Chapter 4 Shane And His First Kiss

• The following day, the production crew started staying in a hotel in Hofcaster.
• After the staff had left, the penniless Whitney immediately grabbed her room card and went downstairs to eat and drink without spending a penny. During her work period, the keycard was registered, and the production crew paid for all her meals and drinks.
• She blissfully stepped into the elevator. It halted at a middle floor, and two individuals entered. Engrossed in her phone, Whitney didn't notice.
• Suddenly, she felt an abrupt gaze casting upon her.
• She abruptly lifted her head, and she instantly froze in surprise. Shane again?
• Shane glanced at her briefly. There was a guy standing next to him, probably his assistant, Martin Hamnett.
• Silently, Whitney subtly moved a bit to the side.
• The elevator halted at the restaurant floor. It was only when Whitney sat down to order that she realized Shane was also at the restaurant, but he had entered a private room.
• When she had finished eating and was planning to return to her room, she suddenly heard someone shouting from outside the elevator.
• “Wait! Wait!”
• Without thinking, Whitney pressed the door's open button. After that, she saw Shane's assistant, Martin, whom she had met before, supporting a visibly unwell Shane, whose face was abnormally flushed, as they walked in.
• “Thank you,” Martin said to Whitney before quickly turning his attention to his employer. “Mr. Quimbey, are you okay?”
• The man shook his head with his eyes closed, one hand pressed against his forehead.
• Martin was on the verge of tears. “It's all my fault. I didn't check properly and overlooked the high alcohol content in the drink. Mr. Quimbey, should we go to the hospital? Landon mentioned your allergy—”
• “It's fine,” the man interjected, cutting off the other's rambling. His voice, however, was startlingly hoarse.
• The revelation took Whitney by surprise. It turned out that Shane had an alcohol intolerance. Judging by the sound of it, it seemed like his allergic reaction was quite severe.
• At that moment, there was a sudden clanging sound.
• The elevator abruptly went dark, followed by a violent shaking.
• “Ah! Mr. Quimbey!” Martin exclaimed.
• Whitney was originally standing in a corner, somewhat unresponsive. But in the next second, a sudden shadow loomed before her.
• Before she could react, she found herself supporting the other person.
• The faint scent of alcohol wafted into her nostrils. It was Shane.
• Just as she was about to push the person away, the elevator jolted again. Left with no choice, Whitney could only hold on to the person for the time being.
• After a while, the elevator ceased its shaking, and the lights came back on. However, the elevator doors remained shut, still suspended mid-air.
• “Help me!” Whitney pleaded with effort.
• Martin hurried over to help Shane up, only to find that Shane had his eyes tightly shut, having already lost consciousness.
• “Mr. Quimbey!” Martin shouted.
• Initially, Whitney was a bit impatient, but her expression suddenly changed after she glanced at Shane. “Put him down.”
• Martin was taken aback. “What?”
• “Lay him flat on the ground!” Whitney raised her voice.
• Martin was somewhat hesitant, but he promptly laid Shane down.
• Whitney knelt beside the stunningly handsome man who had already passed out, carefully undoing his coat.
• Martin was dumbfounded. “W-What are you doing?”
• “Enough talk. Lend a hand!”
• Whitney quickly removed the man's jacket and shirt, her gaze never straying from his bare, well-defined torso. Her hands overlapped, her arms vertical, and she began performing CPR on him.
• After several attempts at CPR, she lowered her head again, pressing her ear against his chest to listen. A moment later, she lifted her head.
• She then tilted Shane's chin upward, parting his lips.
• Martin was truly petrified. “A-Are you going to—”
• In the next moment, the woman lowered her head, her cherry-red lips targeting the man's slightly warm, thin lips.
• Their lips then pressed against each other.
• After three full minutes of administering CPR and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, the man on the ground finally coughed, his brows furrowing tightly.
• Seeing that he was about to wake up, Whitney quickly stepped back, hastily wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She pointed sternly at Martin, warning him in a harsh tone, “Don't you dare breathe a word about this! Or else you'll regret it!”
• Martin had a pitiful look on his face.
• Shane had woken up, but the elevator had not yet opened.
• Unfazed, Whitney sidestepped the man lying on the ground and made her way to the door to inspect the buttons.
• The buttons had all turned black. Even the emergency bell couldn't be pushed.
• Again, two coughs echoed from behind.
• “Mr. Quimbey, are you all right? You scared me to death!” Martin helped Shane sit up, comforting him as he said, “If anything were to happen to you, I couldn't bear it!”
• Shane didn't utter a word, simply rubbing his brows.
• The warm breath, still tinged with a cool fragrance, had yet to fade from his lips.
• He lifted his gaze, looking toward the girl by the door.
