Chapter 3: Don’t Blame Me For This

Mr. Clarkson snorted to show his consent. Scarlett immediately picked the bottle up and knocked back the contents of it. Mr. Clarkson looked at her, drinking the wine. Some of it dripped onto her chest, and Mr. Clarkson smiled in satisfaction at the sight of it.

Everyone sitting in the room was amazed by her drinking capacity– only Scarlett knew this was nothing for her. It was a cakewalk, drinking all that wine in one long swig.

Within minutes, she finished the wine and showed Mr. Clarkson the empty bottle. “Enjoy your time, Mr. Clarkson. My apologies for causing you trouble earlier; I do hope you have a pleasant stay here.”

Scarlett felt a little dizzy from drinking all the wine and couldn’t stand up straight. The manager immediately grabbed onto Scarlett, seeing her grow nauseous, and said to Mr. Clarkson, “Mr. Clarkson, if you would permit me to, I think I’m going to take Scarlett to the lounge upstairs, so she can rest a bit.”

Scarlett noticed that Mr. Clarkson acquiesced to the manager’s request with a flirtatious, almost foxy kind of smirk. She sensed that something was wrong, but she couldn’t tell what it was exactly.

Her nausea got worse and worse, and she felt overwhelmed. How strange, she thought, I’m usually good at holding my liquor. “Wait… something’s wrong… that wine… there was something else in it… I’ve been drugged!” Scarlett murmured. She was too dizzy to say or do anything. She had been incapacitated.

The manager held Scarlett’s left arm and took her out of Mr. Clarkson’s room. She said to Scarlett, “Listen, you don’t have to work tonight. Why don’t you just head upstairs and get some rest?”

Scarlett leaned against the cold wall and asked, “Ma’am, can I just go back home?”

“Go back home? Right now? It’s too late, babe, and you’re drunk. I’d worry too much about you if I let you go home alone right now. Just go upstairs and rest up, yeah?” The manager said.

Scarlett pulled out her cell phone and tried to call Sir Fond up. Before she could dial all the numbers, her manager snatched her phone away and said, “Hey hey, let me call your family up for you.” Annoyed by the way Scarlett was acting out, the manager pinched her waist, venting her anger and frustration.

Scarlett was hurt, and her head was spinning. She felt sure that the wine had been spiked with some drugs. Her manager, also, was acting very strange. Her words and behavior made the situation all the more complicated. She came to realize that this must have been a conspiracy right from the start. Her manager must be in cahoots with the so-called Mr. Clarkson. They must have ganged up with each other, planned to drug her, kidnapped her, and turned her into a sex slave.

Realizing this terrible fact, Scarlett bit her tongue to keep herself sober even though it was really getting more complicated as time passed by. The manager pushed her into the elevator and took her to the 10th floor.

When the door of the elevator opened, Scarlett was pulled out by the manager and dragged toward a room. She gritted her teeth, using all her strength to struggle against the manager. Even though the manager tried hard to pull her into the room, she failed.

“Son of a bitch!” The manager cursed. She took her phone out and called her two bodyguards to come.

The manager grabbed Scarlett’s ear and said, “Mr. Clarkson is a very wealthy man, and you should feel blessed that he wants anything to do with you. Who the fuck do you think you are? Stupid bitch.”

Not long after, two huge, muscular men came, waiting for the manager’s order. “Drag her into the room. Now. Go!”

Scarlett was so scared that she grabbed onto the heavy potted plant on the floor. She held it desperately and didn’t let go. But she was a tiny girl. How could she hope to resist two strong men? They picked her up effortlessly as if she were as light as a feather.

The manager tidied her collar and looked at Scarlett. She had been doing this work for years, finding young girls for wealthy patrons looking for some fun. She had gotten used to these things. This was her job, after all. “Don't blame me for this. Serve Mr. Clarkson well, and you will have your good days too.”

Just as the manager was about to leave the room, Scarlett heard the sound of footsteps treading on the carpet that ran along the corridor. The footsteps were soft, but they were firm.

It was none other than Mr. Sandler. The manager's face turned pale. She greeted the man heading towards her with a smile, “Is everything okay, sir? May I help you with anything? Here at Mystic Night Garden, we are always at your service.”

Scarlett was still sober and heard the manager’s trembling voice.

Looking up at the person, she saw a tall and dignified figure standing there. He had an icy air about him– he meant business. Although Scarlett’s vision was blurry, and so she couldn’t see the man’s face very clearly, she could still sense that he had a dominant and magnetic presence. His aura was like that of a king– he stood as if he were perched at the top of some pyramid, looking down on his subjects.

Scarlett thought this man had scared the manager so bad that this might be the last straw.

She used whatever little strength she had to bite the wrist of one of the bodyguards. Shocked, he retracted his arm quickly. Scarlett took this moment to kick him in the groin. The bodyguard fell backward, and Scarlett was set free from his control. She rushed towards Mr. Sandler, falling right into his arms.

“Oh honey, you came here for me, right? It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have left without leaving a message. I promise there won’t be the next time, okay? Honey, please just take me home, I’m tired of working here. Those guys are so bad.” Scarlett looked into Mr. Sandler’s eyes and hoped desperately that he would understand she was in grave trouble.