Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Serena
I woke up with my cheek resting on a soft pillow. My head hurt, the throbbing ache settling just over my left eye, and my ears were plugged. But worse was the heaviness of my body, as if it would take every ounce of strength I had just to lift my head.
Slowly, I focused my gaze on the room. I didn’t recognize the palette of rich colors—midnight blues, velvety purples, and muted golds. Elegant furnishing and décor surrounded a four-poster king-sized bed draped in satin. Lavish details extended to every corner, none of which were an extravagance afforded at the hotel I was supposed to be staying at.
This has to be a dream.
I blinked and tried to get my bearings. Tall, floor to ceiling windows revealed that it was nighttime. A flash of lightning in the distance transcended the barrier of the glass walls, blurring the lines between the room and the open sky beyond, leaving me suspended in air.
I looked around for a clock, or anything that would show me the time. I glanced at the nightstand, hoping to find my phone. Unfortunately, it held only a glass of water, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a cloth in a small ceramic basin.
I spotted my purse tossed haphazardly on a chaise lounge across the room along with a red gown.
The gown. The gala. The mysterious man with onyx eyes.
All at once, everything came flooding back. I pressed my fingers to my temples, recalling the events.
I’d struggled through the evening with what I’d suspected to be the onset of a flu. My mind had been anything but clear, and I’d found myself in the middle of too many pointless discussions. I hadn’t been able to zero in on my priorities at all, and the entire evening had been a bust. I’d left without having made a single meaningful connection—which also meant I’d failed to get the funding I needed to continue the excavation in Rome.
The idea that I might not be able to continue my father’s work brought on mixed emotions. I should be devastated, yet all I felt was an odd mix of disappointment and relief. I’d have to evaluate the conflicting reactions once I was feeling more like myself.
I thought about Anton, the stranger who made me foolishly believe that I could actually get a leg up at an event as prestigious as the Met Gala.
Trustfall my ass.
He’d made me drop my guard and then abandoned me to the wolves.
Why did he leave so abruptly?
More images from the gala flashed in my mind. Across from me had sat a stunning man with ice-blue eyes and silver streaks at his temples. I’d recognized him instantly as Jace LeMont, an Academy Award-winning actor who had starred in last year’s highest-grossing film.
Then there was the woman who’d sat beside him. She was beautiful, dressed in a revealing blue gown with drastic pointed shoulders and a plunging neckline. I hadn’t recognized her but assumed she must have been someone important to be on the arm of such a high-profile celebrity. They’d oozed elegance and poise, their movements graceful as they casually sipped their drinks served in the crystal, gold-rimmed glasses, completely at ease with themselves and their surroundings while I’d struggled just to keep down the hors d'oeuvre I’d consumed.
But then there was the older gentleman with a thick southern accent sitting next to me. His name was Allister Graham, a collector of ancient artifacts and an interested investor who could have possibly provided the funding I needed. The conversation I’d struck with him had potential—until his hand found his way to my leg under the table.
If I hadn’t already felt the urge to vomit, he had pushed me to the edge. I’d excused myself from the table before I really did get sick all over the guests and made my way to the bathroom. When I lost what little had been in my stomach, I knew I had to leave. My body ached with fever. I recalled going outside to call for a cab. That’s when Anton had come upon me.
From that point on, things started to get fuzzy. I’d been so tired. I remembered getting into his car…and then, nothing.
My eyes darted once again to the dress tossed over the chaise. Raising the comforter to get a view of myself, I found that I was dressed in a white T-shirt—a man’s T-shirt. I lifted the collar of the shirt to find I was naked, save my cotton panties and the ruby necklace.
“What the hell?” I didn’t remember undressing.
The last thing I recalled was Anton leading me to the backseat of an SUV. He’d climbed in next to me, so someone else had to have been driving. I’d fallen asleep, and I had no memory of how I’d come to be in this room—in this bed.
“Bad things happen to women who travel alone, Serena.”
