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Ella
I’ve blown it. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, and he did warn me but I went there, anyway. Maybe it’s because I was lulled into complacency by his easy manner and the champagne, but I forgot the one thing he told me not to do. I talked back.
Now it looks as if he’s going to punish me for my audacity and my knees shake as he growls, “Come here.”
My heart beats so fast I hope it gives out on me. In fact, that’s not such a bad idea. Maybe I can fake an illness or something because he has a murderous look in his eyes. Trying it out for good measure, I say faintly, “I don’t feel so good.”
“Come here.”
He repeats his sentence and I try to put one foot in front of the other and wobble precariously. It doesn’t help that I’m shit scared right now, and the heat from the fire is battling my nerves and raising the temperature inside me as I slowly move toward him.
He watches me the whole time, those dead, dark eyes stripping me bare, and I watch as he devours my body with that look alone. The fact I’m naked under this dress isn’t helping much because I feel so exposed as I cross the room.
The fact I’m such a klutz doesn’t help either because as my heel gets caught in the hem of the dress, I am horrified to hear a ripping noise and as if in slow motion, my knees give way and I find myself heading straight for the floor. I cry out in alarm, but that’s the last sound I hear as a sharp pain strikes me on the side of my head and then the world turns black.
* * *
My head hurtsand I hear voices talking so loudly, it’s almost as if they’re shouting and I groan.
“She’s coming round.”
“Thank God for that.”
I recognize Lucas, but the other voice is new to me and I struggle to open my eyes.
It all appears blurry and then a white light hits my eyes and I moan, snapping them shut.
“Ella, what day is it?”
“Judgment day.” I groan and I swear Lucas laughs.
“Tell me what day of the week it is.”
“Friday, I think.”
To be honest, it could be any day of the week for all I know and the voice sounds worried. “Then where are you?”
I obviously got question one wrong, judging by the tone of his voice.
“I’m in prison.”
Again, I swear I hear Lucas laugh and the other voice sounds annoyed.
“What’s your name?”
“Idiot.”
“She’s fine doctor, can’t you tell.”
“I can tell nothing, she sounds delirious.”
I stifle a giggle and it hurts and I wince as I touch my hand to the throbbing feeling on my head.
“Can I have an Advil please?”
“Then tell me your name.”
Feeling resigned to playing the good patient, I say softly, “My name is Ella Quinn. I’m in Vegas as a guest of Lucas Emiliano, although his hosting skills leave a lot to be desired. I obviously can’t walk in heels and apparently, I need to work on that, although I’m not sure why. I am now officially the clumsiest person in the world, and I’m starving. Can I have the Advil now please?”
