The Contract Said No Strings Attached (Charlotte) novel Chapter 453

Rebecca spent some time going over the files in Dylan’s office, the two of them discussing the details as they worked.

When she noticed how late it was, she stretched and said, “I should get some sleep. I’ll head back to my room.”

Fortunately, her boss wasn’t cruel enough to demand an all-nighter from her. Dylan just nodded, letting her leave.

As she stepped out, she glanced back—Dylan was still hunched over his desk, absorbed in work. Rebecca hesitated, then called softly, “Mr. Carter, you should get some rest too. Burning the candle at both ends isn’t good for you.”

Dylan looked up, caught off guard by her concern, then managed a small smile. “Alright. I know.”

Rebecca finally closed the door behind her, letting out a long breath of relief. At last, she could get some proper sleep.

She slid her keycard through the lock—beep—and pushed open her door.

The room was pitch black, utterly silent.

Fatigue washed over her, and she dropped onto the bed. The soft mattress seemed to swallow her whole; her tense body instantly relaxed.

But in the darkness, a shadow crept silently toward her bedside.

Rebecca had just closed her eyes when she caught the faintest sound of footsteps. She snapped her eyes open—only to see a large, hulking figure looming over her.

Her heart seized. “Who are you?” she demanded.

She was just staying at a hotel—surely she wasn’t about to be attacked by some lunatic?

A greasy laugh echoed through the darkness, and she saw two meaty hands reaching toward her.

Rebecca reacted instantly, fumbling for the wall and flipping on the bedside lamp.

With a sharp click, the room flooded with light.

Now she could see the intruder’s face clearly, and her eyes went wide. “You?”

Mr. West grinned, all sleaze and entitlement. “Didn’t think you’d remember me, sweetheart.”

Rebecca’s lips curled in a cold smirk. “You didn’t succeed five years ago. You’re not getting anywhere tonight, either.”

As Mr. West charged, Rebecca grabbed the lamp from the bedside table and swung it at his head.

But he was ready this time; he caught the lamp, wrenching it from her grip.

Rebecca stared at his smug, grotesque face, disgust boiling in her stomach.

“Don’t fight it, darling,” he sneered, stepping closer, “just make it easy on yourself.”

But before he could touch her, Rebecca’s leg snapped forward with deadly precision, smashing into his groin.

Mr. West shrieked and collapsed to the floor, clutching himself and howling in pain. “Damn it! What, did you take martial arts lessons or something?”