I came alive slowly to the pain in my head that felt like someone had struck me with a hammer several times.
The second I came to consciousness, a wave of nausea welled in the back of my throat, making me groan and clutch my stomach. I rolled onto my side and dragged in a shaky breath.
My tongue felt dry, my throat was worse, and for a terrifying second, I thought I was about to puke all over myself.
Finally, my eyes fluttered and opened to a white ceiling. My brain was fuzzy as I stared at the unfamiliar background.
Where was this place? I wondered quietly. Was I in a ward in the hospital? Did I get sick, too?
Oh God.
I could barely afford my mother's bills. If I were sick now, how would I pay for myself? They'd double the debt and dump my mom off life support before I even woke up.
Just the thought of that alone made me panic. I had to get off this bed.
I pushed myself up, wincing as pain shot through my skull. My neck hurt, my head was throbbing. I rubbed the back of my neck and massaged my temple, hoping the pain would ease, hoping my vision would stop being blurry.
I blinked several times, rubbing my eyes as I looked around.
Wait.
This wasn't a hospital.
There were no IV lines, no machines or beeping monitors, and this king-size bed with black sheets, which I was currently on, was definitely not a hospital bed.
The room was four times bigger than my studio apartment. It had white walls, a long velvet drape beside floor-to-ceiling windows. At the corner of the room was a minimalist desk and leather chairs, in the middle of the room, giving an illusion of a bedroom and a small sit-out area.
Everything in the room screamed money.
This was definitely not a hospital room.
So, where the hell was my mother?
My heart started racing, and I was about to jump off the bed when something caught my eye. I turned towards the movement, and I froze.
A tall silhouette stood by the window, watching me, and that was when everything came rushing back.
The text message, the makeover, Club 69, the vial and Hansel Ward.
Oh God. Hansel Ward.
I was supposed to drug him, take pictures and upload them on SnapShare, then get paid.
But why was I in his bed?
Wait. Did something else happen?
I remembered the way he'd grabbed my waist, the way his lips had crashed into mine, the way he'd kissed me like a man starved of oxygen and made me feel things I'd never felt before.
My eyes went wide. Slowly, I peeked under the blanket. I was naked, except for the oversized T-shirt I was wearing.
"Fuck," I whispered.
I slept with him. I slept with Hansel Ward. That wasn't part of the plan.
The silhouette pushed away from the window and walked over to the foot of the bed; his face had no expression, just a cold emptiness that made me sink deeper into the bed.
"So, tell me, Naya Rivers," he said quietly. "How does it feel to wake up in the home of the man you failed to murder?"
Murder?
"What?" My voice came out hoarse. "I didn't—I wasn't trying to murder you."
He scoffed, arching an eyebrow in my direction. "That's exactly what you said about the drink. And look what happened."
"I didn't know it was a sedative," I blurted. "Sedatives don't kill, you know."
"You think?" he scoffed, leaning down slightly. "You were at death's door. Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have survived?"
"Well, thank you for saving me, Mr Ward. I'll be on my way."
Why was he throwing a tantrum over a sedative that he didn't drink?
I pushed myself to the edge of the bed and was about to stand up when I remembered I was semi-naked. I sat back down, my face turning red with embarrassment.
"Where are my clothes?"
"Is that really what's important right now?" he crossed his arms, still looking at me with that empty gaze.
"Yes!" I barked, hugging the blanket tighter. Why was he acting offended when he was the one who slept with me? I didn't want to think about that now. "It's bad enough waking up like this, please don't make it worse."
"Really?" he gave a short laugh. "You tried to drug me, that's a criminal offence. Shouldn't you be more worried about going to jail?"
"I can't—" I pushed a hand through my hair, trying to control the sarcastic retort that was at the tip of my tongue. Was he a virgin? Did he want us to kiss and roll around in bed? "Listen, I don't have time for this. Can we do this another time? I need to leave, I need to go to the hospital."
"Why?"
I sucked in another angry breath. "My mother is there and I've been gone all night, she must be so worried—"
"You mean three days."
"Three days?" I repeated after him, frowning. "No, my mom has been there way…" I trailed off again as my gaze sought his, taking in his pointed stare.
"What did you just say?"
"You've been unconscious for three days," he said flatly.
Everything inside me stilled; it was as if my brain was trying to catch up with what he was saying.
Three days?
The deadline. The four-day deadline the hospital gave me. I'd missed it.
I sprang from the bed. "No—no, no, no—"
I nearly tripped over the sheet, trying to untangle myself from it. "The hospital—my mom—they said four days max or they'd take her off life support," I rambled off to him.
I finally succeeded in unwrapping myself from the sheets. Wait, today was the last day. If I went now, I could still beg them and ask for an extra twenty-four hours. I tossed the blanket aside and ran for the door.
As I reached the door and grabbed the handle, I paused and groaned. I couldn't go outside like this with only a shirt on and nothing underneath. I turned and ran back to Hansel.
"Please," I said breathlessly. "Can you lend me some clothes? A pair of pants or even a pair of jeans. I need to go to the hospital right now. I could have gone with my clothes, but they're party clothes. But I promise, I'll explain everything later."
He tilted his head. "You're not going anywhere."
"What?"
"The police are on their way," he said. "They'll take you in for questioning. You tried to poison me, remember?"
"I told you, I didn't know! I wasn't trying to kill you, and you said so just now that it was a sedative."
"It was more than that, Ms Rivers. If I had taken a sip of that drink, I would have died."
"But you didn't," I cried out. "Please, I don't have time for this," a tear rolled down my face. "This is a matter of life and death. My mom—if I don't get there no, she'll—"
I couldn't finish, I didn't want to say the words and jinx it. So I spun around the room, looking for something.
At the desk in the corner of the room was a notebook and a pen.
Quickly, I ran to it and tore out a sheet, scribbling on it as fast as I could. I wrote down my name, address, and phone number, then ran back to Hansel and shoved the paper at him.
"Here. My name, my address, my phone number. I'm not running away, I swear. But I need to go now. You can call the police and arrest me later. Just please, let me see my mother first."
He still had doubts in his eyes, leaving me with no other choice.
Without waiting for his response, I grabbed one of the sheets on the floor and ran back to the door, yanking it open. I took the stairs two at a time, holding on to the sheet for dear life and trying not to cry. Crying didn't solve problems; now more than ever, I had to be clear-headed.
As I ran, all I could think of was my mom. Alone and without me there. They couldn't have taken her off life support yet. It was still the fourth day. I still have time.
"Ms Rivers! Naya! Wait!"
Hansel's voice called from behind me.
I didn't stop or bother to look back. Why was he so persistent? Didn't he understand what was at stake? He shouldn't worry, I'd still be back and figure out a way to finish the mission and get that million dollars.
But right now, nothing mattered except my mom.
I hit the bottom of the stairs, ran past the living room, but just as I reached the foyer, hurrying to grab the front door, another voice called out to me.
"Naya…?"
I stopped running.
That voice, I knew that voice.
Slowly, I turned. Standing in the foyer, eyes wide with shock, was Caleb.
My ex-fiance. The man who'd left me to marry my stepsister. Who'd destroyed my life four days ago.
What was he doing here?
His eyes travelled down my body, taking in my clothing situation. I could see the judgment in his eyes, the flicker of disbelief.
"What the hell—" He started saying, when Hansel ran into the foyer holding a pair of trousers in his hand.
"At least put this on. Do you want to run around the city naked?"