After Eating a Poisonous Mushroom, I Thought I Was the Heroine of an Erotica
After eating a poisonous, hallucination-inducing mushroom, I genuinely thought I’d woken up inside a spicy erotica novel.
I was the heroine—a live-in housekeeper working for a rich heir, the kind of impossibly handsome, impossibly wealthy man who only exists in fiction.
When I opened my eyes and saw him standing there, I felt… oddly disappointed.
I muttered under my breath, “Only six guys? What, do I need to take Sundays off?”
The heir let out a short, disbelieving laugh. A slow, dangerous one.
“If I’d known you were this bold,” he said, “I wouldn’t have bothered being gentle.”
The moment the hallucination faded, I grabbed his sleeve and practically burst into tears. “Honey, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean any of that.”
He loosened his tie with maddening calm and murmured, “Relax. No one here takes Sundays off. And if you’re that eager to follow the plot of your little erotica novel… we can start right now.”