Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
It could’ve been a woman, I guess. Hair pulled back or something, but I can’t shake the feeling that it was a guy.
Unable to take it any longer, I decide I’d rather walk out of here a barefoot hot mess than wait to see who’s coming back for me. I’d been awake for less than ten minutes, so chances are, whoever is behind this could return any minute.
Before I can leave, a knock comes from the door and startles me.
I swallow, unable to move.
“Room service,” I hear a man shout with a rough voice from the other side.
Confused as hell, but also a little relieved it’s a staff member, I rush to the door and whip it open. A man in a tailored uniform pushes a tray inside and asks where I want it.
“I didn’t order any room service,” I tell him, wondering how crazy I’d sound if I told him this wasn’t even my room. I feel like I’m living in the Twilight Zone.
He pushes the cart in farther and places the tray on the end of the bed and then picks up a black server book. Opening it up, he lifts the receipt and reads it over aloud.
“Room 2509 at ten a.m.,” he reads. “Two eggs over-easy with a side of bacon.”
I shake my head, more confused than before. I need to get the hell out of here.
“Okay, thanks,” is all I can think of to say. He sets the book down and starts to head out.
“My pleasure. Make sure to eat that before it gets cold.” He smirks and for some reason it sends a chilling shiver down my spine.
How in the hell did I book a room and order room service all while being out cold? The answer is I didn’t.
I rush back to the phone and dial nine with the area code followed by Drew’s number. With every number I press, my hand shakes a little more. I’m relieved when he answers on the first ring.
“Courtney?”
“Oh my God!” I nearly cry. “Drew.”
“Sweetheart, where are you? Are you okay?” His voice is panicked and rushed.
“Yes, I-I think so. I’m in room 2509. Do you know why I’m here? Or how I got here?”
“I’ll explain everything when I get there. Don’t move. I’m coming.”
“Okay.”
I hang up and rub my hands up and down my arms. Needing to distract myself, I lift the silver lid from the platter on the tray. I gasp when I see what’s underneath it. The lid slips from my fingers and falls to the floor causing a loud metal clank to echo throughout the room.
I take a step closer and see the two eggs on top of the plate and a slice of bacon lined at the bottom, curved down into the shape of a frown. The eggs on top are the eyes and in the middle is a grape for the nose.
However, the breakfast made into a sad face isn’t the most disturbing part.
There’s red sauce dripping underneath the eggs as if the eyes are crying. It trails all the way down past the grape nose and to the corners of the bacon lips.
“What the hell?” I study it and wonder if this is supposed to be some kind of sick joke. Needing to cover it back up, I pick the lid back up, and that’s when I notice a white envelope taped inside.
I peel it off and see my name written across it. Courtney.
I knew this wasn’t just a coincidence.
My hands shake as I rip it open. Whoever put me in here wanted to make sure I saw this.
Inside is a white piece of paper and as soon as I flip it over, I see her handwriting.
Steal my man from me again and I’ll make sure those tears of blood are coming from your eyes instead. You’ve been warned.
I read it over twice just to make sure I read it correctly. Looking over my shoulder, I look around the room, consciously worried that she could be in here somewhere watching me. I need to get the hell out of here. I can’t wait for Drew anymore.
CHAPTER TWO
DREW
As soon as I step off the elevator, I see Courtney frantically running down the hall without any shoes on. “Thank God,” I mutter to myself.
I pick up my pace until she falls into my arms as tears stream down her face. Wrapping my arms around her and pulling her tight against my chest, I can feel her shaking. I pull back and look at her. “Court, are you okay? You’re not hurt?”
I search her face as her mouth falls open and closes again. Her lack of words begins to tear through me.
“Talk to me, please,” I whisper.
“I feel like I can’t breathe. I need air.” She’s having an anxiety attack and can’t calm down.
“Take a deep breath,” I tell her. “I’m here, sweetheart.”