Lady Class - Chapter 47

The man loomed over her, his body casting a shadow across the deep neckline of her dress.

A man with black hair—someone who had helped her when she was struggling.

Her vision blurred with fever, but a familiar figure surfaced in her mind—Kahn.

The man’s hand reached for her mask, pulling it away, then pressed against her shoulder, easing her down onto the sofa.

“So you gave this body to another man first?”

His voice hummed with possessiveness.

A large hand wrapped around her waist. Instinctively, Rackley turned her head away, recoiling from the touch.

The man pressed his lips against her exposed neck. His breath was warm against her skin, followed by the damp, tepid sensation of his mouth.

Then, a sickening scent engulfed her.

“N-no… I don’t want this…”

With what little strength she had, Rackley pushed against the man. But instead of letting go, he twisted her wrist and pinned it down.

A wet tongue slithered over her neck, while his other hand shoved up her dress, fingers grazing her bare thigh.

No—this isn’t Kahn.

The scent was wrong, the touch repulsive. Even as the fever burned through her body, a wave of chills coursed down her spine, draining the blood from her limbs.

“I said no!”

“No?”

The rough voice snapped her awareness back for a moment.

The first thing she saw was blond hair.

A man with a vulgar tone and a greasy voice lifted his head, grinning wickedly.

Bowil Solomon.

Rackley’s body trembled.

“You…”

“You’re mine anyway,” Bowil sneered. “You’re not a virgin anymore, so what’s with all this pretense? Let’s see if you’ve got any flaws before the wedding, shall we?”

“No! Get away from me! We’re not even married yet!”

“You bitch! You already spread your legs for another man, and now you dare refuse me? As if it wasn’t bad enough that my fiancée has already been touched by someone else!”

“Let go!”

She had no strength left, and the man’s weight pressing down on her was suffocating. She couldn’t move.

“No… No…”

A helpless sob escaped her lips as tears streamed down her face.

She had known that once she was married, she would have no choice but to consummate the union.

She had prepared herself for it.

But not like this.

Her legs were forced apart as the man’s rigid body pushed between them.

“Stop… please…”

“You’ll start liking it soon enough.”

Something hard pressed against her damp entrance.

With a rough yank, the man grabbed at her delicate undergarments.

“No!”

BANG!

The door suddenly burst open, and a pair of tangled lovers stumbled into the room.

Bowil flinched in shock before snapping in irritation.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh? Didn’t expect someone to be here. Wait—aren’t you Solomon? Mind sharing the room? The others are all full.”

“Get. Out.”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that. What’s the big deal? Let’s have some fun together. Whoa—!”

Baron Harverden, staggering as he clung to a woman’s shoulder, crashed into Bowil, toppling over him.

The thick stench of alcohol filled the air, and the woman in Harverden’s arms giggled uncontrollably.

Suddenly, she reached down and grabbed Bowil’s crotch.

“Oh my, so small,” she cooed.

“Really? That small?” Harverden teased with a smirk.

“Y-you…! Get out!”

Bowil, feeling insulted, grabbed Harverden’s arm as he chuckled and dragged him out of the room. Even as this happened, Harverden kept leaning his heavy body against him, wrapping his arms around Bowil’s shoulders, and exhaling damp breath near his ear, sending shivers down Bowil’s spine.

The woman’s laughter-laced voice, calling them small, was humiliating.

“Drunks, get lost somewhere else!”

“I said let’s do it together.”

There was a brief scuffle as the woman grabbed onto Bowil and refused to let go, but he eventually managed to drive them out and shut the door. He wiped the cold sweat off his brow, exhaling a curse as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

“Damn nuisances, all of them. Huh?”

Bowil turned around—only to find the sofa empty. The woman, Rackley, who had just been watching him with flushed cheeks, was nowhere to be seen.

He quickly pulled back the terrace curtains and looked down. It was the second floor—too high for a woman to escape alone. And yet, there was no one in sight.

“Where did she run off to?!”

The situation was serious.

This was a masquerade ball—a place for people to conceal their identities and indulge in pleasure. Because of that, there were also unsavory groups mingling at the party.

To such people, Rackley—who had ingested an aphrodisiac and could barely control her own body—would seem like an easy prey.

If anything happened to Rackley here, the engagement could be jeopardized.

‘Bowil, I don’t need to tell you what this engagement means. Be careful not to act recklessly and bring up talk of breaking it off. If the noble bloodline fails to merge with the Solomon family, you will die.’

Sir Solomon had money, but he also carried an inferiority complex over his commoner status. He had been overjoyed that his family was finally forming ties with nobility through this engagement, and if it fell apart, he wouldn’t let Bowil off the hook.

“Damn it!”

Bowil bolted out of the room.

He had to find Rackley before something happened.

Kahn ran down the hallway in search of Rackley and spotted Irina Solomon. She had just come out of a room and was speaking with Bowil Solomon.

After Irina left, Bowil Solomon entered the room alone, which seemed suspicious.

Carefully opening the door, Kahn saw Bowil approaching Rackley, who was leaning weakly against the sofa.

