Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“No, it’s fine.” I smile, waving him off. I feel bad that he went to get me a drink, and I’m complaining about it. I take another sip. It’s actually not too bad the second time, so it must’ve been me. “It’s actually not too bad,” I tell him, “once you get used to it.”
He sips his own drink, trying it again. “Yeah”—he smiles at me over the rim of his glass—“I think you’re right.”
I take another sip and hold the glass to my chest. “So, I know you’re working, but are you going to bid on anything?”
He shakes his head, an uncomfortable smile on his face. “No…I think the items are going to be a bit out of my price range.”
“Mine, too,” I tell him, and his smile relaxes. “But my dad asked me to put a bid in for him. My choice.”
“Spending the ’rent’s money. Always a bonus.” He chuckles.
I laugh, too, but I don’t actually agree with the statement. I hate spending my dad’s money. I hate that I still owe him so much money. I’m only comfortable doing this because I’m buying this for him. I wouldn’t be comfortable with taking his money and buying something for myself.
“Have you had a look at the auction items yet?”
I shake my head, having another sip of my drink.
“You want to look around with me?” he asks. “I can check out the bid lists while you browse the items.”
“Okay.” I smile. “But you have to promise one thing.”
He gives me a speculative look. “What’s that?”
“Keep my bid out of your story.”
He gives me a mock-affronted look, pressing his hand to his chest. “As if I’d put you in my story. We’re friends…right?”
“Right.” I smile at him before having another sip of my drink.
Leo has just wandered off to go chat with a friend he just spotted. I’ve put a bid in for my dad on a Yankees shirt signed by the whole team. My dad might be football for life, but he’s also a Yankees fan.
I’m leaning against the wall, people-watching, holding my half-drunk, now-warm glass of Coke.
I get my cell from my purse to check the scores again. It’s thirty-eight to seven. Only ten minutes left…meaning another victory.
Go, baby!
I slip my cell back in my purse, knowing how happy Ares is going to be with this win.
Then, I feel myself sway.
I press a hand to the wall, steadying myself. I lift my eyes out to the room, and my vision goes hazy.
I don’t feel right.
I hope I’m not coming down with something.
I move away from the wall and wobble unsteadily, making my way to the restroom.
The stalls are empty. I put my purse and glass down on the counter by the sink and feel my body sway again, my head feeling light. I grip the edge.
Something’s not right.
I stare down at my glass of Coke.
It doesn’t have alcohol in it…does it? Surely not.
Leo knows I can’t drink.
I pick the glass up with one hand, holding steady on the counter with the other. I hold the glass to my nose, sniffing the Coke.
No, definitely no alcohol in there. I’d know.
I put the glass down with a harsh clang, like I don’t have proper control over my hand. I stare at my hand, and there’s a tremor to it. I look up at myself in the mirror. My eyes are hazy, and my pupils are dilated, like I’m drunk.
God, no.
I turn on the faucet. Cupping my hands under the water, I lean forward to splash water on my face, but I stumble and bang my elbow on the sink.
“Fuck…” My word comes out slurred.
I sound drunk.
What is happening to me right now?
I grab my purse and stumble out of the restroom. I hold the wall as I walk for support, getting looks from people passing me on the way to the restroom.
I’m starting to panic.
I don’t know what’s happening.
Should I look for Leo? He might be able to help me.
I stumble back into the room, looking for him, but my eyes can’t focus properly.
Shit.
I’m scared. I don’t know what’s happening to me.
Ares. I want Ares.
What am I going to do?
Home. I need to go home.
I turn too fast and stumble into someone.
The guy catches me by the waist, steadying me. “Whoa there.” He chuckles. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry,” I mumble out, my words slurring.
I stagger past him, needing to get out of here. I somehow make my way through the event room and out into the lobby of the hotel.
I trip my way through the lobby. I can feel eyes on me.
Fuck.
Tears sting my eyes.
I make it out of the hotel, the doorman holding the door for me.
“Night, ma’am,” he says but stops with a look of concern on his face. “Are you okay?”
“Need a taxi,” I manage to get out, my voice all over the place.