Chapter 147: In Hotel Room

"Haungh~"

A breathless, shockingly lewd gasp tore from Andrea’s throat, her back arching instinctively against his hard chest.

The sudden electric shock of his calloused fingers sliding beneath her shirt, shoving the delicate lace of her bra upward, and directly tweaking her sensitive, pink peaks sent a jolt of fire straight through her core.

"You shameless bastard!" Andrea yelped in a flustered panic, her voice cracking as she tried to squirm away from his firm grasp.

She had been momentarily paralyzed by his earlier whispered promise—the tantalizing idea that she might finally awaken tonight—and the opportunistic bastard hadn’t hesitated for a single second to take full advantage of her daze.

Still, after teasing her swollen nipples and leaving her utterly breathless, flushed, and trembling in his arms, Fredrinn didn’t push her to her absolute limit in the middle of the gory hallway.

He gave her waist a gentle pat, smoothly slipped his hands back out from beneath her top, and offered a relaxed, perfectly innocent smile as if his hands had never wandered in the first place.

Andrea whipped her head around, fixing him with a deadly, murderous glare. If looks possessed the lethal power of an Awakened skill, Fredrinn would have been turned into an ash pile on the spot.

Standing just a few feet away, Jenny watched the entire shameless display unfold.

Her cheeks burned a furious, beet-red hue as she stared at him blatantly groping and fondling Andrea’s defenseless body right in plain view.

Hell, she had heard that involuntary, wet moan slip past Andrea’s lips with crystal clarity, and the sound alone made Jenny’s own stomach clench with an unfamiliar, molten heat.

Logically, Jenny thought she should feel appalled.

She should have felt deeply embarrassed or outright disgusted that he was so brazenly exploiting an unawakened girl out in the open.

Yet, as she stood there watching, Jenny realized with a sickening thud in her chest that she felt neither of those things.

She was angry, yes—furious, even. But the fury had nothing to do with morals.

It was raw, unfiltered jealousy.

She was intensely, violently envious that it wasn’t her body being pushed against his chest, no matter how shameless, humiliating, or pathetic that realization was.

She had worked so hard, fought so fiercely, and ran up and down the building just to earn his attention, yet Andrea was the one receiving his wandering hands.

Naturally, such a stormy reaction didn’t escape Fredrinn’s notice for an instant.

With his heightened Awakened senses, he could read the burning, envious glare written all over Jenny’s face from a mile away.

Even so, he chose not to humor her just yet.

Fredrinn had already mapped out Jenny’s personality. Beneath her tough, pragmatic exterior, she was an inherently possessive, competitive woman who harbored a distinct submissive and masochistic streak.

Handing her the affection and physical pleasure she craved on a silver platter would only diminish its value.

For Jenny, prolonged denial, building tension, and a little psychological torment were the exact ingredients needed to make the eventual payoff all the sweeter.

Rose, meanwhile, didn’t particularly enjoy watching him get so hands-on with other females.

But since she had already given her explicit permission as his dutiful partner, she saw no reason to throw a petty fit and disrupt his good mood.

Instead, she casually retrieved another strawberry lollipop from her dress pocket, popping the glossy candy past her lips.

With a sultry, hypnotic sway of her hips, she strolled past the bloody debris and nudged open the door to Room 308.

"Hubby, I chose this room for us," Rose announced in a melodic, playful tone, turning back to beam at him. "It’s the cleanest on the floor, and there’s a big tub, an AC unit, and a television."

"Oh?" Fredrinn grinned, using his arm to pull a still-pouting Andrea along with him.

The dark-haired beauty continued to throw him daggers, though the violent blush dusting her collarbone undermined any real threat.

When Fredrinn crossed the threshold and stepped into the room, he finally understood why Jenny had praised this particular establishment so highly.

The walls were coated in a warm, pristine cream paint, completely devoid of the grime and soot outside.

Dominating the center of the space was a massive king-sized bed—easily wide and sturdy enough for four adults to stretch out side by side in total comfort.

The plush cushions and thick comforter looked untouched, clean, and invitingly soft.

Though the room lacked lavish, excessive decorations, the sleek, minimalist aesthetic gave off an unmistakable air of modern luxury.

On the far wall hung a stylish, minimalist painting of a stag’s antlers, lending the space a quiet, artistic elegance.

Then there was the bathroom.

Through the frosted glass door, Fredrinn could see a sprawling, deep-soaking bathtub tucked into the corner.

It was enormous—large enough for two people to lie side by side with plenty of room to spare, built to comfortably accommodate even a seven-foot-tall frame.

The surrounding walls and flooring were finished in alternating black and white marble tiles, polished to a mirror shine and radiating expense.

Fredrinn stood in quiet awe, taking in the amenities with wide eyes. Back in his previous world of Apolasia, technology had never evolved to such a refined, convenient peak of indoor plumbing and climate control.

To him, this ordinary high-end hotel room was an architectural marvel.

Beside him, Andrea blinked in pleasant surprise. A great deal of her lingering anxiety and shyness began to evaporate into thin air as she imagined spending the night secluded inside such a gorgeous, clean sanctuary, miles away from the rot of the streets.

Jenny, having frequented upscale hotels before the world went to hell, wasn’t nearly as awestruck by the decor.

However, standing in the doorway, a different kind of tension gripped her chest.

The reality of sharing an intimate, locked room overnight with Fredrinn, his demonic wife, and Andrea was finally setting in, making her throat run dry.

"By the way, there are much bigger suites up on the seventh floor," Jenny remarked casually, leaning against the doorframe as if it were trivial information.

"Bigger suites?" Fredrinn turned to her, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Presidential suites and penthouses," Jenny explained with a light shrug. "Way more spacious, far more lavish furniture, private bars... basically luxury on another level."

Fredrinn blinked, processing the concept, before waving a dismissive hand with an easy, confident smirk.

"If space and fancy furniture are the only differences, then I honestly couldn’t care less," Fredrinn said smoothly, his eyes sweeping across the three women before him with unmistakable heat. "After all, once the door is locked, all my attention is going to be on you girls anyway. It doesn’t matter how luxurious a room is—a pile of fancy wood and stone could never compare to any of you."

"Hehe," Rose giggled sweetly, thoroughly pleased by the open praise as she twirled her candy.

Andrea’s face flared red all over again. She looked away, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Tsk... smooth talker," she muttered under her breath, though the corner of her lips traitorously curved upward.

"Hmph. Just making up pretty excuses for being completely lecherous," Jenny scoffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest.

Yet, despite her sharp tongue, the soft, pleased smile tugging at the edge of her lips told Fredrinn everything he needed to know.