"Who are you?" Eloise looked at the two tall, burly men in black with shock.
"Miss Devereux, our apologies." One of them propped up the door, bowing politely to apologize. After standing, he unfolded a black cloth larger than a bath towel and quickly wrapped it around her from head to toe, securing it in several swift turns.
Eloise's screams grew increasingly muffled as the layers of fabric thickened, eventually reduced to muted, stifled sounds. She felt her body lighten, as if someone had hoisted her onto their shoulder. Charlie signaled with his eyes for his companion to retrieve the bag Eloise had left in the room, then took the lead, striding toward the elevator and heading downstairs.
As Eloise bounced in the back seat of the car, she remained utterly confused about how she had ended up being kidnapped midway through the plot. It wasn't until the black cloth was lifted that she was blinded by the sudden glare of light, and there, crouching beside her, she saw Isidore.
Isidore clicked his tongue in disdain. "What's this look you're going for?"
"Huh?" She was still in a daze.
"Wasn't it so decisive when you left? How come you had time to change into lingerie?" A faint mockery played on his face as he hooked the delicate strap on her pale shoulder, flicking it back, the sting making her shoulder throb with pain.
Eloise's face turned red, "Do you understand fashion? This is a trendy hollow-out mini skirt, not some kind of lingerie!"
Isidore wrinkled his nose, his gaze skeptical as he scanned her from head to toe. "Is there such a thing as a proper skirt this short?"
"None of your business—" Before she could finish her sentence, Eloise's eyes adjusted to the light, and she saw seven or eight burly men in black surrounding her. She barely managed to swallow her words. "Mr. Kingswell…" she quickly knelt down, calling out pitifully.
Isidore was almost amused by her sense of propriety. "Your mood changes pretty quickly," he said with a chuckle. "Not long ago, you were glaring at me, and my arm... you were pinching it." He rolled up his sleeve, revealing two bruises on his sun-kissed forearm.
"Oh no, how did that happen? Let me blow on it for you." She sat up, annoyed, carefully blowing on his arm. Isidore felt a cool, soothing breeze and decided to wait until she had finished blowing off steam before addressing the matter at hand.
He stood up, straightened himself, and leisurely walked over to a sofa, sitting down with an air of superiority as he looked down at her. "Charlie said you were brought here from the hotel. Quintus was in the same room, drunk." He tilted his chin slightly and kindly asked, "What were you planning to do?"
Eloise knelt on the floor, blinking her large eyes innocently. "He's the son of my father's old friend, an older brother I grew up with. He's drunk, so I'm just taking care of him. Isn't that too much to ask?" Isidore nodded and rested his chin thoughtfully, "Just taking care of him? Nothing else in mind?"
"Absolutely not!" Eloise shook her head with a look of pure innocence. Isidore nodded in appreciation of her understanding, then kindly reminded her, "You do know he's engaged, right? As for me, I'm a bit of a stickler for justice. I can't stand people who try to ruin others' relationships."
Eloise patted her chest in assurance. "I won't casually ruin someone else's relationship. I understand that much." She then clasped her hands in a mock prayer, her expression full of repentance. "As for what I said about you and Lucienne... it was all a misunderstanding! Since it's a misunderstanding, let's let it drift away with the wind!" She gestured with her fingers, mimicking the motion of something floating away in the breeze.
The several men in black around them were struggling to stifle their laughter. Isidore watched her, flustered and acting as though she were performing on a stage, knowing that the silly girl was on the verge of being terrified. Amused, he waved his hand with a subtle gesture, signaling for his subordinates to leave.
As Charlie was leaving, he casually placed Eloise's small handbag on the coffee table. Isidore, intrigued by the pink bag shaped like a cat's head, picked it up and played with it, commenting, "You're carrying a bag out this late…"
He gave it a light shake, and with a "plop," a condom fell out of the bag's inner pocket. Charlie, catching it in his peripheral vision, quickened his pace, eager to leave the scene as quickly as possible, shutting the door behind him. The air froze.
Eloise caught a hint of a smile at the corner of Isidore's mouth and was so frightened she almost trembled. "This is for not wanting to do what?" He pinched the condom between his fingers, squinting as he looked at her "kindly."
Heaven have mercy, Eloise was truly wronged. She didn't know where she had heard that keeping a condom in one's bag could improve financial luck, and had developed this easily misinterpreted habit!
Listening to her flustered explanation, Isidore remained noncommittal, neither affirming nor denying her words. He turned the bag upside down, and a few items fell out. Among them was a small black object, roughly the size of half a fingernail, shaped like a chip. Eloise couldn't remember ever having something like that in her bag.
Isidore picked up the two packets of cold medicine and lightly tossed them onto her forehead. "There are cups and hot water over there, make it yourself and bring it over to drink."
Eloise followed his instructions, and when she returned, it seemed he had just finished connecting some device to the TV screen. He sat on the sofa, picking up the remote, and patted the empty seat beside him. "Come, sit."
How could Eloise dare to refuse? As Isidore browsed the menu on the screen, he explained, "This is a surveillance device with a tracker." "Oh... huh?" When she finally realized, Eloise was startled. When had it been put into her bag?
The image on the screen answered her confusion—right when she was weaving through the crowded bar, her shoulder bumped by someone. Eloise remembered how she had been hanging out the window, trying to stealthily snap a photo—so "this" was what it meant to be professional...
Isidore lazily leaned against the back of the sofa, watching the chaotic scenes unfold on the screen as if he were watching a movie. He curled the corner of his mouth and said, "If I catch you doing anything to seduce Quintus..." He didn't finish his sentence but turned to Eloise and gave her a smile.
Eloise shuddered, the hair on the back of her neck standing up, and she returned a dry smile.
A long segment played on the screen, showing Eloise's struggle to get Quintus into the hotel room. The footage was shaky and lacked any real significance, yet Isidore watched it with patience and meticulous attention. Once in the room, there were several minutes of still footage with only sound—Quintus vomiting in the bathroom, while Eloise stood by handing him tissues.
Isidore's face had started to show signs of displeasure. He turned his head to check if Eloise had properly taken her cold medicine, casually complaining, "You sure have a lot of patience with others." Eloise chuckled dryly, her heart pounding like a drum.
When Eloise climbed onto the bed in a revealing short skirt, half of her chest exposed as she spoke to Quintus, Isidore pressed the pause button. He smiled, but his eyes burned with a dark flame: "Finish what you were saying. From that point on, what exactly did you do to him...?"
Eloise spoke solemnly, "My respect for him, like the sand in the desert, is immeasurable." "Oh," Isidore raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued, "Such is the case? What kind of dance did he teach you? May I, by any chance, be honored to witness it?"
What kind of dance... how would she know! Eloise had only read the lines from the original text, and such a backstory added by the lines was never fully described in the original book. "It's been... so long, I don't remember."
Isidore looked at her coldly, his expression clearly saying, "Are you going to dance or not?" Eloise swallowed her pride, stood up, and danced the only move she knew—the three little bears dance she had learned from children dramas.
Enduring the shame as she performed, Isidore's expression softened slightly. He continued watching, only to see her pull Quintus's clothes downward.
