I like Sam, I do. At times I wish she weren’t my manager because I’d probably date her. She’s confident, feisty and sexy as hell. But she’s a valuable asset and she’s helping me make a name for 4225 West and that’s far more important.
The Vogue after party is in full effect when we arrive. How Sam scored us tickets to this event is beyond me, but I love it. Keeping with the façade, Valerie and I hit the dance floor. There’s an elite league of photographers allowed in so we are afforded some privacy at least.
I spin Valerie around and hold onto her hips while she grinds against me. It’s either flashbulbs or the strobe lights, either way I’m sure our pictures are being taken. This will appease everyone for a while until it’s time for both of us to move on.
I catch sight of Sam sitting at the bar. She’s not working the room trying to score us another deal or tour, she’s staring at me. It was probably a mistake, me flirting with her earlier, but she makes it so easy. She’s like putty in my hands.
Valerie turns in my arms. “I need a drink.”
I nod and place my hand on her waist as I guide her to the bar. She’s of age, I’m not, but I don’t get carded. Hell, I haven’t been carded since I arrived in Los Angeles. This place is a haven for turning a blind eye on underage drinking. I order her a martini and some whiskey for me. It blows my mind how I went from beer to hard liquor so quickly. The hard stuff numbs the pain and takes longer to wear off.
I hand Valerie her drink and notice a photographer getting close so I lean in and act like I’m telling her a secret. The flash goes off and now he’s moving on to his next pay dirt photograph.
Valerie leans into me and almost spills her drink. I rub my hand up and down her back. “Are you okay?”
Her head rests on my chest and barely moves. “I’m not feeling so great, Liam.”
I down the rest of my drink, placing it on the bar. Once I set her glass down I take her hand in mine and walk toward the exit. I’m hoping some fresh air will do her some good.
When we’re outside, I lean her up against the wall, but her head falls forward. “What the hell, Val?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sick, Liam.”
“Do you think someone spiked your drink?” I try to think of who would’ve had access, but the truth is, anyone. The bartender, the guy next to us where we were standing, hell even the waitress brushed up against us. The possibilities are endless.
She barely nods and it makes me want to go in there and punch the shit out of him. I know I have to take her home, but can’t just leave the party.
“I need to go tell Sam we’re leaving, but I’m not leaving you outside by yourself, can you walk back in with me?” Valerie stumbles two steps before falling into my arms. I’m more carrying her than she is walking at this point. As soon as we step inside, Harrison is at the bar, his lips attached to some blond.
“Hey man,” I say loudly enough to get his attention.
He turns and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. I have no idea who the chick is, but he’s digging her, so good for him.
“Val’s sick. I think that douche spiked her drink. I’m taking her home. Can you tell Sam what’s going on?”
“Yeah, no problem.” He slurs his words and turns his attention back to the blond. I eye her up and down and can’t really blame him.
I all but carry Valerie to a waiting limo. The driver hurries to the let us in. “Where to?” he asks. I give him directions to my place. There’s no way I’m letting her go home alone.
We arrive at the hotel where my penthouse is located. Sam found this place for me after my grandma died. It’s perfect for me. I don’t have to cook or do my own laundry and I have all the privacy I need. The security is also top notch.
I slide my keycard in and carry Valerie into the elevator. “I’m going to make you throw up when we get to my apartment. You need to get this shit out of your system.” She just nods. Her arms are limp around my neck. As soon as the door slides open I’m opening my door and rushing her to the bathroom. I set her down, helping her bend over.
“You have to stick your finger down your throat, Val.”
“I know, but leave please.”
“What?” I question.
“Leave me. I don’t want you to see me puke.”
It takes a moment for me to realize what she’s talking about, but when I do, I bolt out of the bathroom and turn on the stereo so I don’t have to hear her either. I don’t count the minutes while she’s in there, I just pace. Who the fuck spikes people’s drinks? Hollywood is a mecca for sex. Hell all you have to do is ask.
The bathroom door opens and I can already tell she’s better. There’s color in her cheeks and her eyes seem more focused.
“Better?”
“So much. Thank you for bringing me here.”