Page 76 of Broken

He scowls. “She must have targeted you for a reason. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.”

My mind races with questions that I have no answers for, but my brother’s suspicion ignites a flicker of hope. If I was drugged, that means I didn’t knowingly cheat on my wife, no matter what happened with that woman. Maybe Mel will be able to forgive me. “How about we do this damn drug test first and then we can figure out who she was and why the hell she drugged me.”

The door opens, and Elijah’s secretary, Joseph, walks in. He hands him a white plastic envelope, sneaks a brief glance in my direction, then quickly leaves the room. My older brother clears his throat. “He signed an NDA,” Elijah says when I stare at the door Joseph exited.

“What?” I shake my head, trying to clear it.

“If you’re worried about him bringing us a drug test,” Elijah adds.

I bark a humorless laugh and wince when it sets off the marching band in my skull. “I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about how the fuck I explain all of this to Mel.” I glance at the plastic envelope in his hands. “Especially if that’s negative. That would mean I cheated on my wife, Elijah.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He hands me the swab kit. “Besides, I’d bet my Bentley you were drugged.”

Scowling, I open the packaging and skim the directions. “I bought you that fucking car last year for your fortieth birthday.”

“Then you know how much it means to me. Swab your cheek.”

I rub the cotton end of the swab along the inside of my cheek and place it in the small container. “How long do these things take to work?” I glance at the indicator window.

“Just a few minutes.” He holds out his hand, indicating I should pass him the sample. I have no idea what I’m looking for, so I hand it over. He stares at it, and I stare at him. Holding my breath, I feel like my world stops spinning on its axis while I await the results.

“Hmm,” he finally says. “Positive for opioids and Rohypnol.”

Both relief and fury rush through me, battling for dominance. “I was fucking roofied?”

“Yeah.”

Sinking into the chair, I drop my head in my hands. “So what the fuck did she do to me when I was unconscious?” Bile surges in my throat again.

“I can have her arrested for sexual assault within the hour. Did you stay at the Moretti hotel?”

I look up at him and shake my head. “I always stay there. But no. Not yet. Let me process. I need to speak to Mel and tell her, and then…” The air leaves my lungs in a rush. It’s all too fucking overwhelming to deal with right now. I’ll get answers, I’m fucking sure of it, but right now I need to speak to my wife and tell her what happened. And hope that she knows me well enough to believe me.

I snatch the test off the table. “I need to go home.”

“Nathan!” Elijah’s voice is so full of concern that it irrationally annoys me. I don’t need his fucking pity. “Let’s talk this through. Let me—”

“The only person I need to speak to right now is my wife.” I spit out the words, directing my anger at him because I don’t know where else to put it. Other than on myself for being so goddamn stupid that I let myself get drugged.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay. But I’m here if you need anything at all. Okay?”

Without answering him, I storm out of his office and head home with a churning in my gut that I have a horrible feeling isn’t going away any time soon.

Chapter

Forty

MELANIE

Ibounce on my toes like an excited teenager about to go on her first date while I wait for Nathan to step off the elevator. I’ve missed him so much, which seems silly given that he’s only been gone for three days, but any amount of time without him lately feels long and torturous. Smoothing down my dress, I think about the black lace I have on underneath and smile. I intend to welcome him home with all the enthusiasm of his own personal cheer squad.

The doors open and he steps out, and I let out an involuntary shriek as I bound forward and throw my arms around his neck.

“Mel.” His voice is hoarse, full of pain, and I pull back and stare at his face. God, he looks awful. Pale and drawn. His eyes are bloodshot, and he has a thick shadow of stubble across his jaw, which usually only serves to make him sexier, but today it seems to make him look worn down.

“Are you okay? Are you sick?”

Shaking his head, he takes my hands in his. “Let’s go sit.”

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