and floor polish.
The world grew still and her mind slipped away. She gasped at the sound of another bell. “Shh. I
have you.”
She smiled and snuggled deeper into his hold. “Lucian . . .” If she was dreaming, she never wanted
to wake up.
Chapter 8
Take Two Doses of Reality and Call Me in the Morning . . .
Scout’s mind eased into consciousness and she winced, her entire body protesting as she stretched.
Her hands swept away a mass of knotted hair and she gripped her head. Who the hell was hammering
an ice pick in her temples? She moaned.
As her leg extended, something didn’t feel right. Her bed was way too soft and . . . big? She shot
bolt upright and winced, moaning again and the movement sent pain knifing up her spinal cord into
her brain. Her hands swatted at the rat’s nest that was her hair, and she opened her eyes. “Ohmygod.”
Her head snapped around as she recognized Lucian’s room, but she didn’t see Lucian. Glancing
down, she noticed she was stark naked. “Son of a bitch!”
She quickly crawled off the high bed made up like something from Arabian nights, and scrambled
to the edge. Her feet tangled in the ridiculous amount of heavy down blankets, and she reached too
soon for the table to catch her balance, missing completely and falling in a loud clatter to the floor.
Her bones radiated with pain and something was squeezing the life out of her head.
Rolling to her knees, she hissed, reminded of her scraped knee. Her arms batted at the offensive
blankets and cursed. She was a hot, tangled, mess.
“Evelyn?”
She stilled. Using her arm to lift the curtain of hair off her face, she slowly pushed into a seated
position and peeked over the tall bed. Lucian stood by the door, and when he spotted her he cursed and
charged in, likely to help her.
She threw out her hand. “Don’t come any closer.” He jerked to a stop. “I’m naked.”
He laughed. “I know. I undressed you.”
“What?”
“Evelyn . . . be reasonable.” He stepped into the room and she quickly gathered the myriad of
blankets around her, covering her woman parts. “Love, you were tanked last night. You barely moved
once we got to the hotel. You were helpless.”
“So you decided to take off my clothes?” she asked, outraged.
“I’ve seen it before.”
“Well, I didn’t invite you to see it again.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled down at her. His perfectly put-together appearance made
her feel insufficient. “I have a peace offering.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”
Reaching into his pocket he produced two small white pills. “Something for your head.”
He handed her the tablets and retrieved a glass of water from the nightstand. She swallowed them
down and guzzled the refreshing water until there was nothing left. Handing him back the glass, she
eyed him suspiciously. “Did we . . .”
He chuckled. “No. You were comatose.”
“What if I wasn’t?”
“As tempting as that is, the answer would still be no. You were drunk and I gave you my word.”
“Oh.” She sat back on her heels and considered how this made her feel. He hadn’t touched her.
Good. Right?
“You’re sober now, however,” he said teasingly.
She shoved off his legs and stood. “Forget it. Where’s my dress.”
“On the chair. I ordered breakfast.”
She hobbled to the chair and found her dress. Frowning at the minimal swatch of black fabric, she
hesitated. Her eyes glanced at the puffy down comforter wrapped around her. She looked like a Sumo
wrestler in a toga. Turning back to him, she asked, “Do you mind?”
He sighed and shook his head, but didn’t leave. Rather, he walked into the closet and she heard the
opening and shutting of drawers. He returned a moment later with a pair of her jeans, a T-shirt,
panties, and a bra. He handed them to her.
“These are mine.”
“Who else’s would they be?”
She blinked at the clothing. “But . . . I haven’t lived here for over two months.”
He drew in a slow breath and released it. “Evelyn, I did a lot of things wrong. I’ve apologized and
will continue to apologize, but I need you to believe that I never anticipated you’d be gone for good. I still don’t accept that as reality. You belong here. I’ll wait as long as I have to.”
“But you’re dating.”
He frowned and drew back his head. “No, I’m not. I attended a few events that required I bring a
guest. That’s all that was.”
She scoffed. “That’s not what the she-bitch on your arm last night said.”
“What did she say?”
Scout thought for a moment. Her memories were sketchy at best. “Well, she cornered me in the
bathroom and told me I looked like a hooker.”
His brows shot up. “She what?”
“Yeah. Nice company you keep.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry she spoke to you that way. You looked beautiful last night. You
always do.”
“Then she called me trash.”
He rolled his eyes. “I was there when she said that and you saw my reaction. She has no room to