Betrayed by Truths (Truth or Lies 2)

“Mr. Wallace has requested all of your presence in his VIP room. When you are ready, I can escort you.”

I take a deep breath as the yacht starts moving. It’s so slow it shouldn’t affect me, but it does. My stomach immediately churns, threatening to throw up. I try downing the scotch in my hand, but once the liquid is in my belly I realize it won’t help. My stomach keeps churning with the gentle rocking of the ship.

“If you could show me to the restroom first, I would appreciate it; then I’ll be ready to go to the VIP room,” I answer.

“Of course, right this way Miss Miller.”

I hand him my empty glass and follow, forgetting all about Liesel and Enzo.

He leads me to a private section of the boat, then opens the door to the restroom.

“I’ll get you another drink,” he says with a small smile. “You can head through that door if I haven’t returned by the time you are finished.” He nods in the direction of a door at the end of the hallway.

I wince, trying to keep myself together.

“Thank you,” I mumble and duck inside. I slam the door shut and lean against it just before I fall apart.

The panic attack has me in full swing. My body trembles against the door, my stomach heaves, and I know I’m seconds away from throwing up everything inside, my body twisting in torture.

I feel the ice cold shiver in my spine pulling me to shut down. Shut it all down. It’s the only way to save myself.

A tear falls down my cheek. I’m stronger than this. I have to be. If I shut down, there is no guarantee I will be able to leave this bathroom. I’ll fail without even really trying.

I can’t.

My breathing is fast and uncontrollable, but even so, I can’t get enough air in my lungs. My head is pounding. And then my stomach wretches.

I run to the toilet and vomit.

Everything comes up until my stomach has emptied.

I hear a knock on the door.

Shit. The staff member. Why didn’t I get his name?

“I’m fine,” I shout, hoping that’s enough to get him to leave.

And then I vomit again. I grip the toilet, hating that even though I’m wearing one of the most beautiful dresses, I’m sick.

Please don’t let me get anything on the dress.

The door opens, and my panic rises to a new level.

No one can see me like this.

And then I see the dark eyes of a man who’s seen me come numerous times now. A man I’m far too intimate with. A man I’m pissed at.

“Just leave. You win. I won’t be able to leave this bathroom until we stop moving,” I say.

Enzo shuts the door behind him.

“I’m not winning like this.”

I sigh. But then I can’t think because I’m dry heaving over the toilet.

When my stomach seems to stop, Enzo holds out his hand, and I take it until I’m standing up.

“Here,” he says holding out his own scotch to me.