The Billionaires Sub (7 page)

Not this time. This time, I was aware of waking up, of the slow returning of my senses. I was aware of trying to move, but not being able to. My eyelids felt heavy and I strained to open them.

My brain felt fuzzy, but it was functioning well enough for me to realize that something was wrong.

I wasn’t home. I knew that much.

It didn’t smell like home. Like Mom’s cooking and motor oil. The grease from car parts that would inevitably find their way to our kitchen table, no matter how many times Mom yelled.

It didn’t sound like home. Like my brother and sister-in-law coming from next door to ask for some sugar or bread, or whatever else they’d forgotten to get at the store. The banging and noises from the garage as Dad or RJ worked on a car.

No, I wasn’t home and I wasn’t in Juliette’s apartment either. Some awareness came, and I realized I was in a bed. But it wasn’t my bed. It was too soft, too big. In college, I’d had a single. Back home it was a twin. Even in the apartment where I’d only spent a couple nights so far, it was smaller than this. This was massive.

And while the sheets were cotton, even half-awake, I could tell they were expensive. Every inch of me could feel them sliding, caressing...

Shit.

The realization brought me suddenly awake all the way.

I was naked.

And in a strange bed.

What the
hell
happened to me last night?

I stared up at the ceiling, attempting to catch my breath and calm my racing heart. I wasn’t in pain, and I wasn’t tied up. I didn’t hear anyone else in the room with me. I slowly looked around and found that the room wasn’t as dark as I’d originally thought. There was a dim light coming through an open door. I could see enough to tell it was a bathroom. And it gave me enough light to see that I was the only one in the room.

I pushed myself up until I was sitting and held the blanket against my chest. I needed to figure out what was going on, but I knew I’d feel better doing that with clothes. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and waited to see if I was going to be sick. My stomach felt tender, like I’d already thrown up, but it didn’t seem to be protesting the movement.

I stood and felt a wave of dizziness. It passed quickly, and I headed for the bathroom. A towel hung next to the shower stall and when I touched it, it was damp. I ran a hand through my hair and it was damp as well.

Apparently, I’d already showered.

Or...I frowned. Was it a shower, or rain? I remembered rain. I’d been wet, cold. But I smelled shampoo that wasn’t mine.

Had someone given me a shower?

I looked at myself in the mirror, searching for any signs of an assault. My skin was free of bruises, and I didn’t feel like I’d had sex. I supposed it was possible I wouldn’t be able to tell, but it’d been long enough that I was sure any sort of sexual activity would’ve made me feel something.

So I hadn’t been assaulted, but I had been undressed, and apparently bathed. There was something I was missing. Something about last night. I just couldn’t remember what.

I remembered going to the club with Juliette, but even that was a bit fuzzy. And the rain, it was a feeling more than an accurate memory.

I walked back out of the bathroom and flipped on the light. I needed to find something to wear, and then I could figure out where I was and what had happened. As it turned out, I didn’t have to look far. A dress hung over the back of the chair next to the bed.

When I picked it up, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground. I pulled the dress on first, surprised to feel how well it fit. It wasn’t like I was a one-size-fits-all sort of person. Not a lot of women were over five and half feet, and had curves like mine. And this wasn’t one of those dresses that hung like a sack either. It offered support where I needed it and showed off my hips, but it wasn’t exactly sexy. If the circumstances had been different, it was something I would’ve enjoyed wearing in casual circumstances.

It wasn’t until I bent to pick up the paper that I saw a pair of black lace panties on the chair as well. They were also a perfect fit.

Somehow, that didn’t really make me feel any better.

I finally looked at the paper and found hand-writing I didn’t recognize. It was brief and unsigned.

Please join me in the sun room. Down the hallway to the left. I hope the dress fits.

At least my mysterious benefactor slash kidnapper was polite. I didn’t bother with shoes since the carpet was thick and soft. Besides, if I needed to make a quick getaway, I could run a lot faster in my bare feet than in heels. Even if I could find them.

I’d gone only a few steps down the hallway when I heard the faint strands of classical music. I followed the music into what I assumed was the sun room. When the figure standing at the window turned, I recognized him, and pieces of memory came rushing back.

Meeting Cross at the club.

Him offering to take me home.

Bits of a conversation I was hoping he’d forgotten.

“How are you feeling?” He gestured toward the couch.

I sat, but kept on the edge of the cushion, ready to move if he tried anything. All he did, however, was sit in a chair across from me, a concerned expression on his face.

“A bit foggy,” I admitted in answer to his question.

He nodded as if that was to be expected, and a bit of temper flared.

“I only had two shots of tequila,” I said. “I wasn’t drunk.”

“No, I didn’t think you were.”

His calm answer just pissed me off. He was acting like this was completely normal. It might’ve been for him, but this was an entirely new experience for me.

“Then would you like to explain to me why I just woke up in a strange bed, naked, and without an idea of how I got there?” My voice was tight, and I pressed my hands against my thighs to stop them from trembling.

“What do you remember from last night?” he asked, his voice still even.

I shrugged. “Being at the club. Seeing you. Taking a couple shots while my sister danced.”

Oh shit. Juliette.

“I need to call her.”

Cross held up his hand as I started to stand, and I automatically sat back down.

“It’s just past five in the morning. I’m sure your sister is still sleeping.”

Sam, I remembered suddenly. Juliette had gone to a hotel with some guy. She probably didn’t even know I wasn’t at the apartment.

“Please, Hanna, stick with me for a couple minutes.”

