Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“You look like you could use this.” A male voice startles me, and when I lift my lids, I find Axel standing in the shadows with me, his eyes cast in sympathy as he holds out a flute of champagne. “Looks like he got sidetracked and forgot about you.”
“You don’t know him very well.”
With a shrug, Axel leans against the wall next to me, and we face the statue. That larger-than-life piece of art shields us from view of the party, though the collective din floats to my ears.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks.
To hide my nervousness, I take a long gulp of the bubbly, wrinkling my nose at the bitter taste. “Nothing to talk about.”
He raises a brow.
“It’s complicated,” I say, relenting. “I’m overreacting. It’s been a long day, and I think the stress is getting to me.”
He waves at my empty glass. “That should help.”
Mouth suddenly dry, I lick my lips. “Shouldn’t have finished it so fast.” I lean my head against the wall, waiting for the foyer to stop spinning. A minute passes. Maybe two. “I need to get back. He’s probably looking for me.” I take a step away from Axel, but he grips my arm.
“He’s busy talking to someone else, remember?”
“But…” My eyelids droop, and his form doubles in my vision, swaying to the left. “I’m not feeling so well.”
“No? Maybe you need a minute.”
I crash into his hard chest, and he winds his arms around me.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” His words wash over me, deep like the darkest part of the ocean, and his warm fingers take the empty glass from my heavy hand.
“Sebastian.” It’s a croak of a cry, weak like me.
“Shhh, you’re going to be fine.”
Everything whirls, goes dark.
Why is my head throbbing? I force my eyes open, and the terracotta floor bounces in my vision. Is someone carrying me? Everything’s spinning, growing hazier by the second, but through an open door, I spy three guys and a girl sprawled on a couch, the table in front of them cluttered with what looks like drug paraphernalia.
The next time I claw my way to consciousness, I’m on my back in the dark…the kind of suffocating nothingness I find terrifying. My mind trudges through mud, trips over itself in search of understanding. I try to lift my arm but can’t. I’m laden, nauseous…tired. So tired.
Wait.
Something’s wrong.
No…something hurts.
Rough hands grabbing my breasts.
Teeth nipping at my neck.
Hot breaths burning my collarbone.
I can’t breathe.
“No, I don’t…” Is that my voice, muttering slurred syllables?
“Relax, sweetheart. I’m gonna make you feel real good.”
Sweat breaks out on my skin, traveling down my legs to the soles of my feet, and what he said loops through my fuzzy mind, little more than garbled words. But as he pushes up my dress, his intent is clear.
“Sebastian,” I cry, the murmured plea but a whisper on my parched lips.
“He’s not here right now.” A zipper sounds, followed by a groan. “Fuck, you’re going to be a tight little thing, aren’t you?”
I will my body to squirm out from under him as he pries my thighs open, but I can’t get my limbs to work. “No,” I try to scream.
Except the protest comes out as a groan, forced back by the sandpaper tongue in my mouth. No matter how much I try to call out for help, to fight, to keep my eyes open, I just…can’t.
There’s nothing, and then the room is bright and distorted, and someone’s cradling me against a familiar chest. A comforting chest—warm and solid and smelling of home.
“Hold on, baby.”
Sebastian, his voice choked and horrified.
Broken.
I’m sinking again, my eyelids heavy, body limp in his arms. When the blackness threatens to take me again, I fight it with every ounce of strength I have left.
But it’s an uphill battle I can’t win.
12
A voice tempts me with the promise of comfort, the familiar rhythm carrying each syllable through the highs and lows, inflections hitting my ears in a melody of calming music. That magical voice urges me to leave the cloak of nothingness behind, to tiptoe toward the light and listen.
“She’s still sleeping. The doctor said it’s normal after the type of drug she was given.” Footsteps sound back and forth, each step a heavy landing. I know that gait. It’s his signature walk when he’s wound too tight.
“It was a rough night, but she’s okay. It’ll be a few days before she’s up to traveling home.” Another pause, and that’s when I rise into full consciousness. Opening my eyes is a struggle, my lids dry and gritty, weighted with exhaustion.
“We hired a private security team. They’re still looking for him,” Sebastian says into the phone.
Security team?
Confusion blankets me as my surroundings come into focus, and I recognize Sebastian’s penthouse bedroom, although the blinds are drawn to block out the sun.
He paces the floor, phone to his ear. “That isn’t necessary.” With a sigh, he listens to whoever is on the other end. “I figured as much.” He drags a hand through his hair, turning to face me, and his gaze meets mine. “I’ve gotta go. She’s awake.”