My eyelids fluttered open and I was suddenly acutely aware of the intense throbbing in my head. I groaned out loud and rolled onto my back.
Alejandro was gone.
Oh, crap! I had asked him to fuck me. I had actually said those words out loud. I threw my hands over my face in shame. Not only had I propositioned him, but he had turned me down. I had been almost naked and literally offering myself on a plate and he’d said no.
Then another memory burrowed to the surface. One of my face pressed against his hard chest. Of his strong arms wrapped around me. Of a whispered promise that he would ruin me for any other man. My insides melted like warm butter at the thought.
I looked around the room. There was no trace of him. I hadn’t even felt him get out of bed. I wondered if he’d stayed the night, or had slipped away as soon as he was able to – leaving his drunken mess of a wife to sleep it off. Not that I could be blamed for getting a little drunk, surely? It wasn’t every day a crazed madman sticks a gun in your face.
I glanced at the bedside table and saw the glass of water placed on top of a sheet of notepaper. I leaned over and saw there were two Advil there too. I moved the glass and picked up the note, written on Alejandro’s personal stationery.
Drink this and take these. I’ll call you later, A x
I blinked back a tear. He’d signed it with a kiss. Somehow that note felt more intimate than anything that had ever passed between us before. Even when I’d had my semi-naked body pressed up against his, it had been about getting a need met. It hadn’t been about either of us caring about the other.
I picked up the glass and noticed the water was still cold. He must not have left that long ago and that realization made me smile.
I took hold of the the two pills and tossed them into my mouth before taking a large gulp of the cold liquid and laying back against the pillows.
The events of the previous night began replaying in my head. Who was that man in the restaurant, and why had he targeted me? He’d mentioned my father, but what the hell could that be about? My father was a politician, and I had no doubt he’d angered many people in his career – but enough for them to want to shoot his daughter in the middle of a crowded restaurant?
I was sure Alejandro would get to the bottom of it – it was what he did, after all. But whether he would tell me the truth about it, was another matter entirely.
