"First, a nurse comes here, and now a doctor is on the way—are you trying to make this place into a hospital?" Ruby Miller protests resentfully, "I heard the doctor is a woman. Is that true?"

"Who told you that?" Andrew asks, a hint of pride in his voice, "You know you make a perfect informant."

"Michelle Cindy told me, I think she overheard the information while eavesdropping," Ruby says, shirking responsibility.

"Who is Michelle Cindy?" Andrew asks curiously.

"She's the woman who attempted to seduce you," Ruby explains, "Two of your bodyguards fucked her publicly the other night."

"Why is she still here?" Andrew asks, puzzled.

If Ruby hadn't reminded him of the details of that night, he would have forgotten entirely about Michelle Cindy.

"What a bad man!" Ruby scolds, "You have too many women to keep track of."

"Mr. Clifford, the bathroom has been prepared," a servant announces, emerging from the steamy bathroom.

She blushes upon seeing the scene on the bed and quickly turns around to afford the couple some privacy. Her face flushed a deep red.

"Are you going to take a shower?" Ruby asks, her eyes gleaming with hope and desire, "Can you take a shower with me?"

"How can you take a shower with me if I can't get hard, hmm?" Andrew asks flirtatiously, "As soon as I can get hard, I promise I'll use my dick to help you take a shower."

Ruby looks down hopefully, but their conversation hasn't had the slightest physical effect on him. With a sigh, Andrew gets up and walks to the bathroom, leaving Ruby alone on the bed. She stands just as several women rush into the room. They're all wearing beautiful dresses and have massive amounts of makeup on their faces. Their voices form a confused babble.

"Is the woman in here?" one asks.

"Where's the woman who cut the head off the snake?" asks another.

"Who cut the head off the snake?" third woman chimes in, "Mr. Clifford wouldn't like such a horrible woman, even if she is a doctor."

"A doctor?" asks the first, "Michelle Cindy said the woman is her classmate—she didn't say anything about her being a doctor."

"Michelle's classmate?" frets one woman, "Michelle is such a bad woman—any classmate of hers must also be a bad woman."

"Hush, you're all so noisy," Ruby complains as she sinks onto a sofa, "There's nothing to worry about—it's just a woman. Not long ago, you were all worried because Andrew brought a virgin nurse here to care for him, but you can see she didn't change anything. Please calm down, and this new woman will not threaten our position."

"How can you be sure?" asks one woman, "Mr. Clifford hasn't made love to any of us for a long time. I think it's because of Gabrielle."

"Mr. Clifford indeed has some problems," Ruby acknowledges reluctantly.

"What? Is it true? What should we do?" the women clamor.

"We need to find a way to help Mr. Clifford recover," Ruby says.

"You're right," the women agree, "Our slogan should be 'Get Mr. Clifford's Dick Up!'"

At three in the afternoon, Andrew emerges from the shower. He has spent hours scrubbing his face and luxuriating in the hot steam. He combs his hair, selects a watch and a pair of socks, and evaluates his appearance in the mirror. A guard knocks urgently on the door, and Andrew scowls.

"Mr. Clifford, it's Mrs. Howel—" the guard begins.

Upon hearing Avery's married name, Andrew shoots the guard a warning glare.

"Miss Peters refuses to come in," the guard hurriedly corrects himself.

"And why did she refuse to come in?" Andrew asks.

"She said she wants to see Miss Peters, errr, that is the special nurse," the guard stammers, "Miss Peters said that she wouldn't come in unless the special nurse safely comes out and greets her."

Andrew looks at the mirror unhappily. A strand of hair refuses to stay in place; instead, it falls across his forehead. He scoops some salve from a jar and tries to force the stubborn hair to stay put, but it flops back over his forehead again.

"Can't you solve this problem?" Andrew asks, continuing to arrange his hair, "Bring her here, forcefully if you must."

"We've tried, Sir, but she has a gun, and she's already injured several of my colleagues," the bodyguard says carefully.

