Page 15 of Bossy Bodyguard

“Can you hear me?” I asked, trying to calm my hammering heart. “Emma? What happened?”

With as much gentleness as I could muster, I picked her up and laid her down on the bed. She couldn’t be drunk, but there was a bottle of champagne. Did she order it? I kept the empty bucket aside after tucking her in bed.

“Where the hell is your purse?” I grumbled, raking a hand through my hair when I didn’t find it. “Fucking great.”

I glanced from her unconscious body to the bottle. It wasn’t even empty. Then how the fuck did she get so wrecked by just two drinks?

My knuckles brushed over her forehead, noting the high temperature. I checked my watch and cursed. I have to call the police—

Without another thought, I opened the main door of the suite and halted when I came face to face with a man in shirt and pants, his expression furious.

“Is Emma here?” he asked, but by the tone of it, he could have put a knife on my neck and said it with a disgusting rasp.

“Yes, but she needs—”

His face twisted. “Emma, are you decent?” he called out and muttered underneath his breath, “Since when did you start sleeping with silver foxes?”

My jaw clenched, knowing well what he meant. “Emma is decent and in bed. Who the fuck are you?”

I didn’t have to waste my time with the jerk. I needed to call an ambulance and get her checked soon.

“I’m Damon Grant. Move.” He tried to intimidate me, but it was hard since I loomed over him without any effort.

I stopped him when he tried to enter the room. The man may have looked decent, but the way he was acting was suspicious. Like hell I’d let him enter when she was unconscious.

“I don’t care who you are.” My jaw clenched when he went past me and I followed him, ready to tackle him down if he tried anything funny. “I need to call an ambulance. She’s unconscious.”

“What the fuck did you do to her?”

I was taken aback by the rawness on his face when he glared at me before leaning down and checking her pulse.

“I found her like this. If she was drunk, she’d be slurring right now, but she didn’t have enough alcohol to get piss drunk. If I suspect something else, then it could mean a loss of motor control.” I checked my watch and then the man, who was clearly more concerned about Emma’s health than who she slept with. “She either ingested rohypnol, GHB or ketamine. So, we need to get her to hospital ASAP.”

“Wait.” The man stood up, his eyes flickering to me and the unconscious woman on the bed. “You mean she was roofied?”

My jaw clenched, hating that I wasn’t there for her for a few more minutes.

“Yes. If you care about her, get the manager and check the cameras. I’ll call emergency—”

“I’m the manager and her brother.” He swallowed the lump in his throat when I gave him a poker face. I figured he was either a jealous ex or an over-protective brother or relative, but what I didn’t understand was how he could watch his unconscious sister and not panic. It was odd. “Can you hold on to calling nine-one-one? I’ll ask our personal doctor to come right—”

I crossed my arms and stared at his cold grey eyes. “Do you know that high doses of these drugs may cause death? I’m not waiting around for you to call your personal doctor.”

“I won’t let her die too,” he snapped, his eyes sharp and challenging me to see if I’d argue. Good for him. He was saved by his phone ringing and he gave me a hard stare when he walked to the corner of the room to take the call.

Let her die, too?

I eyed his back and the unconscious woman on the bed. Was she Emma Grant? I knew he was Damon Grant, CEO of the sex club I was standing in, but I didn’t know he had a sister. I titled my head, taking a step closer to see if her breathing had changed.

It was normal.

My hands clenched in fists. I wanted to do terrible, terrible things to the person who dared drug her for God knows what—

If I wasn’t there, what could have happened? If I hadn’t decided to come back upstairs, something… someone could have—the thought made bile rise to my throat.

My fingers brushed over my bottom lip, on the scar that I despised, reminding me of my ruin.

As Damon had promised, their private doctor arrived with a couple of nurses and checked on Emma. I watched everything with a sharp eye, knowing I couldn’t sit still. My fingers were itching to check the surveillance camera, interrogate the bartender and especially her brother, who looked both furious and guilty, pacing in the room.

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