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“No,” Tristan said. “I’ve got this.”
“But…” Angelina sputtered. “You can’t bail on me now. This is an important moment. You know how long I’ve been working on this event. I promised the reporters a story. It will encourage other wealthy patrons to donate.”
“You’ll have to talk to the reporters. Excuse us.” Tristan helped Lillian to her feet and half-carried, half-dragged her to the door. He paused and turned back to Angelina. “Could you flush the toilet?”
If she didn’t feel so lousy, Lillian might have laughed at the strangled sound Angelina made at this request.
Tristan somehow got her out of the party center without too much fanfare and settled her in the passenger seat of his car. The cool air outside of the building helped to restore some of her equilibrium. Guilt set in—she was supposed to be playacting as his date for the night and instead he was taking care of her…again…and now he had to leave the party early.
She huddled in her seat and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember how she had landed in this predicament. She didn’t remember drinking. She didn’t remember much of anything. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, which wasn’t her usual reaction to alcohol. It must be the unrelenting stress she’d been under over the past two days—begging a stranger to help her cure Hannah, saying goodbye to her family, watching out for Kinetica’s men, and now, witnessing Tristan’s feelings for Angelina first-hand. A girl could only take so much.
“Are you feeling any better?”
She cracked her eyes open to find Tristan had gotten in the driver’s seat and started the car. “A little.”
She no longer felt nauseous, thank God, but a languorous, sleepy feeling had taken root. She yearned for a bed and pillow and this nightmare of an evening to be over.
“Go to sleep then. I’ll have you home in no time.”
Home. How could a single word be so comforting and so alarming at the same time? If only she were home. But she couldn’t ever go back to her dad’s house with Kinetica still looking for her. And Tristan’s mansion was not home. No, home was an efficiency apartment in Boston, and even that had never felt like home.
The sound of the tires hitting the pavement and the wind resistance lulled her into a semi-conscious state. When she awoke, they were sitting in Tristan’s car, and he was staring at her with a strange expression on his face.
She blinked and moaned, covering her mouth, which tasted like moldy bread. “Where am I?”
“In my driveway. You don’t recognize it?”
Did she? She looked around, her mind a fog of confusion.
“How are you feeling?”
“I…my head hurts.”
“Why did you drink so much?”
“I…I don’t know.” Why didn’t she remember? She didn’t realize she was shaking until Tristan pulled her into his strong arms.
“Shh. It’s okay. You’ve been worried about Hannah, and it happens to the best of us. Besides, it was a convenient excuse for me to leave early.”
“Hannah?” She latched on to the single word. Had something happened to her sister? “I…I must go.”
“You’re not going anywhere in your condition except straight to bed.” He unlatched his seatbelt and came around to open her door. “C’mon, I’ll help you inside.”
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying you into the house.”
“The house? I don’t think…”
But it was too late—he’d reached inside the car and lifted her up and into his arms, with barely a ripple of muscles, placing her over his broad shoulder like a large sack of potatoes. “I’m getting you inside and into bed.”
She was too tired and disoriented to protest. Dimly, she was aware he entered the house and carried her up the stairs and laid her on the bed. He began taking off her shoes, first one, then the other.
Wasn’t there somewhere she was supposed to be? Her body felt thick and heavy, and it was too much effort to concentrate on the answer, so she closed her eyes and slept.
Tristan covered Lillian with warm blankets he found in the closet. He figured she needed sleep more than she needed to be out of her party clothes. That could wait until the morning.
For a while he studied her chest, which rose and fell, reassuring himself she still breathed. Why would a woman who was afraid for her life drink so much alcohol she passed out? It didn’t make sense. But then again, there were many facets to Lillian he didn’t understand.