I could hear my mother’s words as clear as day. She didn’t like the idea of me coming to New York on my own, but I’d had little choice. We didn’t have the money for her to accompany me, and my best friend, Caterina, hadn’t been able to get off from work.
Now here I was in a strange bed, having no idea how I’d gotten here. I mentally checked my lady parts. Everything felt okay, but that didn’t mean this wasn’t a horror movie in the making. I had to get out of here before something really bad happened.
Before I could consider an escape, nature called. There was a door on the other side of the room cracked open enough for me to see it was a bathroom. Using what little energy I had, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I stood, but my body swayed so much, I had to sit back down.
“Mother Mary,” I muttered. I was sicker than I’d realized. In fact, I couldn’t recall a time in my life when I’d felt this terrible.
I attempted to stand again, then slowly put one foot in front of the other until I reached the bathroom door. Once inside, I fumbled for the switch. I didn’t find one, but my movements alone seemed to trigger the lights. I glanced around, trying to get my bearings. The bathroom was beautiful, boasting sophistication and functional class. Any other day, I would have paused to take in every meticulously curated detail, but right then, my fevered body could only focus on getting to the toilet.
After using the facilities, I went to the sink to wash my hands. A minimalist pendant light hung just above the mirror, highlighting the dark circles under my eyes. I looked like hell, and as much as I knew I needed to leave this strange place, my body longed to crawl back into the soft embrace of the bed.
When I exited the bathroom, I stopped short at the silhouette of a man outlined against one of the wide glass windows. Startled, I gasped.
This is it. This is how I die.
He slowly turned, and I held my breath. When Anton’s beautiful face came into view in the dim light, I breathed a momentary sigh of relief before panic rushed right back in. After all, he was a stranger. Albeit, a very sexy stranger who made me weak in the knees, but that was beside the point. I was in an unfamiliar place wearing only a T-shirt that barely covered my underwear.
“Good. You’re awake. You had me worried for a while there,” he said, appraising me up and down.
“Where am I?” I demanded.
“My penthouse. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. The reality was that I felt ready to collapse. Everything hurt and I just wanted to sleep.
He moved over to the bedside lamp and turned it on. His head tipped to the side curiously as he studied my face. “You don’t look fine.”
“Gee, thanks,” I replied.
His lips curved slightly to form an amused grin before he took a step toward me. Instinctively, I backed away and tried to ignore how good he looked in a snug black T-shirt and blue jeans. It was a drastic shift from the polished man I’d met outside of the museum. This version of him was darker. Edgier.
“Princess, you should go back to bed.”
There was that word.
Princess.
It had stirred something in me when he’d first called me that, and even though I felt like death, hearing it again awakened that arousal once more. Not wanting to entertain why that was, I changed the subject.
“How did I get here?”
“You fell asleep in the car on the way to your…motel,” he re plied, not bothering to hide his disgust over the last word. “I tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t budge. I also didn’t like the idea of leaving you alone in that place when you clearly weren’t well. So, I brought you back here.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off the pounding in my head as I attempted to make sense of what he was saying.
“I don’t remember coming here, let alone climbing into this bed.”
“Like I said, you didn’t wake up. I carried you from the car to the bed.”
He carried me?
I blinked. Once, then twice, not understanding how I hadn’t been aware for any of it.
“You put me to bed?” The phrase came out more like a question as my eyes darted to the red dress in the corner. Reaching up, I tugged at the collar of the T-shirt I wore. “Did you put this shirt on me?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, almost as if he were holding back a smirk, before he admitted, “Yeah. I did.”
My eyes widened in shock, appalled to know that a perfect stranger had undressed me without my consent. The dress had a built-in bra, which meant I was braless once he’d removed it. My underwear was still in place—only a slight consolation—but my breasts had been exposed to him.
Completely exposed.
To my horror, I felt my nipples harden beneath the T-shirt—as if I were actually turned on by the idea.
