I quickly intervened, blocking the advances of the women. "Mr. Clark, we've wrapped up the contract. Mr. Johansson is still adjusting to the time difference. We should head back."

Without waiting for a response, I grabbed Owen and led him out.

I thought Owen was just having a minor breakdown, but to my horror, that jerk Vincent had spiked his drink!

Now, Owen was sprawled on the hotel bed, his face flushed, clinging to my waist with an almost desperate grip. He kept rubbing against me, mumbling about feeling unwell. His short hair tickled my skin, and I felt a mix of irritation and amusement.

I held his chin, forcing him to look at me. His dazed eyes met mine, and I decided to tease him a bit.

"Be a good boy and call me ‘sister.' If you do, I'll make you feel better."

He stared at me, silent for a moment. My heart sank—what if he isn't actually drunk? How am I going to explain this?

"Sister…" he mumbled in a sticky voice. Before I could react, I was suddenly toppled onto the bed, Owen's body pressing down on mine.

He was now on top of me, rubbing and kissing my neck while calling out, "Sister, I feel so bad… Sister, sister…"

His voice grew more emotional, losing its usual coldness and taking on a more pleading tone. I was overwhelmed, unsure of how aware he really was. His teeth occasionally scraped my neck, causing a sting mixed with a tingly sensation. His touches were relentless, making it hard for me to think clearly.

I grabbed his short hair, forcing him to look up at me. He groaned softly, still clingy, "It hurts…"

In the dimly lit room, I gently patted his face and asked, "Owen, do you still know who I am?"

Under the dim light, his eyes flickered with confusion before they settled on me. "Cameron…"

He lowered his head, nuzzling my neck like a tamed beast, and whispered, "You smell so good."

His warm breath scorched my face, and his voice, deep and tender, said my name correctly. I took a deep breath and hugged him tightly.

Owen was so strong that he could lift me with one arm, leaving me hanging in the air, my hands weakly draped over him. The familiar scent of mint wafted from his body, the kind he always used in his shower gel, and I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort.

My limbs went limp, my whole body felt like jelly, and my heart melted along with it. I really liked him.

I started calling out, "Owen, Owen... Owen, wait a moment..."

Look at me. Just look at me.