Twenty-one and ready to take on the world, orphan Lizzie Gold didn't expect her chance encounter with a stranger to lead to a damnable task - to take down a rising business tycoon.
Ryan Pierce - her viciously handsome target and her new boss - might...
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L I Z Z I E 41 | forever isn't enough
I wake up in Ryan's bedroom the next morning, holding onto my last scraps of sanity. My head pounds wildly, flashes of last night's hangover adventures crawling my skin in disgust of myself.
I remember everything. Why?
I am not ashamed of what I did. I am only ashamed of remembering my deeds. Memory is a curse. We would have fared better without them. Memories are the source of every grief. Even death is nothing without memories of what is lost.
I want to blame Tia for the embarrassment I am about to endure but then stop myself at the realization that somehow she knew who was the one I wanted to see the most. I had spent two weeks without him, two worst weeks, and Tia had been there through my rants, my worthless excuses, my shabby presence near her. She hadn't complained when I blabbered her ears off which means over the past two weeks she became my mind reader, knowing exactly how to make Ryan and I meet again.
She had been the one to suggest the pub. She had been the one to introduce me to the best drink in the world, making my inhibitions lower.
I will strangle her when I get home. That is if I get home.
I want to stay here. I already feel a lot better although Ryan isn't in the room. I don't know where he is but his room provides the comfort I have been seeking in other places. This room has his scent and it is a scent that comforts me.
I wake up, clumsily banging my knee on the bedside table and throwing my phone and Ryan's on the floor.
"Shit!" I curse, picking them up again.
I find an Advil and a glass of water there and take them, praying that the Advil works quickly to get rid of the pounding.
While lost in my thoughts, my eyes collide with my reflection in his bedroom mirror which shows me a crappy-looking version of myself with my dress riding up my thighs, the shoulder straps dropped to my arms, and my hair sticking out in places. I stride up to the mirror, staring at it in awe.
Did I look like this last night? Did Ryan see me like this?
Tia doesn't deserve strangulation. She deserves a knife to her chest.
I am a little relieved that Ryan hasn't seen me like this while I am in my senses. The conversation would have been awkward.
I drag my steps to his closet, throwing it open to browse through his shirts. I pick a purple one from the collection and pave my way to the bathroom.
I could go home. Fight with him again. Or be mature and take a shower instead. Even my own smell is making me barf.
I opt for the latter. I am too shabby to even have an intelligible conversation with even myself. I would rather be proper first than miss a chance in his luxurious bathroom.