I looked back at Cross. His handsome face was sincere. He wasn’t trying to push me, and I didn’t feel threatened by him. I didn’t exactly feel comfortable at the moment, either, but it was a different sort of uncomfortable, one that I wasn’t entirely sure was bad.

“Do you remember anyone hanging around the bar when you were ordering your drinks?”

I frowned at him. “Why don’t you tell me why I woke up naked, and then you can ask me a question.”

“You threw up,” he said bluntly. “In the limo. Your dress was already soaked through.”

“So you just figured you’d take me home and strip me?” The question was meant to be harsh, but it came out softer. Vulnerable. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away, embarrassed.

“It wasn’t like that.” His voice was firm. “Look at me, Hanna.”

I did as he asked and found his gaze steady. Something twisted inside me.

“You passed out. Got sick. You were so cold you were shaking. I brought you back here, cleaned you up, and put you in bed. I sent your dress to the cleaners.” He smiled without humor. “Along with my jacket.”

Another memory came forward, him offering me his jacket in the back of the limo. His jacket and some water. He’d been kind.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Just send me the bill.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “I’m not concerned about that. I’m more concerned about you.”

Heat flooded me at the matter-of-fact way he said it. Like his attention should’ve been assumed.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Maybe I ordered a third or fourth shot last night, and I just don’t remember.” I stood. “I appreciate very much what you did for me, but I should be going. If Juliette gets back to the apartment and I’m not there, I’ll have hell to pay.”

“I don’t think that’s what happened.” He stood and took a step toward me.

I felt like I should back away, like I shouldn’t want him in my personal space, but I stayed where I was.

“You told me in the limo that you’d only had two drinks.”

“Maybe I was lying.”

He shook his head while still maintaining eye contact. “Trust me, Hanna, you weren’t exactly in a deceitful sort of mood.”

“Shit,” I muttered as I remembered some of the things I’d said.

He chuckled, but it wasn’t quite as warm as it had been last night when I’d made him laugh. Still, that dimple appeared.

“That’s a conversation for a different time.” He reached out and tucked a wild curl behind my ear. “I’d rather focus on why you were feeling so...open.”

“Alcohol can do that,” I said, wishing I wasn’t feeling the urge to lean into his hand.

“Does it do that to you often?” He dropped his hand.

I shook my head. “Not like that.” I furrowed my forehead. “I remember thinking that I should’ve just been a little buzzed, but that I felt a lot more...tipsy than usual.”

“Dammit,” he swore softly, but with enough emotion to make me blink in surprise.

“What’s wrong?”

He took a step back and ran his hand through his hair. I could sense tension coming off of him, but still didn’t understand what was going on. Whatever it was, it made him clench his jaw, pace back and forth a few times as if he was working to control his temper.

“We need to do a blood test,” he said suddenly.

“What?” I took a step back, putting out a hand to steady myself.

He looked at me, eyes stormy. “A blood test. I think you were drugged.”

Chapter Nine

How the hell could I have been drugged?

Going off to college, I’d received
the talk
from my parents. Not the one about sex, that’d come years before, but rather the one about parties, and drinking, and all of that. My parents and RJ had all reminded me to always get my own drink at a party, to never leave a drink unattended. They’d all been worried that I’d be slipped some date rape drug. I hadn’t done much in the way of partying, but I’d always been careful the few times I had gone out.

I’d fully intended to continue being careful while living in LA. And I’d thought I had been careful. I hadn’t gotten drinks from a stranger. I’d gotten a bottle of water and two shots. Two shots straight from the bartender.

What had happened?

I hadn’t realized I was hyperventilating until I felt Cross put his hand on my elbow and lead me back to the couch. He sat next to me, his voice low and soothing, telling me to take slow, deep breaths. His hand slid up and down my spine, but there was nothing sexual about his touch, only comfort.

When I could finally breathe normally again, he moved away so that he wasn’t touching me anymore. I almost asked him to move back. While I was done freaking out, having him nearby was...nice.

But there was one person I wanted more than him.

“I need to call my sister.”

This time, he nodded in agreement. “That’s probably a good idea.”

He leaned forward and picked up something I hadn’t seen before. He held it out and I recognized my purse. I took it and resisted the urge to look through it to make sure everything was there. Cross didn’t need to steal anything from me. Juliette had told me that Cross was rich. Like lighting cigars with hundred dollar bills rich. Not that he did that. Or maybe he did, I didn’t know. I didn’t know him.

I needed my sister.

I pulled out my phone and hit her number. Cross stood and walked back to the window. I felt a surge of gratitude for the relative privacy. He could’ve stepped out of the room to make certain he didn’t hear anything, but I didn’t want him to leave completely. He’d kept me safe.

Unless...

Even as the phone rang, I remembered taking the bottle of water from him. Could he had been the one who’d drugged me?

For a brief moment, panic went through me, but then I reminded myself that Cross hadn’t hurt me. And he’d been the one to suggest a blood test just now. If he’d wanted to play savior after drugging me, he wouldn’t have needed to make the suggestion.

Still, I’d feel better once I talked to Juliette.

“Hello?”

“Juliette, am I glad to–”

“It’s Emmalyn.”

I stopped, mid-sentence, and changed what I was saying. “Why do you have Juliette’s phone?”

“I’m at the apartment, and it was sitting on the counter. Is she with you?”

An icy hand closed around my heart. “What are you talking about?”

Emmalyn gave an exasperated sigh. “I had some things that needed Juliette’s signature, so I came here. I have an emergency key. Juliette isn’t here, but her phone was on the counter. You called, so I figured I’d waste less time asking you where she was. Except I just wasted a lot of time having to explain all of this to you.”