Chapter 16
Lexie stirred, her body heavy and aching in ways that didn’t make sense.
Her thoughts were foggy, tangled in a half-dream state as she blinked herself awake.
For a moment, she had no idea where she was.
The unfamiliar lemon-yellow walls around her glowed softly in the morning light, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air.
Her brow furrowed as she shifted, feeling the softness of the mattress beneath her—much softer than anything she’d ever slept on before.
She blinked again, her gaze sweeping across the elegant furnishings in the room: a delicate bedside table with a crystal lamp, floor-to-ceiling curtains framing the windows, and a plush armchair tucked into the corner.
It was a far cry from her thrift-store-furnished cottage.
Where am I? she wondered, her heartrate beginning to speed up as disjointed flashes of memory started to surface. She sat up, the sheets sliding off onto the floor as she took a deep breath. And then, like a flood, the events of the previous night—and the day before—came rushing back.
Enzo. The party. The awful dress. The way he’d grabbed her, hurt her. The videos. And then… Max.
Her chest tightened as the memories sharpened, vivid and raw. She’d run from Enzo, desperate and terrified, and gone straight to Max. And now, somehow, she was in his house.
Her gaze darted around the room again, taking in the unfamiliar luxury. The sunshine filtering through the curtains suggested it was going to be a rare bright morning in Seattle, but the warmth of the light felt at odds with the turmoil still churning in her head.
Looking down, she noticed she was still in her cotton panties and a tee-shirt.
Her face flushed as she pulled the covers up over herself, instinctively knowing that the tee-shirt was Max’s.
The stupid pink dress was nowhere to be seen, and relief washed over her.
She remembered stripping it off in a haze of exhaustion, too tired to care where it landed.
She hadn’t been able to sleep in it—wouldn’t have been able to.
She’d been so grateful when a servant had knocked softly on the door to offer her a soft, white tee-shirt.
She wanted to burn that dress. Shred it. She wanted to rub it in dirt, toss it into a fire, and scatter the ashes. Or better yet, feed it to pigs. But then her practical side kicked in. No, that would poison the pigs, she thought wryly.
Her lips twitched at the absurdity of her thoughts, but the fleeting humor quickly faded. The weight of reality settled over her, and she tightened the blanket around herself as if it could shield her from the storm waiting outside this lemon-yellow sanctuary.
What now? she wondered. She was in Max’s house. But what did that mean? What had she done by coming here? And what was she going to do next?
Right now, she needed a shower. Lexie pushed away the thick comforter and silky sheets and climbed out of bed. Her bare feet sank into the thick plush rug. Padding silently across the room, she opened a door and stepped into the adjoining bathroom.
The sight took her breath away. The room was pristine, designed like something out of a high-end spa.
Black and white marble gleamed under the soft glow of recessed lighting, accented with touches of lemon yellow that mirrored the bedroom.
The air smelled faintly of eucalyptus, and the space exuded calm and sophistication.
The shower utterly delighted her. It was enormous—larger than her entire bedroom back home—with sleek glass doors and multiple showerheads positioned at different angles. A panel with a dazzling array of knobs and buttons was on the wall, making her think of the controls for a spaceship.
Lexie stood there for a moment, a little intimidated. How does this even work? she wondered, biting her lip. After a few failed attempts that involved cold sprays from unexpected angles, she was finally rewarded with a rush of warm water from the overhead rain showerhead.
Stepping under the stream, she let out a long, relieved sigh as the heat and steam enveloped her.
The water cascaded over her sore muscles, washing away the tension of the past day.
For a moment, she closed her eyes and let herself breathe, focusing on the simple sensation of warmth and cleanliness.
Yesterday was a disaster, she thought, her jaw tightening as memories of Enzo and the pink dress flashed through her mind.
But today, she would take back control. She had to.
Maybe Max could suggest a hacker, someone who could retrieve the videos and free her from this nightmare.
Enzo wasn’t going to destroy her life. She wouldn’t let him.
Lexie shut off the shower and stepped onto the heated marble floor. Wrapping herself in a thick, impossibly soft towel, she dried off and used a smaller one to twist her damp hair into a turban.
