A CEO With An Impossible Libido Chapter 09

A CEO With An Impossible Libido Chapter 09

After she got my call, Ivy froze for a second, then quickly agreed.

“Sure. I live on Ocean Drive. There’s an outdoor café nearby with an ocean view. Should I send you the address?”

I nodded.

“Okay. I’ll see you in two hours.”

The comments appeared.

[Vivian asked Ivy to meet. Is she going to confront her now?]

[What did the real heroine do wrong?]

[If she wants to go crazy, she should go after the male lead.]

[She can’t control her own man, so why take it out on the heroine?]

[Did you hear that? Ivy said she lives on Ocean Drive.]

[She probably lives in Julian’s beachfront villa on Ocean Drive.]

[Julian apparently hasn’t been going back to Hartwell Manor lately. He’s been staying over there.]

[Vivian finally can’t sit still. I’m here for the drama.]

Unfortunately, the comments were going to be disappointed. There would be no drama.

I was looking for Ivy for reasons that had nothing to do with Julian.

My private feelings would not affect my work.

Besides, my impression of Ivy was different from what the comments claimed.

The comments had affected my emotions.

But they were not enough to affect my judgment.

I was trying hard to stay rational and not be led astray by them.

At Driftwood Café, Ivy walked toward me.

She wore a strapless top and shorts, her hair curled into loose waves.

She looked completely different from the quiet, reserved girl who worked at Hartwell Group.

When she sat down, I vaguely saw kiss marks on her collarbone, partly hidden by her hair.

It felt as if a hand had clenched around my heart, making it ache.

I told myself there had to be a misunderstanding.

The marks on Ivy’s neck might not have anything to do with Julian.

But the comments just had to poke the sore spot.

[You’re sad after seeing the marks, aren’t you?]

[Ivy doesn’t just have kiss marks on her neck. They’re everywhere.]

[Don’t be fooled by how quiet and introverted Ivy seems at work. Privately, she’s passionate and wild.]

[Forget Julian. What man wouldn’t like that kind of contrast?]

[Julian must be addicted now.]

[Of course. Otherwise, why would he drive to Ocean Drive every day after work and stay holed up in that beachfront villa even on weekends?]

[Everything Vivian owed him, he’s getting back from Ivy.]

I really wanted to block these annoying comments.

Every single line was designed to provoke me.

I might be the so-called side character, as the comments kept calling me.

But I didn’t seem to have done anything unforgivable, right?

Was it necessary to be so malicious toward me?

Was it necessary to pit Ivy and me against each other like this?

Pushing my thoughts away, I briefly introduced Ivy to my work and our recent research project.

Admiration lit up in her eyes.

“Wow, Vivian, you’re amazing. You’re actually a botanist.”

I took out a photo of the Succubus Vine, handed it to her, and asked, “Ivy, have you ever been pricked by this plant’s thorns?”

Ivy looked as if she had found someone who understood her. She grabbed my hand and looked like she wanted to cry.

“How did you know? This is called Succubus Vine?”

“Succubus Vine is the code name our lab gave it.”

I observed the scars on her fingertips.

There were more than a dozen tiny puncture-like scars.

She began to tell me slowly, “Half a year ago, I went on a group hike in a valley. I saw a vine there, the one you call Succubus Vine.”

“I just thought it was pretty, so I wore gloves, dug it up, and transplanted it into a pot at home.”

“One time, when I was pruning it, I forgot to wear gardening gloves and got pricked by a thorn.”

“Do you know what happened? I actually squeezed out a drop of pale-blue blood.”

“And then I had some… not-so-good reactions.”

The more Ivy spoke, the more bashful she became.

I understood immediately and nodded as I continued, “What happened after that? How many times have you been pricked in total?”

Ivy went on. “After I was pricked once, it was like an addiction. Every few days, I wanted to let the thorns prick me again.”

“All in all, probably twelve or thirteen times.”

“I remember that after the third time, my body started getting out of control. I would always…”

At this point, Ivy sighed.

“Anyway, it was unbearable.”

Then she changed the subject.

“Vivian, I don’t want to be like this.”

“Isn’t your lab developing an antidote? Can I help you test it?”

I told Ivy about the risks of volunteer testing.

She stated firmly that to free herself from the Succubus Vine’s control, she was willing to take the risk.

Ivy also said she wasn’t the only one.

She had joined an online support group filled with people whose bodies had been altered after being pricked by the Succubus Vine.

Some people enjoyed having that kind of body.

But most felt it was interfering with their lives and wanted to be cured.

They had been to countless hospitals and taken all kinds of medication, but nothing worked.

She said she would ask the people who wanted a cure whether they were willing to volunteer for testing.

I said I would go back and discuss it with the others at the lab.

Once we confirmed that the new dose was harmless and had no side effects, I would contact her.

I reminded Ivy, “When you go home, remember to dispose of that potted Succubus Vine. Don’t get pricked again.”

“Okay.”

Ivy nodded.

She took out a small box of delicate teddy-bear-shaped shortbread cookies from her bag and handed it to me.

She said sincerely, “Vivian, I’m really sorry about knocking over your pastries last time.”

“I made these teddy-bear shortbread cookies myself. Please try one.”

Warmth spread through my heart.

This was the Ivy I remembered.

She had no bad intentions.

I took one of the teddy-bear shortbread cookies and tried it. It was crisp, buttery, and delicious.

I told her, “It’s very good.”

Her eyes shone as she looked at me, sweet and playful.

“Oh, right. My boyfriend and I made plans to go deep-sea fishing.”

“He’ll be here soon. If there’s nothing else, I’ll head out?”

“Okay.”

I waved goodbye and watched her leave.

I still thought Ivy was poised and straightforward.

When she mentioned her boyfriend, it didn’t feel like she was provoking me.

It felt more like her boyfriend had nothing to do with me.

After taking a few steps, Ivy turned back.

In a small voice, she said, “Actually, you know my boyfriend.”

My heart tightened, and my breath caught.

Then I heard Ivy say, “It’s Russ Ludlow. For the past six months, whenever I felt awful, he was the one helping me…”

“Oh, and my boyfriend and Julian were college classmates.”

“He asked Julian for a favor, which was how I got into Hartwell Group for my internship.”

“Once I finish my three-month internship and have work experience on my resume, I’ll go work at Evergreen Power Authority.”

My mind buzzed.