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After signing the discharge papers, Nic took Lexie back to the mansion. She was out like a light. The housekeeper informed him that Blair had gone out with suitcase in tow and she didn’t know what time she would be back. Mrs. Rosario showed him to Lexie’s bedroom on the second floor. After helping him get Lexie settled on the bed and returning with some bottled water, the housekeeper left them with directions to dial her assigned number on the house phone should he need anything.
Nic’s phone rang. It was Theia.
“Is Her Highness alright? One of the bodyguards called me.” Nic reassured her that she was and that she just needed to sleep it off. “She must have forgotten her EpiPen in her rush to pack.” Blair had flown to San Francisco for the night and would be back tomorrow morning. Could Nic stay with Lexie in the meantime?
“I’ll take care of her,” he said gruffly, thinking about the early photo shoot for tomorrow. If she was still feeling poorly, he would just call his talent agent and reschedule it.
He walked towards the bed and frowned down at her still figure, unsettled by the fear he had felt in the ER. He settled on the couch by the window for the night.
* * *
Lexie woke up to deep darkness. She was disoriented for a few seconds before memories came crashing back. Acid backed up her throat as she recalled discovering the truth on the tabloid someone had left by her night table this morning.
PRINCESS IN TORRID AFFAIR WITH MARRIED SPORTSMAN WHILE WIFE IS PREGNANT!
She groped for her bedside lamp but was confused when it wasn’t on her right side as usual. A weak light clicked on, and she shielded her eyes from the sudden glare.
“I thought you’d never wake up. Must have drunk more than you can handle,” a sardonically amused voice came from a corner in the room. Peter was puffing on his cigarette languidly, his hair dulled to matte gold by the shadows.
Dimly, Lexie had visions of her raiding her brother’s wine cellar and drinking to drown out the pain of her discovery. Warring anguish, rage, and mortification came crashing down on her as she drank her way into oblivion, knowing that to prevent further scandal, she couldn’t even risk a confrontation with the source of her pain. Stefan had warned her against him when rumors had reached him about her burgeoning friendship with the yachtsman, but she denied any romantic interest in him. She continued seeing him though, behind her brother’s back, believing Peter’s lies that he was divorcing his heiress wife. That is, until the day the media broke the news about his wife’s pregnancy side by side the photo of her and Peter kissing on the deck of his yacht.
Intoxicated, she snuck out a car from the palace, not informing anyone of her intentions. She drove to the little harbor hotel where Peter was staying and where his yacht was anchored. Fueled by alcoholic bravado, she went up to his room to confront him, but before she could open her mouth, she passed out the minute he had opened the door.
“Why?” she asked dully, her head and heart heavy as she surfaced from her drunken stupor.
Peter shrugged. “Why not?” He blew out smoke. “It was meant to be a casual hook-up. I was waiting for you to put out.” His green eyes pinned her. “Maybe it’s time you did.” Peter had pounced on Lexie before she knew what he was planning. Kicking and screaming, she managed to block his advances at the beginning, but he was stronger. Biting his arm, he screamed in pain and let her go momentarily, but he grabbed her hair and hauled her back clumsily, making her lose her balance. Her left hand shot out to stop her fall, but it bore the full impact of her weight. An empty wine bottle by the night table provided her the weapon she needed as she picked it up with her uninjured hand and bashed it against his head, causing him to crumple to the floor.
“Lexie! Lexie!” A worried voice was calling out to her. Where was it coming from? Somebody was shaking her, and she tried to fend those hands off her shoulders. “Wake up, Lexie!”
She surfaced from her drug-induced torpor to see Nic’s face above her. His lips were drawn tight and she could see alarm and concern in the electric blue eyes.
“You’ve been dreaming,” he said, sitting beside her and brushing back sweat-dampened tendrils away from her face. “Have some water.”
