Dirty Aristocrat

‘Er … have I got anything to wear?’

‘Your clothes must be dry by now. I’ll go get them.’

‘Thank you, Ivan,’ I said, a small smile curving my lips.

‘Think nothing of it,’ he said and left.

I slipped out of bed. My legs felt weak and the ground was like a waterbed as I slowly dragged my feet to the bathroom. In the mirror I looked like something out of a horror movie. My

plait had come undone and my hair was all over the place. My eyes were bloodshot and my pupils were popping. There were dark circles under my eyes and my skin looked unnaturally white

and sickly.

Ugh. I shivered and turned away, but too fast. It made me feel dizzy. I gripped the sink and waited until my head felt normal again. Then I ran the shower and stood under it; the water

felt like heaven. I stood in the hot stream and tried to think straight.

But all I could think of was: Oh, damn! I pissed myself in his bed. The shame of it. Of all the people I wouldn’t have wanted to see me in such a humiliating situation, he was at the top

of the list.

Still, the hot shower made me feel more human and I consoled myself that I was drugged and not of sound mind. I came out of the shower, wrapped myself in a large towel, and went back

into the bedroom. I’ll just have to take it in my stride. I found my clothes on the bed and, once dressed, ventured outside into the corridor.

CHAPTER 12

Tawny Maxwell

I padded down a corridor with oversized modern art on the walls, not sure where I was going, but utterly unafraid of what I would find. I knew where I was and whom I was with.

The corridor opened out to a large living room with a high ceiling and light pouring in from tall windows. The décor was minimalistic with a spare color palette of white stone with black

accents, and a mixture of modern and mid-century pieces. It was a perfect man cave. It even had the black bear rug.

How strange though? I did not have even the faintest memory of any of this. Whatever drug they had administered to me, it was certainly powerful. I should ask Ivan what the doctor said,

if there would be any long-lasting side effects.

I walked through that space and found Ivan in a large, spotless, black and white kitchen, beating eggs. The radio was playing How Long Will I Love You and the air was scented with the

aroma of the brewing coffee.

He turned to look at me with a puckered brow. ‘Could you not find your shoes?’

‘I know where they are, but I’m a Southern girl. We like being barefoot. I used to walk to the store in my bare feet all summer long.’

He looked at me as if he didn’t quite know how to respond to that bit of unsolicited information. ‘Right.’ He paused and scratched his chin. ‘Well, there’s a hairdryer in the second

drawer to the left of the door in the bathroom.’

‘Thanks, but I usually just let my hair dry naturally.’

‘Fine.’ Again he seemed at a loss. He looked down at the bowl of eggs he had been beating when I came in. ‘I’m having eggs. You should have some too. You haven’t eaten anything since

breakfast yesterday, have you?’

I ran my tongue along the inside of my right cheek and winced. ‘I don’t think I’ll eat anything. I have sores on the inside of my mouth and my jaw hurts.’

He frowned. ‘Yes, you were grinding your teeth in your sleep. Want me to heat up some soup instead? I think there might be some cans somewhere around.’

‘No, I’ll just have coffee first and see how I feel after.’

He walked to the coffee machine and facing me asked, ‘Cappuccino, espresso, filter, latte?’

‘Filter, please.’

He put a mug into the slot and hit a button. Coffee splashed into the mug. ‘Milk, sugar?’

‘Milk and two sugars, please.’

I lifted myself onto one of the tall stools around the island and he placed a steaming mug in front of me. I smiled my thanks and, grasping the mug with both my hands, brought it to my

lips. I blew at the surface before taking a small sip. The fragrant heat travelled down my gullet, warming me.

‘Mmmm,’ I said.

He glanced at me, but did not say anything.

Quietly, I watched his strong, sure hands pour the beaten eggs into a pan greased with butter and scramble them slightly before scraping them onto two plates. He then buttered four

slices of toast, placed them on the sides of the plates and put one plate in front of me and one at the opposite side of the island.

‘Bon appétit,’ he said.

‘Same to you.’