The Contract Said No Strings Attached (Charlotte) novel Chapter 44

“Well now, you’ve got some nerve, don’t you? Slipping something into the drinks right under our noses.”

The waiter’s face drained of color the moment he realized he’d been caught. He dropped to his knees in a panic, but still tried to protest, voice trembling, “No, I swear, I didn’t… I didn’t do anything…”

Fitch turned to Dylan with a crooked grin. “Dylan, looks like your charm’s working overtime. Didn’t think you’d have men trying to drug you these days.”

Dylan’s expression darkened. A cold, commanding presence radiated from him, making everyone in the room instinctively recoil.

The waiter knelt on the floor, shaking so hard he couldn’t even look up.

Dylan’s voice cut through the tense silence, icy and low. “Speak. Who put you up to this?”

The waiter stammered, “No one—no one told me to do anything, I swear. I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Dylan shot a look at Jonas.

Jonas instantly caught his meaning. He flexed his knuckles, got up, and delivered a hard kick to the waiter’s side.

“You’ve got a death wish, messing with Dylan?”

Then came a punch to the gut.

“Talk. Who sent you?”

The waiter’s forehead hit the floor as he trembled, blood dripping onto the expensive carpet. His words were barely a whisper, choked with terror. “I don’t know, I really don’t…”

“Still playing tough, huh?” Jonas sneered. “Give it a minute, you’ll be begging to take it all back.”

He drew back to kick again. The waiter, terrified, scrambled further onto his knees, hands raised in surrender.

A flicker of ice flashed in Dylan’s eyes as he looked at Fitch. “Fitch, this is your place. Finding out who did this shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Fitch let out a low, humorless laugh. “Of course.”

His eyes settled on the beaten waiter, his voice as cold as a winter grave. “You must have a death wish, causing trouble in my place.”

Fitch’s stare was razor-sharp, cutting right through the trembling man. The waiter knew he’d landed himself in serious trouble tonight—everyone in this room was dangerous, not someone you’d ever want to cross.

Moments later, the bar manager hurried in, wearing a sycophantic smile. He took one look at the scene inside the private lounge and immediately understood what had happened. “Mr. Russell, this one’s new. Still doesn’t know how things work yet.”

Fitch’s expression didn’t soften one bit. “I don’t care if he’s new. If he doesn’t know how to behave, then teach him a lesson.”

The manager nodded so fast he nearly bowed. He knew better than anyone—no one messed around in Fitch’s territory and got away with it.