3 - LEXI - GOING CRAZY

I should’ve been drained, but when I get to work I’m strangely full of energy.

Before I can even boot up my computer, Sabrinna drops her bag on the desk right beside mine — like she does every morning — and immediately leans into my space.

She barely sets her purse down before cupping my face in her hands.

— Oh my God, Lexy, are you okay? — Her eyes are wide, her voice racing.

I pull her hands down and hold them tight in mine.

— Brinna, I’m sorry… I lost track of time and — there was the gunshot and…

I’m so scattered I can hardly make sense of the words spilling out.

— Gunshot? — Now she looks panicked.

My hands tremble as I tug at my blazer sleeve and stare again at my skin — smooth, flawless, not even a scar.

— I swear I was shot in the arm… just grazed, but —  I cut myself off. It sounds insane, even to me.

— I think you were drugged.

My shoulders lock.

— Drugged?

— I saw you on that dance floor, Lexi. I saw you with the guys who run the club… — She squeezes my hands tighter — hers shaking now too. — But the security wouldn’t let anyone near you. It was… strange.

But if I was drugged, it would’ve had to happen before I even walked in — back in line. Or how else could I have imagined the gunshot?

— I wasn’t drugged, Brinna. Something’s wrong with my head. I think I need to see a doctor.

She gives me that look — pity softening her eyes.

I grew up in an orphanage. Brinna knows the doubts and fears I still carry about my past. She knows what they told me there: father unknown. Mother who struggled with mental illness and eventually took her own life.

So she doesn’t need to read my mind to know exactly what’s eating at me now — the fear that maybe I’m losing it too.

—------------------- // ------------------------- // -----------------------

The numbers on my balance sheet blur with the memory of a hard body pressed into mine… the heat of masculine breath against my ear…

I spent almost the entire night with Samiel, but it’s steel eyes that keep tangling my thoughts into knots.

The voice of the HR assistant yanks me out of my head, sharp and sudden. I can’t imagine why she’d call me in — my record here has always been spotless.

But when I leave her office, I’m gutted.

Sure, the thought of losing my income scares me — my savings wouldn’t even cover a month. But it’s the sense of being discarded that crushes my chest.

Hearing so bluntly that the company you’ve devoted years to just doesn’t need you anymore… It hurts.

Brinna’s eyes shine with tears. For five years it’s been the two of us, side by side, every single day.

And now that´s over.

—------------------- // ------------------------- // -----------------------

Me, a bottle of wine — well, now is a third of a bottle — and my misery. Watching Interview with the Vampire on TV.

I tip the bottle back again just as the doorbell rings. That’s the curse of living in a building right on the street, no gates, no doorman: people just show up. Probably Brinna, here to cheer me up.

I peek through the peephole and — what the hell?

— How do you even know where I live? — I ask, the door still locked.

— Open up. I came to talk. — That calm, intoxicating voice drifts in like classical music to my worn-out mind.

— What are you, some kind of psycho?

— When you fainted, I checked your driver’s license to see who you were. Finding your address wasn’t hard after that.

Of course. Everything’s easy for the rich.

Against every scrap of common sense, I undo the lock. Because his voice soothes me… and that flawless face might make me forget this entire day.

Samiel’s there, one broad shoulder leaned against my doorframe, casual… and devastatingly perfect.

— I only opened it because I have questions about last night.

His smile curls, and my heart leaps, restless.

My apartment is a tiny studio — concrete floors, a bed that takes up half the room. In the corner, a kitchenette. Beside the bathroom, my closet. Between the bed and the kitchen, a sofa and a coffee table facing the TV.

Samiel sprawls across the couch, and I sit too, leaving the middle cushion empty.

— Did you drug me? — My voice cracks, but I try to hold it steady. — And the gunshot? I bled… I saw it!

He doesn’t even blink. His stare is so sharp it twists my stomach.

— Why are you drinking alone? — he asks, ignoring the question. — And straight from the bottle?

— Bad day. Now answer me.

— What happened to your day?

— Fired. — I pause. — Why are you here? I’m just an ordinary girl. I’m not the unforgettable type… especially for a man who looks like you. Why show up at my apartment?

— I can help with the job situation. Nox needs an accountant. You’d make a lot more than you did at your last job.

I shake my head, dizzy — wine clouding my thoughts.

— How do you even know how much I made? Wait… how do you know I’m an accountant?

A cold panic crawls down my spine.

Did I tell him my life story last night? Am I having the same kind of psychotic breaks my mother had? What else happened in those lost hours I can’t remember?

— Did we sleep together last night? — I cut straight to it.

He arches a brow, a smile spreading—pure wickedness. But he doesn’t answer.

Fury erupts inside me, sharp and hot.

— I’m not letting you turn my life into a joke. If you won’t answer me, get out of my place.

I start to rise, but he’s faster. His hands catch me and pull me down into his lap, straddling him, one leg on each side of his hips.

— No one drugged you… — The low heat of his whisper brushes my skin, melting whatever resistance I had left. I inhale deep, as if I could drink that warmth into me. — And yes… your wound has already healed.

His hands slide to my hips, gripping tight, possessive. And then he moves me. Forward. Back. Slow at first — just enough for me to feel every inch of his hardness pressing against the thin barrier of my panties beneath my short dress.

— I’m here because you’re not an ordinary girl… — The words come ragged, cut short as his pace builds. — …not to someone like me.

My breathing stutters, uneven. My hips grind on their own, hungry, desperate for more friction. His fingers dig harder, guiding me over the rigid length of him, forcing me to ride him deeper, rougher.

— That’s why I dug into your life… your address, your job… — His voice hits my mouth with each word, so close it’s almost a kiss, but not quite.

My body arches into his, the thick, throbbing pressure hitting right where I need it most.

The movements are frantic now — delicious, brutal friction that leaves me seconds from begging.

— And no… — His teeth grit, his words a growl. — …we didn’t sleep together.

He stops. Brutally. My whole body shakes, desperate for what never came.

— When it happens… — His voice is angelic, but the promise is pure sin. — …nothing will let you forget.

He lifts me off his lap as if I weigh nothing, sets me aside, and heads for the door.

— If you want more answers, I’ll be at Nox tomorrow.

And then I’m alone again, in the silence of my apartment, legs trembling.

Tomorrow. Again.

If I’m not insane yet, these men are going to drive me there.