Hanging on a hook near the door was a robe—plush, white, and thankfully normal-sized.
Lexie slipped it on, cinching the belt tightly around her waist as a small smile curved her lips.
She’d half-expected to find one of Max’s robes hanging there, and the thought of wrapping herself in something so oversized made her chuckle.
Max was six-foot-four and built like a Greek god, all rippling muscles and broad shoulders.
By comparison, her shorter frame would be swallowed up in the sheer volume of fabric.
She couldn’t help but picture herself trailing behind him in a robe with sleeves hanging well past her hands, like a child playing dress-up.
The smile faded as reality crept back in, her mind drifting to the man himself. Max. She couldn’t avoid him forever. She needed his help, but the idea of facing him again—his intensity, his commanding presence—made her stomach flip.
Lexie straightened, brushing off the nerves. You’re not a coward, she reminded herself. Today was a new day, and she was going to face it head-on. For now, she was clean, warm, and wrapped in comfort. One step at a time.
Lexie wandered out of the bathroom as she dried her damp hair.
Her thoughts drifted to the possibility of keeping the robe on for the drive home—if Max would let her.
Then reality struck her. Her car wasn’t here.
It was still parked at the building where he used to live.
And she wasn’t even sure where she was since someone had driven her here last night.
She’d been too exhausted and terrified to pay attention to where the driver was taking her, which was monumentally stupid, now that she thought about it.
Crossing the room, she went to the window, scanning the scene outside.
All she could see were trees stretching endlessly under the golden morning sunshine.
There were no landmarks, no neighbors, nothing but an expanse of nature.
I could be anywhere, Lexie thought, her stomach tightening at the realization.
Her gaze moved to the bed. On it were neatly folded clothes: a pair of jeans, a flowy silk top with a ruffled hem, and kitten-heeled sandals.
Lexie frowned, her brow furrowing as she approached.
Everything was her size. She ran her fingers over the delicate fabric of the top, noting its high quality, and eyed the shoes—stylish but practical enough to walk in.
She noticed the bed had been remade, and the curtains had already been drawn back before she’d gotten to them. Someone had been in the room while she’d been in the shower. The thought sent a chill skittering down her spine, but she shook it off. You’re leaving soon anyway, she told herself.
Focusing on the clothes, Lexie decided it would be better to get dressed quickly and figure out her next steps afterward.
She reached for the folded items and paused when she noticed the lingerie—risqué lace that was definitely not her usual style.
Her face flushed as she held up the delicate pieces.
Compared to her serviceable cotton panties, these were pure seduction.
Her initial instinct was to leave them untouched, but her cotton panties were still unwashed, and she didn’t have much of a choice.
With a resigned sigh, she slid on the lace, feeling the unfamiliar texture against her skin.
It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was certainly different—sensuous in a way that made her feel more aware of herself.
She pushed that thought aside, grabbing the jeans and pulling them on.
They hugged her hips and thighs like a glove, fitting like they’d been tailored for her.
The top was loose and airy, a nice contrast to the snug denim, and she found herself smiling as she admired the way it flowed when she moved.
“Nice,” she whispered, looking down at herself before slipping on the heeled sandals.
To her surprise, they were more comfortable than they looked, the fit perfect, as though someone had carefully selected every detail with her in mind.
Lexie glanced at the mirror but decided against looking at her reflection.
She didn’t have makeup but paused to brush her teeth.
She pinched her cheeks lightly to add a bit more color, grimacing at the bruise on her cheek.
There wasn’t a hairbrush, so she ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it out as best she could, and turned toward the door.
Where’s my purse? The thought hit her suddenly, and her steps faltered.
She remembered having it at some point last night, but everything after Enzo and the car ride was a blur.
Had she dropped it? Was it still in Enzo’s car?
No, she’d gotten into the house, hadn’t she?
And she’d had her keys… so the purse must have been with her then.
Her head spun at the growing list of issues she needed to address. Enzo, the videos, her car, her purse—each issue seemed bigger than the last, and the weight of it all pressed heavily on her shoulders. But she couldn’t let herself get overwhelmed.
“One step at a time,” she murmured under her breath, squaring her shoulders as she reached for the doorknob. It was time to face whatever came next.