Chapter Thirty-One
CAMILA
I should’ve been getting used to waking up in a bed that wasn’t mine, with no idea how I’d ended up there. And once again, just like the last time, I had Michael as company.
Only this time, there were a few differences.
First, he wasn’t asleep like before.
Second, he was fully dressed, although more casually than the suits I was used to seeing him wear.
Still lying in the unfamiliar bed, I lifted the white duvet covering me to check my own body.
Thank God... the third difference was that I was also dressed.
"Good morning," Michael greeted me. He was sitting in an armchair near the bed, watching me while sipping something hot from a mug. "Everything’s fine, but I imagine you must be confused, so I’m here to answer all your questions."
What the hell was going on? I had no idea what kind of questions I was supposed to ask. Just like on the night of the company party, there was a blank in my memory. But this time, it was even deeper.
There weren’t even flashes of memories like last time. It was as if I had simply disappeared from the bar table and appeared here, in this bed with white sheets, in this room with white walls and curtains, facing this man who looked so beautiful he could be an angel.
"Did I die?" That was the only question I could come up with.
For one completely insane moment, it made sense in my head.
Not for Michael, obviously, because he froze for a few seconds, then blinked in confusion, and finally burst out laughing.
I don’t think he would’ve reacted like that if he were an angel welcoming my soul to paradise, which had to be a sign that I was still alive.
"No one died here, Camila. First of all, relax, you’re at my place. I called your grandma last night and told her you were going to sleep here."
"You told my grandma I was going to sleep at your house?
" I knew I was a grown woman, that we were in the 21 st century, and it was completely ridiculous to be shy about spending the night with my supposed fiancé.
But it was the first time in my life that my grandmother had been informed about it. "Oh God, what must she think of me?"
"Actually, her words were, ‘Enjoy yourselves, my darlings.’"
I felt like choking, even though I wasn’t eating anything.
"She said that?"
"She did. After we talked for about twenty minutes. She said how happy she is that you’ve found a ‘good man,’ and..." He sighed, setting the mug down on the side table. "She asked me to take good care of you. I felt really bad for not doing that the right way."
What did he mean by that? It had to be related to whatever situation had led me to end up in his house.
His house...
And his bed , apparently.
Right, this was already the second time in just over a month that I was facing the terrifying thought that I’d lost my virginity and couldn’t remember anything afterward. The first time, it had been just a misunderstanding. But now?
"Did something happen between us?" I asked, bluntly.
"Once again, you just slept. You can relax about that."
I nodded, although some crazy part of me thought it was a shame to have wasted a total inhibition blackout and not slept with that gorgeous man.
Wait... Blackout? But I’d only had one drink, nothing more.
"Why don’t I remember how I got here?" I asked, confused. "Actually, the last thing I remember is a man asking you to move your car because it was blocking his. You told me to wait. After that, I can’t remember anything."
"Nothing after that?"
"Absolutely nothing."
I don’t know if it was just my impression, but he seemed a little disappointed, as if there was something from that night he wished I’d remembered.
But he didn’t press it and just explained, "There was no car.
It was a trap. The guy tried to hit me with a metal rod, but I was faster and managed to scare him off. "
"My God! Were you hurt?"
"No. That was the least of it."
"Did he steal anything from you?"
"No, that wasn’t his intention. It was a setup to leave you alone. Another guy at the bar managed to slip something into your drink. It must’ve kicked in right after I left and you were by yourself."
I completely froze, panic washing over me at what that could mean.
Seeming to read my thoughts, Michael tried to calm me down, "Don’t worry, nothing happened to you. The guy tried to leave the bar with you. But I got back in time. We ended the night at the police station. He confessed everything and was detained."
"And what was he planning to do?" I asked, heart pounding from fear of the possible answers.
Michael didn’t seem very comfortable having to tell me, but he did it anyway, "According to his own statement, the plan was to take you to a hotel across the street and take compromising photos to send to the press. Another guy at the bar was paid to, once I returned after recovering from the blow, come to me and say that my fiancée had gone with a guy to the hotel. The idea was that I’d catch you in a supposed act of cheating and break off the engagement.
But they probably counted on the possibility that I might not end it because of the lawsuit, so they’d use the photos as leverage.
It would be another scandal for Michael Turner, and that would reduce my chances of winning custody of Alice. "
I didn’t even know where to begin processing everything he’d just told me. It was fear, mixed with rage, mixed with disgust, mixed with a deep sense of gratitude that nothing worse had happened.
"Was he arrested?" That was the first thing I managed to ask. I was terrified at the thought of that man trying something again.
"Actually, first he was taken to a hospital, but he should’ve received the necessary care and will probably go straight to jail soon."
"Hospital? Why?"
"Maybe I hit him. A little."
"How much is 'a little'?"
"Enough that we don’t need to worry about him escaping the hospital. The bastard could barely walk."
I noticed a half-smile of satisfaction on Michael’s face when he said that. I couldn’t blame him. I liked the idea of that creep getting what he deserved.
Only then did I focus on something else important: Michael had done all that to protect me.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. His voice had lost its light tone and now sounded a bit distressed.
I answered honestly, "Like I’ve been run over by ten tractors, five tanks, and a steamroller." Truthful and specific.
"Is it the same as the ‘hangover’ after the company party?"
"It’s the same symptoms, but way more intense."
"I figured. I guess that answers our doubts about whether we were drugged that day. This time, they probably gave you a higher dose to make it act faster."
"Will it take long for this to wear off?"
He stood up and picked up the mug from the side table, informing me, "Since I figured you’d be like this, I told your grandma yesterday that you’d spend the day here with me.
I said we’d take Sunday to decide some things for the wedding.
So, you can relax and rest as much as you need. I’ll take you home tonight."
I agreed, knowing that in my current state, there was no way I could pretend nothing had happened in front of my grandma.
Michael continued, "There are clean towels, soap, a new toothbrush, and anything else you might need in the bathroom. My mom sometimes stays here, and she always leaves some clothes, so I picked a few things for you. It’s a pajama set, kind of tacky, but she’s about your height, so it should fit and keep you comfortable for the day. "
"Thank you," I said, not just for the towels or pajamas, but for everything.
For saving me, and for taking care of me. The tiredness on his face made it clear he hadn’t slept much that night.
He shook his head, looking uncomfortable with the gratitude.
"Actually, I’m the one who owes you an apology for all this. But we’ll talk about that later. I’ll get you some breakfast. I’ll be downstairs whenever you want to come down, take your time."
And before I could reply, he hurried out of the room.
I stayed there for a while, sitting and replaying everything he had told me and his reaction.
I understood that he felt guilty for all of it, but the truth was, the blame lay with awful people like the Harrises. It had definitely been another one of their schemes.
Michael was a victim in all of this, not the culprit.
Finally, I got up and went to the bathroom in the suite where I’d been put up.
I took a long shower—not just to relax, but because my movements were still too slow.
I put on the clothes he’d picked out for me and, when I looked in the mirror, I laughed, realizing he was right: they were kind of tacky, in a flashy way.
Horribly pink, decorated with sequins—or whatever those shiny things were.
My mother-in-law was definitely a character.
Wait... My mother-in-law ?
She was Michael’s mom, that was all. My engagement to him was a lie, and I needed to keep that very clear in my mind.
Leaving the bathroom, my stomach growled with hunger, and I thought the idea of going downstairs and having that breakfast Michael mentioned sounded pretty good. I opened the bedroom door, ready to leave, when I was attacked by a wild creature. A real savage wolf.
I screamed in terror as I was thrown to the floor.