NovelApp"Boss Bella, we should swing by our safe house first. I'll have someone dress your wounds there."
"No need, just hit the hotel. I've got a first aid kit on me." Arabella was prepared; she always carried an emergency medical kit
whenever she went out.
"Okay, then letat least stop the bleeding for now." Horace fished through the car and found sgauze, efficiently wrapping it
around Arabella's bleeding arm to stop the flow.
They were often on assignments, so the car was usually stocked with medical supplies. But this time, they were down to nothing
but bandages—the medicine had all been used up.
"Just bear with me, we'll have you patched up in no time." After applying several layers of gauze, Horace make sure it was fastened
securely. Throughout the process, Arabella remained silent and stoic, though her complexion was noticeably pale and weary.
"Boss." Horace couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy seeing her like this—and it was well past 2:00 a.m..
Arabella must be exhausted, and likely famished.
"Hand over your jacket."
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When Arabella said this, Horace assumed she was chilly and quickly took his off, helping her put it on with care.
But a moment later, something dawned on him, and he exclaimed in shock, "Boss Bella, are you covering up your wound so that
Romeo won't see it and worry."
Arabella gave him a look that said: “If you've figured it out, why ask?”
Horace zipped his lips, swallowing hard, and at the stime, he couldn't believe that—Boss had changed.
She actually showed a vulnerability now!
Pulling up at the hotel entrance, Arabella gave her orders, "Take strusted guys and head back to the states. From now on,
you're my right-hand man. I'll head back with Romeo tonight or tomorrow. Head over to Jack's and wait for me."
Horace considered asking if he could join them on their private jet, but then thought better of it—he didn’t want to be the third
wheel.
"Boss Bella, make sure you get that wound seen to as soon as you're up there. Don't wait." he urged instead.
"Sure." Arabella confirmed and headed into the hotel.
Horace stayed until he saw her step into the elevator before driving off.
With Romeo upstairs, Bella would be in safe hands.
Reassured, he could feel a weight lift from his shoulders.
Upon reaching her floor, Arabella found the presidential suite's door slightly open. Inside was chaos—a clear aftermath of turmoil,
as if a storm had passed through.
The hotel manager and several executives were awkwardly gathered near the sofa, incessantly bowing to Romeo and apologizing,
"We're terribly sorry, Mr. McMillian. This incident was a lapse in our security. Please accept our deepest apologies."
Noticing Arabella, Romeo dismissed them and rushed to her side, "Are you hurt?"
She gave a slight shake of her head and questioned, "What happened?"
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"Sthugs forced their way in here," Romeo replied in a low voice.
Seeing her paleness, he quickly fetched her a glass of water and urged her to drink, his eyes filled with displeasure as he glanced
at the inept hotel staff. "Why are you still there?" he growled.
The staff bowed again, expressing their gratitude for Romeo's understanding, then hastened to straighten up the furniture.
But it was clear—the coffee table split into pieces, the windows and doors damaged, and bloodstains on both the bed and carpet.
This suite was beyond staying in.
"The suite next door is all set. The door is open, and I'll arrange slate-night delicacies to be delivered."
Before the manager could finish his words, Romeo shot him a stern glance that immediately cut him off. Knowing to exit swiftly,
the man bowed out.
An attempt on Romeo's life in their hotel.
If the word got out, how would the hotel ever attract the high society?
With such a security failure, who among the elite would trust a stay there?
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