Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 87943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Geoffrey fought to pry his eyes open. He knew that voice. A friend. Someone he trusted. A name skittered through his brain as he opened his eyes enough to catch that concerned smile.
“Yeah, need go home,” he said, or at least he tried to get his lips to form the words.
“Okay, let’s get you home.” An arm slid around his waist and Geoffrey leaned against the other person, tripping forward a couple of steps. “Do we need to tell anyone you’re leaving?”
Geoffrey shook his head, his temple rubbing against a shoulder. He could only concentrate on getting one foot in front of the other as he wove his way through the club. The lights flashed against his closed eyelids and the music that he’d enjoyed just minutes earlier beat against his eardrums. He wanted to get home and into his own bed where he could sleep this off.
A hand shifted to his elbow, helping him into the back seat of a car. Whose car was this? The voices blurred. Talk about names and numbers, but none of it made sense. He was just too damn tired. It was easier to sleep.
###
Oh God…everything hurt. Even his hair hurt. Geoffrey moaned and rolled over onto his side, twisting the sheets even more around his waist. The air conditioner kicked on, sending a breeze of cool air brushing against his sweaty skin, chilling him, but it felt good. He lay still in the bed, concentrating on his breathing and the soft hum of the central air. His house was quiet and dark. He often kept the shades drawn in his bedroom. In here, he liked the dark as if he were part mushroom. The rest of his house was bright and airy, but his bedroom was a den of darkness. His escape from the world.
When the cold air finally started to nip at his exposed skin and harden his nipples, Geoffrey grunted and flopped onto his back, jerking the covers up around his bare shoulders. Rubbing bleary eyes, he blinked and forced them to focus on the digital clock on his nightstand. 12:45 p.m. It was late. Really fucking late. Even when he stayed out and partied until dawn, he was still up and in his home office by ten a.m.
Why had he slept so late?
Ignoring the throbbing pain in his head, Geoffrey sat up in bed and looked around. “What happened last night?” he asked the empty room. The memories were hazy. He’d called a driver, went downtown for drinks, meeting up with several of the usual suspects, and then after some annoying comments from Todd, they went to Aesthetic AF. He could vaguely remember a swirl of faces, but within minutes of getting there, his memories started getting blurry. Too blurry for what he was sure he’d drunk. He was careful. He’d gotten too smashed a few times when he was younger, lost massive wads of cash, and had nearly gotten kidnapped for more money. He’d learned his lesson, was more cautious about how much he drank, always had a number ready to call for a ride home.
But last night…last night was different. The alcohol had hit too hard and too fast. His memories were fuzzy ghosts.
Had someone fucked with his drink?
How had he gotten home?
Geoffrey’s stomach soured and churned as he looked down at himself. He was naked except for a pair of thin silk boxers. He couldn’t remember walking into his home, stumbling into his bedroom, or getting undressed.
Who…who had helped him home?
His eyes caught on a neatly folded pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. The same clothes that he’d worn the night before. There was no way in his drunken state he’d taken off his clothes, perfectly folded them, and then climbed into bed. He was a slob when he came home after a night of drinking. He stripped as he walked through the house and spent most of the next day finding random articles of clothing strewn throughout.
A chill spread through Geoffrey until his teeth started chattering, and it had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
Someone had helped him into a car.
Someone had helped him into his house.
Someone had helped him strip off his clothes and put him into bed.…
Shaking his head, he sucked in several deep breaths through his clenched teeth. It was a friend. Someone he trusted. He couldn’t remember who, but he would remember. He’d been surrounded by several friends and acquaintances at the clubs last night. One of them would have seen him struggling and would have taken him home. One of them would have helped him.
All the same, he found himself tossing back the covers and crossing the room. Wrapping his arms around himself, he walked quickly out of the master bedroom, down the hall, then crossed through the living room and dining room. He winced against the bright afternoon sunlight pouring through all the windows and glinting off the pool as he hurried to the spare guest room. Empty.