4. The Hot Stranger

Sophie Laurent showed up at Anne's apartment three days later with a bottle of tequila and a plan.

"We're going out," Sophie said.

Anne was on the couch in sweatpants. She'd been there since the engagement dinner. Her phone was still lost. She hadn't bothered to replace it.

"I don't want to go out," Anne said.

"I don't care what you want," Sophie said. She pulled Anne off the couch. "You've been crying for three days over a man who isn't worth your tears. Tonight, we forget Donald Ashford exists."

"Sophie…"

"No arguments. Come on babe…wear something hot."

Anne didn't have the energy to fight so she agreed in the end.

She showered and put on a black dress that Sophie pulled from her closet. It was tight and short.

"Perfect," Sophie said. "Now let's go."

The club they went to was called VIBE. The place was packed with extremely loud music.

Sophie ordered shots at the bar.

"To being single," Sophie said, raising her glass.

"I'm not single yet," Anne said. "Technically."

"Your father called off the engagement. You're single. Drink."

The tequila burned going down. Sophie ordered two more and by the third shot, Anne felt lighter. 

They moved to the dance floor. The music pounded through Anne's chest. Sophie danced beside her, laughing and free.

They danced for an hour before Sophie's phone rang. Sophie checked the screen and her face changed.

"I have to take this," she shouted over the music.

Anne nodded.

Sophie stepped away. When she came back, she looked stressed.

"It's my mom," Sophie said. "She fell. She's at the hospital. I have to go."

"Is she okay?" Anne asked.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I can't stay."

"Go," Anne said. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I can call you a car…"

"Sophie, go… your mom needs you."

Sophie hugged her quickly. "Text me when you get home."

“Ok. Love you!”

Anne stood on the edge of the dance floor alone. She thought about leaving too. But the apartment was empty and quiet and she didn't want to go back yet.

She went to the bar instead.

"Vodka cranberry," she told the bartender.

He made it quickly. And he passed it across to her. Anne drank half of it in one go.

A man appeared next to her, he looked like a wannabe.

"You look like you're having a bad night," he said.

"I'm fine," Anne said.

"Let me buy you a drink."

"I already have one."

"Then let me buy you another one."

"No thanks," Anne said, turning away from him but he moved closer instead.

"Come on sexy…just one drink."

"I said no."

Anne picked up her glass to walk away talking another sip to wash down the weirdness of the stranger. She finished her drink at the other end of the bar. She was starting to feel dizzy. The alcohol was hitting harder than it should. So she ordered water to sober up.

The bartender brought it. Anne drank it down but the dizziness got worse.

The room started to tilt. The music got louder. The lights got brighter.

Anne gripped the edge of the bar. Something was wrong. She tried to stand but her legs wouldn't work properly.

"Hey, you okay?"

It was the man from before. He was back. His hand was on her arm.

"I'm fine," Anne said. Her words slurred. "Don't touch me."

"You don't look fine. Let me help you outside baby."

He was pulling her toward the exit. Anne tried to resist but her body felt heavy.

"No," she said. "Let go."

"It's okay. I've got you."

They were moving through the crowd now. Toward the back exit and away from people.

Anne's vision blurred. This wasn't alcohol. He'd done something to her drink.

Anne tried to scream but nothing came out. The man pushed open the back door. The alley was dark and empty.

"No," Anne managed. She pulled against him weakly.

Then suddenly he was gone.

Someone had grabbed the man and thrown him against the wall.

Anne stumbled. Strong hands caught her before she fell.

"Are you alright?"

The voice was familiar. Deep and sultry.

Anne looked up.

It was him. The man from the hotel who had paid for her room.

"You," Anne whispered.

The man who'd tried to drug her was on the ground now, holding his face. Blood dripped from his nose.

"Leave," the stranger said. "Before I call the police."

The man scrambled up and ran.

Anne's legs gave out.

The stranger caught her. He lifted her easily, one arm under her knees, one behind her back.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," he said.

"No," Anne said. The word came out fast. "No hospitals. Please."

The stranger looked down at her. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

"Fine," he said. "But you're not staying here."

He carried her to the front of the club. A black Porsche was waiting. A driver was already inside.

The stranger put Anne in the back seat and slid in next to her.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

Anne tried to remember her address. The numbers wouldn't come.

"I don't... I can't..."

"Goddamn it," the stranger muttered.

He gave the driver an address instead.

The car started moving.

Anne leaned against the window. Everything was spinning. Everything was hot. She felt too hot.

She pulled at her dress. It was too tight. She couldn't breathe.

"Stop moving," the stranger said.

"I'm hot," Anne said. She pulled at the neckline. "It's too hot."

"You're drugged. You need to stay still."

But Anne couldn't. Her skin felt like it was burning. She needed... something. She needed relief?

She looked at the man next to her.

He was handsome…very handsome. And her mind started suggesting creative solutions. Anne's hand moved to his chest. The fabric of his suit was cool under her palm.

"What are you doing?" the stranger asked. His voice was tight.

"You're cold," Anne said. "I'm hot."

She moved closer. Her other hand found his tie.

"Stop," he said.

But Anne didn't stop. She climbed into his lap. Her fingers went to his belt.

The stranger grabbed her wrists. "You need to stop."

"I don't want to stop," Anne said. She leaned in. Her lips found his neck.

The stranger's breathing changed. His grip on her wrists tightened.

"You're not thinking clearly," he said. "This is the drug talking."

"I don't care," Anne whispered against his skin.

Her fingers slipped from his grip. They went back to his belt. She found the buckle.

"Christ," the stranger muttered.

Anne unbuckled it.

The stranger caught her hands again. This time he held them firm.

"Listen to me," he said. His voice was low and strained. "You need to stop. Right now!"

Anne looked at him. His  face was close to hers. His eyes were darker than before.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you'll regret this," he said.

"No, I won't."

"Yes," he said quietly. "You will. Especially when you find out who I am."