He was about to charge in and knock Bowil down when Baron Harverden grabbed him from behind.

Harverden blocked his path and dragged him into the hallway.

“What the hell are you doing?! Let go!”

“They’re engaged! If you rush in and throw a punch, what happens when your identity is exposed?! If what happened at the villa is revealed, the one at a disadvantage won’t be you—it’ll be that young lady!”

“Harverden! Rackley is under the influence of an aphrodisiac! This is coercion!”

“What?! That bastard is pulling something like this?”

Baron Harverden might have been a debauched man, but he despised the idea of forcing himself on a woman.

Kahn exhaled sharply and spoke quickly.

“You said this mansion belongs to one of your men, right? There must be a secret passage.”

“Yes! There is! A hidden exit!”

“Cause a commotion and divert his attention. I’ll get her out in the meantime.”

The mansion hosting the masquerade ball belonged to one of Baron Harverden’s followers. Harverden quickly showed Kahn the entrance to the secret passage before running off to create a distraction.

Inside the passage, Kahn used the faint light filtering in through the peepholes to locate the room where Rackley was.

“Damn it, you already did it with another man. It’s bad enough that my fiancée has already been touched by someone else, and now you dare reject me?”

“Let go of me!”

Her desperate cry of refusal made his heart pound with urgency. Peering through the hole, he saw Bowil forcing himself on her. Kahn frantically felt along the wall for the handle to open the hidden door.

“No….”

Her trembling, tearful voice erased any remaining hesitation. It no longer mattered if he was exposed. He opened the secret passage door.

Just then, Harverden entered the room with another woman.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh, look who we have here. Isn’t this Solomon? Mind sharing the room? The other ones are full.”

“Get out.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. What’s the big deal? Let’s just have some fun together. Whoa!”

Harverden grabbed Bowil and dragged him into the hallway, subtly signaling to Kahn.

While the two scuffled outside, Kahn slipped into the room and scooped up Rackley in his arms. She was sobbing, so he covered her mouth and carried her into the secret passage.

“Kahn… Khaaaan.”

“Shh.”

He ran frantically through the passage. Her body was burning hot, and the arms wrapped around his neck trembled slightly. Her quivering voice called out to him desperately.

Kahn’s heart pounded harder now than when a blade had been pressed against his throat.

“Where did they run off to?!”

Bowil’s enraged shouts gradually faded into the distance.

***

He gave the coachman their destination and climbed into the carriage.

Laying the weakened Rackley onto the cushions, he watched as she whimpered and reached for him.

“Kahn… Kahn.”

Her small hands clung desperately to his clothes.

The fear of what could have happened—of how Bowil might have forced himself on her if they had been just a little too late—kept Rackley trembling.

Her sweat-dampened hair clung to her face. Gently brushing it aside so it wouldn’t tickle her, Kahn felt her lips press against his palm as she licked the hollow of his hand.

With reddened eyes, she gripped his wrist and parted her lips.

A sharp wave of desire surged through him.

Kahn swallowed a curse.

When the butler, Brand, had spoken about the vial at the villa, the circumstances hadn’t added up, and Kahn had been suspicious.

But because of his past experiences, he had misjudged Rackley. He had believed she had deceived him, that she had approached him deliberately with ulterior motives. He had been angry—without even bothering to confirm the truth.

There had been more than enough suspicious details, yet he had ignored them.

He had framed her in the way that suited his own perspective.

“Mm… Kahn, it’s so hot…”

Reclining on the opposite seat, Rackley reached out, her fingers trailing over his thigh. The way she gazed at him—her eyes dewy like grass kissed by morning mist—sent a jolt through him.

“Kahn…”

Her voice, thick with need, called for him. Begging to be held. The sound seeped into his mind like honey.

“You’re under the influence of the drug. Drinking plenty of water will help neutralize it. Once we arrive, I’ll bring the antidote, so hold on.”

There was a water bottle in the corner of the carriage. Supporting her shoulders, he helped her sit up. Her hands roamed over his back, making it clear that she wanted him.

Kahn clenched his jaw.

No.

As Harverden had said, he was not a man who could take responsibility for Rackley.

“Drink.”

He pressed the bottle to her lips and tilted it. She swallowed sweetly, her throat moving with each gulp. Some of the water overflowed, trailing down her chin and pooling in the hollow of her collarbone. Her long lashes trembled, and a peachy flush bloomed across her cheeks.

Her gaze, hazy with heat, met his as her eyelids lifted.

“Ah…”

She threw herself at him, and Kahn couldn’t bring himself to resist.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as her lips found his. With her delicate body pressed against him, she straddled his thighs, her lips parting against his as she fed him the water she was meant to swallow.

Their tongues intertwined, sliding and pulling, tasting and taking.

She wanted him.

“Damn it.”

The familiar scent of her made him dizzy, as though he had returned home. Heat coiled deep inside him.

They had only spent about a week together, yet she fit against him as though she had always been his. The slick friction of her lips against his, the way her tongue moved, the lightness of her body as she melted against him—it all seeped into him once more.