Chapter 720

Eleanor possessed an ethereal beauty, her delicate features glowing under the dim lighting.

She radiated confidence. Tonight would be the night she finally claimed Henry Lancaster's heart.

Upstairs, Henry sat buried in paperwork in his study. Having pledged his life to Isabella, endless responsibilities demanded his attention.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar heat surged through his veins. His fingers fumbled with his collar buttons, but the feverish sensation only intensified.

He staggered to his feet and retreated to his master suite, turning the shower to its coldest setting.

The icy water did nothing to quell the fire raging within him. If anything, it stoked the flames higher.

Wrapped in black silk pajamas, Henry collapsed onto his bed and reached for his phone to summon his assistant.

The duvet shifted.

Eleanor emerged from beneath the covers, her skin still dewy from her bath. A rosy flush colored her cheeks as she gazed at Henry with liquid desire.

"Henry..." Her voice was honeyed temptation.

A fresh wave of heat crashed over him. His throat worked as he growled, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Her lips curved. "Waiting for you."

Henry's jaw clenched. "Get out. Now."

He tried to stand.

Eleanor moved faster. She launched herself at him, her arms locking around his torso. Her voluptuous body molded against his back, warm and pliant.

"Don't go," she purred, her breath hot against his ear. "Do you really want me to leave?"

Henry's pupils dilated, crimson bleeding into his gaze. Years of celibacy meant nothing against the drug's potency. His last shreds of resistance crumbled.

Eleanor knew the aphrodisiac's power intimately. Sensing his weakening resolve, she traced the hard planes of his chest through the thin silk.

"You're burning up," she whispered, lips brushing his earlobe. "Why fight it? I'm right here. I've always been yours."

Henry shoved her onto the mattress. "This is wrong!"

He tried to retreat again.

Eleanor caught his neck, pulling him down. "Why? I love you. Don't you feel this too? I want to belong to you completely."

Henry trembled with restraint. Sweat slicked his forehead as veins corded his straining muscles.

The face beneath him blurred—transforming into Isabella's breathtaking features.

"Isabella..." His voice cracked.

Downstairs, Victoria Lancaster lounged on the velvet sofa, savoring her espresso.

She knew what was unfolding upstairs. Once Henry crossed that line with Eleanor, victory would be hers.

The maid's voice shattered her reverie. "Mrs. Lancaster! You're home?"

Victoria's cup froze mid-air.

Isabella stood in the foyer.

And she wasn't alone. Harrison stood beside her.

They'd arrived together.