Page 30 of Power
I look down to see myself in my underwear, and last night comes flashing back to me in fits and bursts.
Shoving my hand into my bed-head nest of hair, I stumble into the kitchen to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
“Morning.”
“Ahhhhh!” I scream, my heart pounding in my chest at the unfamiliar greeting.
Spinning around, I clutch my head and glare at Owen, who is parked on the sofa, reading a book he picked up from my bookshelf. A well-worn copy of a dark secret society romance called Crash, where the woman is a badass queen, and she has multiple lovers. It’s my guilty pleasure, and now, apparently, Owen’s as well. He grins at me and waggles the book in my direction. “This is hot.”
“What are you doing here?” I snap, forgetting about my lack of clothing and turning to the kitchen tap for water.
He leaps up and hands me a glass and two paracetamol, which I take with bad grace.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay after last night.”
At the mention of last night, I cringe and turn from him, my cheeks going hot. “Sorry,” I murmur. “I don’t usually throw myself at the nearest male.”
“I know you don’t,” he says quietly, pouring me a cup of coffee, which he leaves on the counter for me to pick up at my leisure. “Nothing happened.”
“I know. I wasn’t that tanked.”
He snickers. “You were, but okay.”
I pause, something bugging me. “You said if we started, you wouldn’t be able to stop.”
“I also said, I’m not that guy. Bailey, I would never do anything to hurt you. Yes, I know I did more than I should’ve, but I stopped before I got carried away and put you to bed.”
“Thanks.”
He nods and picks up his jacket. “I’ll see you at work.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “It was a weird day.”
He freezes.
My eyes go immediately to the letter I left folded up on the coffee table and they widen in horror. Did he read it? How could he not have? It was just sitting there. You would have to be a saint not to go peeking.
“Yes, I can imagine. A lot happened yesterday but know that none of us will hurt you.”
“I don’t understand,” I blurt out.
He smiles sadly. “You will.”
He leaves without a look back, making me feel horrible for disappointing him or making him upset. I didn’t do anything that I know of. Or maybe I did. He wanted me last night. If my alcohol-addled brain remembers correctly, he said he’d wanted me for years.
I sigh and head to the shower to turn it on, coming back for my coffee while the water heats up. One thing is for sure, I need to get my head on straight before I arrive at work. Today is going to be interesting, but I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.
I turn back to the door when there is a knock. Expecting it to be Owen again, I cross over to it and open it, scooting to the side when I remember I’m still in my underwear.
It’s not Owen, but Mrs. Parker from down the hall. “Here,” she says gruffly, shoving a package a bit smaller than a shoebox at me. “I took this in for you yesterday.”
“Thanks. Sorry, I meant to come for it last night but got sidetracked.”
She shrugs and peers over my shoulder into my apartment but gives up when she doesn’t see anything suspicious. “Well, okay then.”
“Bye.” I shut the door and place the package down on the side table. It’s heavy-ish. I unwrap the plain brown paper, wondering what the hell it is. I lift the lid of the box, and my blood runs cold.
I gulp and quickly replace the lid, pushing the paper back over it.