• At that moment, Whitney turned around, arms folded across her chest, and uttered condescendingly, “The elevator is down, and we can't reach anyone in the security room.”
• Martin was in a panic. “What do we do now?” He hurriedly pulled out his phone, only to find there was no signal. “We need to get Mr. Quimbey to the hospital quickly!”
• Whitney glanced at Shane on the ground, noticing he was still watching her. Unconsciously, she raised her hand to touch her lips again, feeling a bit guilty as she said, “He's in stable condition. The critical period has passed. It's not urgent to get him to the hospital.”
• Martin didn't know who Whitney was, so he carefully asked, “Are you a doctor?”
• “Yes,” Whitney said with an unabashed face.
• Martin promptly said to her politely, “Would it be possible for you to check on Mr. Quimbey again? Sorry for the inconvenience.”
• With an audible click of her tongue, Whitney displayed an expression of impatience across her face. Nonetheless, she still crouched down and abruptly seized Shane's right hand.
• Seeing her performing the pulse diagnosis, Martin was taken aback. “A-Are you a traditional medicine practitioner?”
• “Do you look down on traditional medicine practitioners?” Whitney raised an eyebrow, glancing a second time at Martin's lower abdomen threateningly. “The method I use for physical castration is unparalleled.”
• Martin immediately covered his crotch with his hand.
• “Don't scare him,” the weary man advised, leaning against the elevator wall with his ink-black eyes slightly lowered in a state of exhaustion.
• With a huff, Whitney roughly shook off his hand, standing up as she declared, “He's fine.”
• Martin was somewhat intimidated by Whitney, neither daring to speak nor ask questions.
• The elevator was momentarily consumed by silence. After a few minutes, the light on the button finally illuminated. From within, the voice of a security rang out. “Is anyone in there?”
• Five minutes later, the elevator doors finally slid open. Whitney was the first to exit, swiftly turning to enter the adjacent elevator, which took her to the floor where her room was located.
• The following morning, at half past five, the alarm clock had already begun to ring.
• Whitney got up and quickly freshened up. She then took a glance at her suitcase.
• Aside from a cheap bottle of baby lotion she had picked up from a supermarket, she didn't own a single piece of cosmetics. After leaving the Saltzman residence, all she had to her name was the suitcase she had at the time and a little over one thousand in her bank account. At that moment, however, she only had thirty left in her bank account.
• After applying moisturizer, she changed into her clothes and patiently waited in the room.
• At six o'clock, the room's doorknob was gently turned.
• Whitney was slightly taken aback as she gazed at the door.
• A moment later, the cameraman outside the door, holding his camera, locked eyes with Whitney inside the room. She was appropriately dressed, and even her suitcase was neatly packed.
• The atmosphere was a tad bit tense.
• “Y-You're awake...” The production crew, which had hoped to surprise the female star by revealing her bare face, felt slightly awkward.
• Whitney blinked and asked, “Didn't you guys say it would start at six?”
• The production crew felt silent. They said so, but they never expected that someone would actually wake up at six in the morning.
• “Since you're awake now, it's your turn to take over. Draw lots to decide the order, then take turns waking up the guests. The car leaves at seven. Any guests who don't make it in time will have to find their own way to the first tourist spot.”
• Whitney gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgment before stepping forward to draw lots.
• The first person she drew was a female celebrity named Sasha Fletcher.
• Upon seeing the room number on the back of the card, Whitney headed straight for the elevator.
• Inside the elevator, Whitney asked the cameraman, “Has the livestream started yet?”
• “Yes.”
• Without uttering a word, Whitney cast a glance at the camera.
• The elevator swiftly reached the designated floor. Upon arriving at Sasha's room, the cameraman immediately pointed his lens at Whitney, eager to capture her cautious expression.
• However, Whitney remained expressionless. She swiftly swiped the keycard over the sensor, and the door swung open. She pushed her way in, flicked on the light, and directed her words toward the figure lying motionless on the bed, wrapped up like a mummy. “Get up!” she commanded.
• Her voice was ferocious and arrogant.
• The cameraman shuddered in fright, trembling momentarily. After the tremor, he turned in shock toward Whitney before laboriously focusing on the woman lying in bed. The woman's face was covered with a blanket, and she looked utterly bewildered.
• “Ah! How did you get in?” Sasha realized something was amiss, shrieked in surprise, and retreated into her covers, using her hands to shield her face. “Don't point the camera at me! Please!”
• Whitney, with an air of impatience, crossed her arms. “We leave at seven. If you can't wake up, you're on your own. Message delivered. Now off we go.”
• Once she finished speaking, she left immediately, a trail of staff members following behind her.
• Once outside, it was time to draw the second lot.
• There and then, the name she drew was Corbin's name.
• Oh? What a coincidence! Upon glancing at the room number on the back of the card, Whitney discovered it was on the same floor.