The mole at the corner of Andrew's eye seems to move slightly. Andrew realizes he's not surprised to hear about Avery's actions. He knows the woman well. She's stubborn, and she's fierce, and even if his heart weren't forcing him to love her, he would find her incredibly attractive.

"The owner of the heart has good taste," Andrew thinks wryly.

Andrew finally finishes fixing his hair and exits the changing room.

Outside, Avery looks around and finds that a thick bank of fog has encircled the villa. Birds tweet in the distance, and the sound reverberates strangely through the mist. Avery can't see clearly, and everything about the place makes her feel uneasy. She feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

With her long, elegant necks, Avery looks like a swan rising out of the mist. She knows the bodyguards are watching her, but none of them dare to approach her as long as she holds the mini-pistol in her hands. She stands on a broad cobblestone road and gazes up through the fog at the building in front of her.

The villa is towering and castle-like, and it's easy to imagine it as the lair of a dark vampire. Avery shakes her head, but she can't shake the image of Andrew as a sensual vampire. Suddenly, Andrew emerges from the mist. She desperately wants to shoot him on sight, but she can't risk anything so dangerous as long as he keeps Gabrielle prisoner.

"I never expected Mr. Howel to let you go," Andrew says with a smirk, "It seems that you're not so important to him after all."

"Don't talk nonsense!" Avery snarls, "I want to see Gabrielle."

Avery stands her ground, and Andrew approaches her slowly.

"I warn you—don't come too close to me," she threatens, "I'm armed, and I'm not great at handling the gun. I can't guarantee I won't hurt you."

"This is the first time that I've ever heard someone use bad marksmanship as a threat," Andrew says with a smirk, "Felicity Winter, it seems we're friends in adversity. Every time I meet you, there seems to be a gun involved. Do you welcome all your friends by pointing a gun at them?"

"If you don't bring Gabrielle to meet me, I'll do something more than the point," Avery whispers, deadly calm, "Do you doubt me?"

She looks at Andrew and realizes she hates what she sees. He's wearing a purple shirt, and his hair has been carefully arranged. Although he is as handsome as Evan, she finds something about Andrew distinctly repulsive.

"What if I refuse your request?" Andrew asks, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

"If you refuse my request, I'm going to experiment with my marksmanship," Andrew says, leveling her gun at his chest, "I'm going to see if I can make a bullet pass through your heart from here."

"I'm sure you won't do that," Andrew says with a cruel laugh, "On the contrary, I believe you'll treat my heart very well in the future."

"Perhaps, I should aim for your brain then," Avery retorts, "There seems to be something wrong with it anyway."

"I'm less interested in changing my brain than I am in changing a woman," Andrew says vaguely.

"I don't want to talk nonsense!" Avery snarls, "Bring Gabrielle here now!"

Andrew snaps his fingers, and a bodyguard passes him a tablet. Andrew swipes on the screen and then lifts the tablet so Avery can see. The display shows a video of Gabrielle running through the forest.

"I released her, okay?" Andrew asks.

Avery purses her lips and stares at the screen. The video shows no evidence that Andrew released her; it's possible Gabrielle escaped on her own. It's also possible that the video is some sort of a trap.

"Gabrielle runs fast—just like you, I'd imagine. Both of you have long legs, and women with long legs are good at running," Andrew says admiringly, "But legs can do many things besides run, and some of them are quite interesting to me. I prefer to have a pair of legs like that wrapped around my waist. Don't you think that could be fun?"

"I don't," Avery says flatly, "It seems we've both met our end of the deal: you've released Gabrielle, and I've met with you. I'll go now."

"What makes you think I'll let you go?" Andrew asks.

"What more do you want from me?" Avery asks.

"I want you," Andrew says frankly, "My heart wants you."

"What's the matter with your brain?" Avery asks again.

Andrew laughs arrogantly and walks toward Avery. Though Avery cocks the gun and aims it at his chest, he continues walking as calmly as if nothing has happened.

"The problem isn't with my brain, but my heart," Andrew explains, "Indeed, my heart seems to love a woman with a husband."

The closer he gets to her, the more violently his heart hammers in his chest.