. Faint heavy breathing from the room outside mingled with the woman's painful moans.

"Yeah, we shouldn't meddle," she nodded firmly, her cheeks uncontrollably flushing red. Watching a passionate scene with a man while hiding in a closet was indeed an awkward situation. She reached out to turn off her phone.

With the phone off, the closet became pitch black, making it feel even more suffocating. Due to the limited space, their bodies were pressed close together. His steady breath seemed to caress her sensitive skin, and her heart was strangely thrown into chaos.

There was a not-so-light sound of the door slamming outside, indicating that the people had finally left.

Isabella felt as if she had been granted a reprieve and immediately pushed open the closet door and hurriedly jumped out, looking a bit disheveled.

In comparison, Andrew, with his long legs, nonchalantly stepped out of the closet. He watched as she retrieved the pinhole camera from the flowerpot by the bed, her finely chiseled features displaying a triumphant smile, radiant and dazzling, inexplicably captivating.

She walked briskly toward the exit, but halfway there, she seemed to remember something and suddenly turned back.

She stopped in front of Andrew, then suddenly reached out to tug at his collar, examining the label on his clothing. It was Versace, confirming that it was indeed a luxury brand.

"Are you trying to flirt with me?" he said as he puffed on his cigarette, letting a wisp of smoke drift lightly onto her face.

She coughed and released his collar, taking a step back. While coughing, she waved her hand to disperse the smoke.

"Smoke less, or you'll die young," she said disapprovingly. Then, she pulled a pink wallet from her handbag, wrote a $50,000 check, and tossed it to him.

"Spend it carefully. If you dare to use your son's formula money to buy luxury men's clothing, I'll make sure to deal with you."

She shook the pink-clad fist she was holding, and then, she briskly left in her high-heeled shoes.

Andrew watched her departure with a slow smile curving at the corner of his lips.

He returned to the private room, where Ryan sat on a large, comfortable leather sofa, brewing tea in a purple clay teapot.

"I've just prepared some oolong tea, try it," Ryan offered a teacup, but it was deftly blocked by Andrew's indifferent gesture. Tea wasn't of interest to him.

Ryan unperturbed by his rejection, took a sip and set the cup down before speaking, "Alpha, I heard that after the board meeting, you're going to take over all the affairs of Turner family. Is that true?"