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I quickly opened the first door I found. It was a bathroom. I hurried to the first stall, crouched down, and fumbled for my phone in my purse.
Moans were loud behind me, and I dared not look.
I tried Sophie, but her phone went instantly to voicemail.What now?
My stomach churned again, and my head felt like it was too big.Blech.My stomach gave again. I wiped my mouth with the napkin in my purse. I could hear my pulse in my ears, and I pressed the phone again to call Xander. It picked up, but all I could hear was the banging on the other side of the door.
“Xander. You have to help me. I’m at a sugar baby mixer, don’t judge me. I’m broke. I know, dumb. I’m sick …and …I’m scared. It’s at the Atrium Bar in Midtown. I’ve locked myself in a stall in a bathroom, but my tongue feels thick, and…I feel really hot. Too hot—”
“Atrium Bar in Midtown. Don’t you fucking move. I’m on my way,” a baritone voice growled out.
And even in my haze, my nerves spiked. “Xander?” But the phone call ended.
I closed my eyes and drifted.
Bam. Bam. Bam.“Nadia Sokol. Are you inside?” A woman’s voice called out, then barked, “Unlock the door.”
The door opened, and she said, “Fuck me. Go get a towel and get her one of the company shirts. Now.” She crouched down next to me. “Mr. Crane is on his way to collect you. He’ll have my license, ruin my reputation, and sue me into oblivion, so thanks for fucking over my life. What the hell did you take?” She patted my face hard. “Tell me, dammit.”
“Mr. Crane?” I mumbled. “I took an aspirin before I came here.”
“You’re lying,” she hissed. “Aspirin doesn’t do this. She vomited, so I don’t think we need an ambulance.”
A woman moved a towel down my face, dress, and hair as another woman tugged a black shirt over my sore head.
I pushed my hands through the sleeves and wobbled to my feet. “I’ll go home.”
The woman in a pantsuit let out a nasty laugh. “Too late for that. Why did you come here sick? You have to wait in my office. Your ride is coming.”
I stumbled behind her, and she opened an office door that said “manager.”. There, I sat on a chair as she paced.
I closed my eyes, and someone gently shook me. “Nadia, it’s Laurence. I’m taking you out of here now.” He picked me up like I weighed nothing.
“Through the back, to the alleyway,” the manager directed. She held the emergency door open, and I inhaled the cool air and sighed.
I could just make out Paul Crane’s menacing expression over Laurence’s large shoulder.
“Put Nadia in the car, Laurence. Rita, she’s going to get checked over, and if they find anything wrong with her, you’re finished.”
“She said she took aspirin at home, not here. Darian removed every trace of her from the website. We’ll review the cameras in the bar and send them to the police. I’ll personally pay for any hospital bills.”
“You will do a hell of a lot more than that,” Paul told her in a terse tone.
He climbed into the car and immediately palmed my forehead. “She’s burning up. Fuck. Tell Dr. Foster we’ll meet her at the clinic.”
“I’m just sick. Sorry, I didn’t know I called you,” I mumbled.
“What the hell were you doing at a prostitution party?” Paul barked in a sharp tone.
“You’re mad at me?”
“Perceptive. You actually thought it was a good idea to be passed around by those pathetic losers? You can’t be this astoundingly naïve. Did any of them touch you?” he snapped.
“No. I vomited on a guy’s shoes and ran to the bathroom.” Even in my sick head, I sounded pathetic.I called Xander. Didn’t I?What did I do?
I curled up in a ball on the seat and closed my eyes. Embarrassment didn’t cover all I felt with Paul. But I knew from his reaction he’d never speak with me again.
“Just drop me off at the dorms,” I choked out.
