Filed To Story: Pretty Poisoned Novel by Elle Mitchell
“You missed brunch. Did you forget we had reservations?” she asks. “I called the room like ten times, and…” She pauses, taking in my appearance. “I thought you went to bed earlyyou look like shit.”
“I didn’t hear it,” I tell her. “I’m sorry. I feel like shit. I think I ate some bad sushi or something. I was up all night vomiting.”
“You look like it,” she says. She looks me over, likely considering whether or not to be angry. “Well, we have a cabana by the pool. We’re headed down now. Come and join us when you’re feeling better.”
“I’ll try,” I tell her. “I think I’m going to go lie back down.”
“Well, don’t forget the show at six,” she says.
“I won’t. Hopefully, I’ll feel better by then.”
“Yeah, hopefully,” she says. “If you’re not going to be there, you need to let me know.” She adjusts her beach bag and turns away from me.
“Okay,” I say as she walks away.
She pauses, turning back to add, “You should call the restaurant. That’s supposed to be a nice place; that’s not okay.”
“I’ll consider that,” I tell her.
I close the door and go back to panicking, running through last night’s events in my mind.
It was Declan. He put something in my water, and then he must have put me back in here.
And then, he left me again. I run to the bathroom and throw up, then lean against the side of the tub until the room stops spinning. Once it does, I pull myself up, splash water on my face, drink water from a glass beside the sink, and then return to the bedroom. I dig through my suitcase until I find some underwear and a pair of shorts and pull them on. Then, I grab my key and rush down the hallway to the elevator.
After what feels like forever, the doors finally open in front of me. I step inside, waiting for the doors to close again before pushing the button for the forty-second floor, where Declan brought me last night, over and over again, but it doesn’t light up.
It must be broken. What the fuck?
Someone must call the elevator in the meantime because it begins moving upward, stopping at the thirty-eighth floor. I get out and look for the staircase, climbing until I get to the door marked ’42,’ and I’m met with the sounds of power tools and construction workers moving in and out of rooms on the floor.
“Excuse me, miss,” one of the men shouts. “You can’t be here.”
“I have a friend staying in one of the rooms,” I tell him.
“Not on this floor,” he says. “You must have gotten the wrong room number. This entire floor is closed for construction; there’s no one staying here.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Can I check? It was room 4223.”
“Lady, I’m sure,” he says. “I have men in that room working on the kitchen right nowno one is staying here. Now, I’m going to ask you to leave one more time, and then I’m going to have to call securityit’s a safety hazard.”
“All right, fine. I’m going.”
Sighing, I turn and head back out to the stairwell, then down to my own room. After stepping inside, I move to the window, pull the blinds closed, and then kick off my shorts before climbing back into bed. I pull the covers over my head, and feel itthe emptiness in my chest, the ache of longing and loneliness.
I picture myself as I was hours ago, leaning back against Luca’s chest in the jacuzzi tub, laughing with him under the covers. The shirt, the heartcould I have made all of that up? But no the room was under constructionI remember. The kitchen was missing its countertops and the walls had been stripped in the living room; there were tarps over the furniture and on the floors. I couldn’t have known that.
I didn’t do this to myself.
I try to remember what Declan said to me before I passed outhe said it was important that I didn’t tell anyone I saw him, and that he wasn’t going to leave me again.
But he’s lied before. And he’s gone now. What was the point?
I close my eyes, sinking back into the memory. A part of me wishes Fake Luca would show up right now and tell me I’m going to be okay.
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I must have fallen asleep again because when I wake up, the clock on the bedside table says it’s after four in the afternoon. I still feel a little sick, but not like I did this morning. After using the bathroom, I grab the room service menu from the bedside table and order some food. Then, I grab the television remote from the table, jumping when I notice Sebastian leaning against the closet door.
“Jesus! What the fuck are you doing?”
“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
I shrug. “I haven’t checked it. I drank too much last night. I’ve been sleeping. Is that why you’re here? Because I didn’t answer my phone?”
“You sure that’s it?” he asks. “You didn’t do anything bad, did you, Teagan?”
“I was on my best behavior,” I tell him. “You said you’d give me space.”
“You didn’t seem like you wanted space,” he says.
“Like I said, I got really drunk, and I got a little bit lonelyit’s not like I can really talk to anyone elsebut I’m fine now. You can go.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Suit yourself. I have shit to do.”
I walk to the minifridge and take out a water bottle, closely inspecting the cap to make sure it’s sealed.
“Do you want to play monsters instead?” He runs a hand down my back and then over my hip. “The Order owns a club here under one of the hotels. Wait until you see the things they do there the things people will come here to pay for will have you so wet, you’ll”
“No,” I say, shrugging him off.
“Come on,” he says. “You know you’re curious.”
“How long have you been sitting there watching me?”
“A couple of hours,” he says. “What’s your problem?”
“I’m sick and tired and hungry,” I tell him. “You weren’t supposed to be here. I didn’t come here to play monsters; I came here to maybe have one last good memory. And so that maybe when I think of my sister, I can think of her the way I did before everything happened. Maybe she can think of me that way, tooafter she thinks I’m dead.”
His eyes darken. “You know, no one living has ever spoken to me the way you do,” he says. “Do you have any idea how hard it is not to cut you into pieces? How many times I’ve had to stop myself? I think about sticking my knife in you almost as often as I think about sticking my dick in you.”
“Do you want me to thank you for not killing me? Don’t hold your breath, Bone Saw,” I scoff. “There isn’t much that scares me anymore.”
His hand shoots out, grabbing me by the throat. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.”
There’s something different in his eyes nowsomething I haven’t seen before. I’m momentarily taken aback, thinking I must be misreading it.
But when I blink, it’s still there. He’s hurt.
“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” I whisper.
He must realize his mistake, letting that sliver of real emotion seep through the surface, because he breaks eye contact, dropping his gaze to my chest, and tightens his grip.
Running a finger of his other hand over my nipple, he says, “There’s blood seeping through your t-shirt. How’s normal working out for the Queen of the Bloodsluts?”
“About as well as you’d think,” I force out through my constricted airway just before I hear a knock on the door.
“Room service!” the voice on the other side calls out.
Sebastian releases me, and I glare at him with my hand at the base of my neck, breath heaving, before moving toward the door. Before I can pull it open, his hand closes over mine, stopping me, and he looks through the peephole.
“You have a shitty sense of self-preservation,” he says. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.