Page 3 of Out of Place

“Yeah, good for her,” Rhett says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. If I could keep my eyes open, I’m sure I would’ve seen him roll his eyes. “Such a great best friend that she just left you passed out on a bar to go fuck a stranger.”

“Shut uuuup Rhett. God, you are such a loser,” I whine.

He pulls my arm through the crowd. “And you’re such a spoiled brat.”

I give in, letting him pull me out of the club and into a car waiting for us. We slide into the back seat, leaving a good distance between us.

We’re both pissed. He’s mad because he had to come get me, and I’m mad because he came and got me.

“How did you know where I was?” I ask after a few minutes of tense silence.

“Great story. I’m glad you asked.” He hands me my phone. How did he get my phone? “You left your phone in the bathroom. I’m your emergency contact, so some random girl called and said she found your phone. Figured you’d be nearby.”

I roll my eyes, face the window, and watch the buildings pass us. The streets are still busy even though it’s so early. This is the city that never sleeps, after all.

Rhett and I don’t say a word for the rest of the trip back to my parents’ penthouse, where I stay when I’m in the city, which is more often than not these days. It gets me away from my parents and usually from Rhett since he has his own place. Unfortunately for me, he still found a way to get to me tonight.

Rhett keeps a tight grip on my arm as he walks me through the lobby to the elevator. The movement of the elevator makes my stomach churn, but I hold it down.

He walks me to my room like I’m a child and tosses me on the bed. “Try to sleep on your side so you don’t choke on your vomit.”

And then he turns and leaves. I hear the front door slam, and I know I’m alone.

I flop down on my bed, still in my silver sequined dress, and pass the fuck out.

CHAPTER 2

Olivia

“Olivia.” Someone shakes me. “Olivia.”

“What?” I groan into my pillow.

“Get up. We need to talk to you.” It takes me a second, but I recognize that voice. Helena Sterling. Former beauty pageant queen, wife of department store tycoon Jameson Sterling. And my mother.

I groan again, refusing to open my eyes yet. I’m actually not sure I can open my eyes right now. There’s a deep throbbing in my head, and my mouth feels like the Sahara desert.

“Olivia, get out of bed. Now. Your father and I need to talk to you in the living room.”

I finally roll over as she’s walking out the door. I reach for my bedside table and am disappointed when I find there’s no water. If she was going to wake me up, the least she could’ve done was bring me some water.

Slowly, so very slowly, I sit up, careful not to agitate my headache too much. Looking down, I see that I’m still in my clothes from last night, and I can safely assume I didn’t take my makeup off either. I don’t bother looking in the mirror.

I shimmy out of my dress that reeks of alcohol and put on my bathrobe before walking to the living room.

My father is standing in his suit with his arms crossed over his chest. My mother stands next to him in her perfect navy blue dress, not a hair out of place. They both look too perfect for this early in the morning.

I ignore them and go to the kitchen for a glass of water and ibuprofen. They watch me the whole time and don’t say a word until I turn around. I give them my full attention or as much as they’re going to get this freaking early.

“What’s so important you had to wake me up for?” I ask, swallowing down the pills.

“Olivia, it’s after noon, and you’re still in bed,” my father informs me.

“So?” I ask nonchalantly. It’s not like I have anything to do today. I’m a night owl anyway.

“Look at you, Olivia. You’ve got makeup running down your face, your hair looks like an animal is living inside of it, and you clearly slept in your clothes,” my mother says, her voice betraying a rare show of emotion.

“Where were you last night, Olivia?” Dad asks.