Page 58 of Driven by Desire

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“Riley, wake up.”

Riley frowned. She really wished people would stop saying that to her. So far nothing good had come of those words. Despite her displeasure at having her sleep rudely interrupted, she managed to crack an eyelid to inspect the person who dared interlope on her good dreams. She should have known. It was her mother.

“Cilia,” she whispered.

Whoa! Was that horrific croak really her voice? Riley’s eyes popped open in surprise, an action she instantly regretted when harsh fluorescent light flooded her vision. She winced, closed her eyes and brought a hand up to cover her offended eyes. Then she winced again when she realized her arm was attached to an IV. Carefully, she cracked her eyes back open and stared at the intravenous line leading from her arm to a bag held high over her head. She frowned for a second. Then her memory came back.

“Fuck,” she croaked, panic settling on her chest. She clutched the blankets on the bed and glanced frantically around her. She must be in a hospital.

Cilia sat on the bed and looked down at Riley, sadness saturating her bright blue eyes. Riley hadn't seen that expression since Alan Bancroft had died. Riley’s bottom lip wobbled and tears welled up.

“Mom,” she cried helplessly, the tears streaming from her eyes and tracking wet paths down her face.

Cilia leaned over and touched Riley’s head, gently sweeping her dark hair away from her face. It wasn't a hug, but it was more, much more than Cilia usually gave. It was her way of loving. Her sad eyes expressed how much she felt for her daughter in that moment. Though it was difficult for her to express. Her delicate, light touch soothed Riley in a way nothing else could, calming her.

After several minutes, Riley had herself under control enough to ask after the one person she wanted most. The one person that should have been there but wasn’t. “Soloman?”

A cool light touched Cilia’s eyes. She said only one word to explain his absence. “Retribution.”

Riley frowned, baffled.

Cilia smiled pleasantly and stood, smoothing her coral skirt. “Never mind, dear. He’ll be back shortly. He didn't leave your side all night. In fact, when they dared try to mention visiting hours he had you transferred to this private unit where he explained exactly what would happen if they tried to force him to leave. No one was brave enough to ask. He flew in a pharmacology doctor from Atlanta who specializes in both PCP and GHB, both of which that disgusting little man had on his person. I am very impressed with how thorough your Mr. Hart has been with your care. I haven’t had to step in at all.”

Riley’s mouth fell open. She wasn’t sure what to process first. Her mother’s being impressed by anyone other than her own self was HUGE. Then, there were the type of drugs being forced through her system. She was both horrified and disgusted to learn she’d been forced to take a combination of the date rape drug and PCP, otherwise known as angel dust. Then there was Soloman’s heavy-handed care of her. Apparently, he’d refused to leave her side all night, yet he wasn’t here when she woke up. It was confusing. And it hurt.

Cilia watched the flickering emotions cross her daughter’s face. “He’s also flying in a counsellor from Vancouver. Apparently, she’s married to a friend of his and comes highly recommended. For when you're ready to talk about what happened.”

Riley pulled her knees up under the covers, hugging them against her chest, subconsciously recoiling away from the idea of sharing her horrific experience. “I don't need to talk to anyone, especially not a stranger.”

Cilia nodded and shrugged her shoulders, turning away from the bed. She looked out the door into the interior of the hospital. It was just like Cilia to watch the people and the inner workings of the hospital than to gaze out a window toward something more scenic.

“Side effects of large doses of phencyclidine, otherwise known as PCP, can include distortions of time, space, body image, and visual stimuli. Impairment of higher cortical functions, such as attention, concentration, judgement, motor coordination and speech. Other symptoms can include paranoia, confusion, hallucinations, anxiety, agitation, delusions, bizarre and sometimes violent behaviour…”

“Cilia," Riley gasped, “stop! I’m not some fucking drug addict!”

The cool blond turned to look at her daughter, seriousness reflecting in her eyes as she took in the agitated young woman on the bed. She smoothed the blanket over Riley’s legs. “Of course not, dear. But the drugs were in your blood stream and entered your brain. You should talk to this woman about possible long-term effects and how to cope with any side effects. Including, but not limited to, possible flashbacks, prolonged anxiety, social withdrawal and isolation, severe depression, impairment of memory…”

“Holy shit, mother, stop! I’ll see her!” Riley yelled hoarsely. Jesus, she’d become so used to Cilia avoiding her that she forgot how much her mother sounded like a damn textbook.

Cilia beamed at Riley, patted her foot through the blanket and turned to leave. “I’ll send Katie and Wendell in. They're very anxious to see you, but Soloman has been strict about visitors.”

Riley watched her mother leave with a suspicion that she just got played by the master.

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