Frosted (Hate at First Flight #3)

1. Pegasus

SORRY FOR THE ABSENCE AND THANKS FOR THE CONSTANT SUPPORT!

XOXO,

LOSALINI 

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SONG : IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW - BRETT YOUNG

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4 years later

Get home now.

That was the text that woke me up at 3am in the morning. If anything, the text had pivoted me out of my alcohol intoxicated state and had me sitting upright on the king-sized Parnian Furniture bed, grasping my phone tightly as if it was the only thing tethering me to any semblance of sanity.

There were several reasons as to why that brief, almost curt little text left me in such a clutter.

One, the message was from my father. And although I usually dismissed his messages with no further thought, something about the factors surrounding the text itself made me hesitant, made me think twice before I dismissed it.

Why was my father messaging me, and at 3am of all times? Shouldn't he be going off to sleep now? And why wasn't he sending me texts that involved cutting off my trust fund or removing me from his will? Usually our conversations involved the such, especially when I did something that pissed him off exponentially, like ditch Bruce.

Bruce was my chaperone of sorts. Usually the one always in the background making sure I didn't do something stupid, or something that would basically plummet the stock price of the company. Only unlike ordinary chaperones, Bruce didn't blend in. He always stuck out like a sore thumb; his above average proportions making him a constant attraction for curious eyes. It didn't help that he usually walked around with a tailored suit, although thankfully he always took off the dark 'Men in Black' shades when he got out of the car. But his calculating 'don't even think about it punk' look always made everyone give him (and me) a wide berth.

Two, despite the alcohol induced haziness that I had experienced last night, I felt someone watching me. That of course wasn't a new one, but last night was different.

Those mysterious pair of eyes felt like a knife being grazed along my neck. They felt threatening, not envious. They blazed with intentions that left one with chills running through their skin, and not the good kind.

Those eyes left behind a sense of wariness running through me that just led me to downing more shots than I would have otherwise in the span of minutes after entering Wanderlust.

I searched everywhere throughout the night and couldn't quite accurately pinpoint the location of that penetrating gaze. It seemed like he always knew when I'd turn around to look at him, and always managed to systematically blend into the surrounding of wasted trust fund kids and loud music.

Just as my foggy, intoxicated mind started to somewhat clear up enough for me to start wondering over what to do, I heard one loud, clear tap on my door, a pause followed by four fast, consecutive ones, another pause and another two.

Bruce, I thought just before my six foot four chaperone walked into my suite wearing his usual tailored Armani suit looking as collected and put together as he did three hours ago when he dropped me off.

"What hap-"

"We need to go back home now, Ms Holden," Bruce interrupted in his usual serious, formal tone. There was no grogginess in his tone like mine had. He averted his eyes as soon as I stood up, as my not so decent nightie hung a generous amount of inches above the knee. After an awkward clear of a throat he went over to my dresser and started packing up my things.