“How long?” When he looks at me, confused, I add on, “How long did you stay with me?”
He checks the time on his watch. “A little over four hours.”
My heart skips a beat. Dark Rico intimidates me, but knowing he stayed with me for four hours exposes a side to him I don’t think many people have witnessed: the light side.
“Why does this feel so familiar?”
He smiles a vain grin. “Because it is,” he replies before tugging on a strand of my hair.
Although hazy, the faintest memory creeps into my mind from his playfulness. . .
My heavy eyelids slowly flutter open before drifting around the opulent room to absorb the rich antique furniture and beautiful chandelier hanging from the ceiling rose. My observant gaze has me stumbling onto an even more beautiful sight: a pair of dark and alluring eyes.
“I fell asleep again, didn’t I?” My voice is hoarse and my words lazy.
The corners of Rico’s lips tug into a grin as he nods. "Only for twenty minutes this time," he replies, pulling a strand of my hair playfully.
While stretching leisurely, a glimmer of light captures my attention. Smiling, I lower my left hand and inspect my newly added accessory: a ruby and diamond platinum wedding band.
“It’s so beautiful.”
Rico props himself onto his elbow and peers down into my light green eyes. “Not as beautiful as you.”
Even with a broad smile stretched across my face, I can’t stifle a big yawn. I'm exhausted.
“Sleep if you're tired, Kitten.” Rico runs his hand down the side of my face. “I'll be here when you wake. . .”
I prop my elbow onto the satin pillowcase and rest my weighted head onto my open palm. “Did you sleep at all the night we got married?”
Rico smiles a similar grin to the one in my memory before shaking his head.
“Why not?” I grimace when my overly girly voice bounces around the quiet room.
“Because I didn’t want to wake up to find out it was all a dream.” His voice so faint, I barely heard what he said.
Heat expands across my chest, filling some of the cracks that formed in my heart the past week. I want to say something to ease the confused look on Rico’s face, but I can’t think of a single phrase that would be appropriate in this situation. It's so… odd. Although the man before me is technically a stranger, he also seems so familiar.Is that even possible?
“Other than the snippets of memories you unearthed tonight, how many others have you had?” He tries to hold in the eagerness of his words. He fails.
I slip my hand under the satin pillow and rest my inflamed cheek on the cool softness. “None.”
I’d like to elaborate on my response, but there's no need. Everything was said with that one little word.
“Why don’t I have any memories?”
In less than a nanosecond, the smile on Rico's face vanishes, and a new expression settles in its place. It's the same unapproachable look he was wearing when deciding Timothy's fate.
“Because Timothy gave you a drug known on the black market as ‘club drug.’ Due to its strong amnesia-based product, most victims have limited recollection of their assault.”
My brows furrow. “If he was planning to kill me, why would it matter if I had any memories?”
"The drug isn't just used as a date rape drug; it’s also used as a party drug. Rohypnol is regularly taken by teens to get high. To some individuals, it has the same effect as heroin or cocaine. It's the reason you were more. . .carefreethe weekend we married. Your insecurities vanished.”
His words are informative and clear, until the end. His last two sentences come out heavily laced with confusion.
“Can you see a difference between the Blaire you met last week and the one before you now?”
His tongue delves out to replenish his lips before he murmurs, “No. But it’s not a drug steering your decisions now. It’s fear.”
