HARPER
I could barely keep up with what was happening. One moment, I heard that dangerously low voice filled with threats, the next I heard screams. People were shouting. Running. The music had stopped playing. While I lay on the floor, doing nothing.
When it felt like an eternity, I felt strong arms hooked around my legs, hoisting me from the ground. I sighed, burrowing into the warmth emitting from the stranger.
"Are you alright?" The stranger said in that voice that made my stomach flip. In a good way. Even in my foggy state, I couldn't understand why someone was making me have these weird feelings.
I opened my mouth to answer him, but I snapped it shut; instead, my eyes grew dimmer. And the last thing I saw was the stranger's face daringly close to mine. Handsome. Familiar. But barely recognising him.
—
I groaned, twisting and turning in my bed. My head pounded, and every part of my body was too heavy for me to lift. I swallowed, wincing at the bitter taste at the back of my throat.
My lashes fluttered against my cheeks, and for a few seconds, I stared at the intricately designed tray ceiling. Painted gold and white. The chandelier was too bright for my eyes, and I just had enough time to snap them shut as my stomach clenched and vomit surged up my throat.
I tried to push it down. I awfully did. But it was futile. I shot out of bed, darting around the unfamiliar corner towards the bathroom. Luckily, I found the door, pushed it open, and opened the toilet's lid in time to retch inside.
The memory of all that happened last night chose the opportunity to flood my head. Nico Faletri. The nightclub. Those bastards who had tried to take advantage of me. And oh god, Clara. I let out a shuddering breath, my body shaking, and I gripped my stomach as it turned.
Was this how people felt when they were hungover? This miserable? Yet, they kept drinking. It made no fucking sense!
"What were you thinking of?" A gruff voice said. Utterly familiar. In my dazed state, I turned my head slowly to the door to see him, leaning against the doorframe, casually with his hands tucked into his pocket and hair in disarray.
Dominic Fletcher. What the hell was he doing here?
He closed the distance between us in three strides, squatted behind me, and lifted my hair out of my face, using a scrunchie to hold it in place.
God. How can someone smell this good? Not even Owen. Or any man I had met with smelt as good as this.
I shivered as his hand lingered on my neck, brushing gently while I stared at him. Then my eyes zeroed in on his lips. That sinful plumpiness. How would it feel if he kissed me this instant? Their softness. Their warmth. I remembered all too well.
Heat rushed into my cheeks, my neck, and every part of my body. I groaned inwardly as I felt an odd pressure between my legs. I shut my eyes, shaking my head. I blamed the alcohol in my system. There was no way I was fantasizing about my ex's uncle.
Absolutely, no way!
"Accepting an offer from the devil." Dominic's hot breath fanned my neck. The spicy aroma of whisky wafted into my nose, and my nostrils flared. I leaned into him, taking in all his delicious goodness.
What the hell was wrong with me? Focus Harper.
You're hungover. This should be one of the symptoms, I believe so. Yet, the need stirred inside of me…I couldn't understand it. It wasn't there before his arrival. In fact, my head should be pounding, my body achy, and nauseated. All disappeared as soon as he came.
Was he a natural remedy for things like this?
I snorted, rolling my eyes inwardly. I winced, feeling a sharp pain in my head. Great! The pain was still there. And the problem was me. And Dominic, who was standing behind me.
"You didn't answer my question," Dominic said. "Did you intend to make my nephew jealous by going to Nico?"
"Oh, please. Don't give your nephew that much credit." I muttered. Why the hell did he have to bring up that bastard?
"And what are you doing here? I don't remember you living in here." I said.
Dominic's lips curved up in a smile, and I thought of a thousand places those lips could be to give the utmost pleasure. He rose to his feet. He was ridiculously tall, and to be honest? The perfect height for a man like him.
"Look around you, love," he said in a low voice.
I looked around me, then back at him.
"What do you see?" He raised a brow.
"What?" I questioned.
"I'll save you the time and tell you because you're obviously still intoxicated." He paused, his eyes sweeping me from my head downward and back up again. I flushed under his scrutiny, and I tightened the rope of my robe as if he could suddenly strip me naked with his eyes.
"You're in my house, darling."
"Your house?" I jumped to my feet, my head reeling at the suddenness, and I held onto the cistern to steady myself. My eyes widened as I took a good look at my environment. Everything in here was different from what I had in my bathroom! From the toilet to the bathtub, even the shower.
Not at all. I had no shower. Just a small bathtub to fit my body in, a toilet, a washbasin, and a mirror! Everything in here was black down to the marbles, except for the toilet and bathtub. At the same time, my bathroom was done in all pink colour. Not my choice of colour. Camilla's. As soon as we turned eighteen, she got a better and bigger room, whereas I was moved into her old room. But that wasn't even the point here.
How the hell did I get here? Oh wait. The stranger…I turned to Dominic, blinking rapidly as I pointed to him. "Y—you saved me?"
Dominic shrugged. "What can I say? I have a soft spot for damsels in distress."
I blushed. No. That shouldn't sound hot. Unfortunately, it did. And I couldn't help the way my heart fluttered wildly.
What the hell do I do? How do I keep encountering Dominic Fletcher? It was my fault. If I hadn't kissed him, he wouldn't be anywhere in my personal space. I should thank him for the two times he had saved me, apologize for what I did at the party, and promise to return his jacket to him after washing. Then, I'd run as soon as I was done to keep the rest of my dignity.
My mouth opened to say something, but a voice broke in. Sharp, urgent, and far too familiar.
"Uncle Dominic! I know you're here. I need to speak to you!"
The sound slammed into me like a jolt of cold water.
"Owen?!" I hissed, spinning toward the door just as a heavy knock rattled through it.