Chapter 4

I winced as fragments of the previous night flickered through my mind. With each passing second, the pain grew more unbearable.

Last night…

I drove away with no particular destination in mind. Yet somehow, I managed to find myself parked outside a bar. I walked in and sat at the counter.

“What would you like, Miss?” the bartender asked me.

“A shot of tequila, and a shot of whiskey.”

Just for tonight, I didn't want to care anymore about the photograph, the note, Eleanor, Ethan, or the possibility that everything I believed in was a lie.

“Miss?” he asked.

He studied my face for a moment before reaching for the bottles.

He placed my drinks in front of me and I wasted no time taking a shot. The alcohol burned its way down my throat, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. It was oddly satisfying.

I urged the bartender to pour me another shot, and another. At some point, I lost count of how many shots I'd had. The bartender’s voice slowly became distant, while the loud music and dancers on the floor began to blur. My mind grew hazy, and the weight on my shoulders seemed to ease.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to make sense of the remaining blurred flashes in my mind, but it only caused my head to ache further.

“God, how much did I drink?” I mumbled.

My gaze returned to the man standing by the door. He watched me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher, looking far too composed for my liking.

“Who are you, and how did I get here?” I asked, pressing a hand to my aching head.

He raised an eyebrow. “How many of those questions am I expected to answer?”

“Freshen up and come downstairs. Bathroom’s over there,” he gestured towards the door in the corner.

“You haven't answered my questions,” I said, getting annoyed.

“We’ll talk downstairs.” He turned to walk away.

“Wait…”

He shut the door before I could say anything else.

“So mean.” I scoffed.

My gaze wandered around the room. It was luxurious, from the carefully arranged furniture to the polished floors. I slid out of bed, my feet sinking deeper into the thick grey carpet.

The throbbing pain in my head continued as I walked into the bathroom.

“Didn't even offer me an aspirin or something,” I murmured, while trying to put my hair in a bun.

A soft knock interrupted me. Before I could respond, the bathroom door opened, and a middle-aged woman in a maid’s uniform slipped inside.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Vance. This is from Mr. Jacobs,” she said, handing me a pack of aspirin. “He also prepared fresh clothes for you. They're on the bed.”

Mr. Jacobs?

The name sounded really familiar but the pounding in my head made it hard to think.

“You know me?” I asked.

She let out a little laugh.

“Please don't be modest, Mrs. Vance. Everybody knows who you are.” She smiled, as though my question amused her.

“Mr. Jacobs is waiting for you.” She walked away, shutting the door behind her.

***

I walked downstairs, and met the woman from earlier, waiting at the foot of the stairs.

“This way, Mrs. Vance.” She gestured for me to follow her and led me down a quiet hallway.

“Mr. Jacobs is in here,” she said, stopping in front of a dark wooden door.

I nodded and she opened the door for me.

The room looked like a mini office, with a large mahogany desk positioned near the windows, and a couple of leather chairs around a small table. It was tastefully furnished, but what caught my attention was the man seated behind the desk.

His attention was fixed on the document in front of him, as though I wasn't present.

“Come in, Mia,” he said, without looking up.

“Do you always invite people in without looking at them?”

He glanced at me, putting down the document.

“Only the ones who interrogate me first thing in the morning before they've even brushed their teeth.”

I stared at him.

Was he making fun of me?

“Take a seat, Mia.” He gestured towards the chair opposite his desk.

I hesitated before sitting down.

“Now, would you like to explain to me how I got here?” I asked.

“Would you like the short version or the long one?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “The version that answers my question.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying me for a moment.

“You were drunk and I brought you here,” he said, flatly.

“Why?” I asked.

“Oh, what would have me do, Mia? I'm not the one getting into a stranger’s car drunk.”

I blinked.

“Was that all I did?”

His lips curled up into a smile.

“You did a lot more than that, Mia.”

I shot him a glare, and he let out a chuckle.

I was beginning to understand why I'd found him so annoying in the morning.

“You know who I am, so why didn't you take me home,” I asked, crossing my arms.

“And explain to your cheating husband how his wife got drunk and ended up in my car?”

“Cheating husband? How do you know that?” I leaned forward.

“You weren't exactly quiet about it.” He smirked.

My lips parted but no words came out. Embarrassment washed over me.

Ask him the question, Mia.

“So… did we?” I asked, fidgeting with my fingers under the desk.

“Are you asking if he had sex, Mia?” he asked, clearly amused.

I nodded.

“Well, what do you think, Mia?” he asked.

Oh God! I slept with a stranger?

My cheeks warmed slightly.

“Look Mr. Jacobs, last night was a mistake, and I apologize. But right now, I need to go home to my daughter. Do you perhaps have my phone and purse?”

“I have your car too.” He opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out my phone, purse, and keys

“Thank you, Mr. Jacobs, but I really hope we don't meet again,” I said, standing up.

He chuckled, “Oh, Mia, we will be meeting a lot more than you could imagine.”

Is this man always so insufferable?

“I hope not.” I turned towards the door, eager to put some distance between myself and him.

“Mia?” I turned back to him.

“I really think you should talk to your best friend first. You've known her for years.”

God, just how much did I reveal to this man?

“Thank you, Mr. Jacobs,” I said, walking away.

I had a daughter to get home to, a cheating pair to confront, and a life that was falling apart. The last thing I needed was another complication.

Once I was seated in my car, I turned my phone on, and a message from Ethan popped up.

“We need to talk.”