I quickly crossed my arms to hide my traitorous body, equally furious at my physical reactions as I was by his audacity.
“You had no right to undress me.”
“Your breathing sounded a bit shallow, and the bodice of that gown was very tight. I made a judgement call.”
“You had no right,” I repeated through gritted teeth .
“It was the best choice. I’m not going to debate my decision to remove it. You aren’t the first woman I’ve seen naked, and you won’t be the last. Calm down.”
“Calm down?” I practically squeaked. I could feel my temper elevate with each passing second. He clearly didn’t know that telling a woman to calm down worked about as well as baptizing a cat. “You are presuming, arrogant?—”
“Yes, I’m all of the above, princess. And as appealing as you are to look at, I promise I didn’t stare or touch you in an inappropriate way. I don’t get off on taking advantage of incapacitated women,” Anton stated flatly. “Now get back to bed. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
I straightened, feeling indignant. “You don’t know what I look like when I’m about to pass out. This could be how I look when I’m tired.”
“Right. I don’t buy that for a minute. Bed. Now,” he ordered, moving to take hold of my arm to guide me toward the bed.
I wanted to fight him but knew any physical resistance would be futile. He was right. I barely had the energy to stay upright. Nevertheless, I didn’t have the luxury to sleep.
“I can’t stay here, Anton. I have a flight to Italy to catch.”
“When?”
I pressed my hand to my forehead and willed myself to remember the itinerary.
“Tuesday evening. It leaves around five.”
“I hate to break it to you, but that flight left hours ago. It’s Tuesday, just after ten.”
“Wait, what? No.” I shook my head in disbelief. There was no way I’d been here since last night.
“Anyone who sleeps for over twenty-four hours clearly needs it. Now, I want you to lie down.”
I was weak and in no position to argue. Every time one of us spoke, the words banged around in my skull until I thought I might get sick. Perhaps he was right. If Anton were a psychopath intent on harming me, he would have done so by now. But still. There was no reason for me to stay here. I could easily sleep off this flu in the privacy of my own hotel room, whether he approved of my lodging choice or not.
Which reminded me—my room. Not only did I miss my flight, but I was supposed to check out earlier that day. I wasn’t sure what would become of my personal belongings without notice of an extended stay.
“Anton, I can’t stay here. I need to go back to the Midtown. My things are there. I was supposed to check out this morning and?—”
“Not happening, princess,” he insisted, and then turned my body so that my back was to the bed. Pressing my shoulders ever so slightly, he forced me to sit on the edge. Within seconds, I found myself tucked back under the plush satin comforter.
“I really need to go,” I murmured faintly.
He brought his hand to my head. With a frown that seemed to express both concern and annoyance, he reached for the cloth in the basin and wrung out the excess water. With surprising gentleness, he ran the damp material over my brow.
“You’re still burning with fever.” Setting the cloth aside, he opened the bottle of ibuprofen, then handed me two pills and the glass of water from the nightstand. “Take this. It should help.”
“I’m fine.”
“Would you stop saying that?”
I looked dubiously at the pills. “I don’t need?—”
“It’s Advil. Not poison.” His interruption was flat with a hint of annoyance. “Now, here. Take these.”
He pushed the pills toward me. I stared at them for a moment before giving in.
“I really need to go,” I insisted again after I’d swallowed two caplets.
Ignoring me, he continued. “I’ll go to the Midtown and collect your things for you. Just rest. ”
Then, without another word, he ambled out of the room. I didn’t have the energy to chase him, never mind the idea of getting back out of bed. I wanted to, though. I wasn’t only worried about my personal belongings left behind at the motel. I had so many other things I needed to take care of, too. For starters, the expensive plane ticket that was nonrefundable.
But my eyes hurt too much.
Perhaps if I closed them for a bit, I’d be able to find the energy I needed to fix the mess I was in. Succumbing to the heaviness in my lids, I surrendered to the darkness and was back to sleep within seconds.