Chapter 5
The cab pulled around to the garage area. “This is where they like to be dropped off. He should have a key that fits that elevator over there; his name should be on the inside next to the key hole telling you which floor he is on, good luck.”
I stared at the cabbie because one: how did he know this and two: I had no intention of taking him further than the elevator. I opened his wallet and thumbed through his money. I shook my head at the fact he only had several $100 bills. I took out a hundred and handed it to the driver, “Keep the change,” I winked.
A large smile swept across his face, “Thanks ma’am.”
“Don’t mention it; you can thank him next time.”
I opened the door and grabbed his arm pulling him out of the cab. I put his arm over my shoulder and walked him to the elevator. He kept stumbling almost taking me down with him. I searched his pocket for his keys. It was that awkward moment when I put my hand in his side pocket and felt something semi hard that were not his keys. I pushed the button on the elevator and he looked at me.
“You are a beautiful woman, and I’m going to f*ck you really hard,” he said as he grabbed my ass. I sighed and removed his hand from my behind, “Only in your dreams sweetie, only in your dreams.”
The elevator opened. I escorted him inside and looked at the different keys on his key ring wondering which one fit the elevator. I turned to him as he was leaning up against the back of the elevator, “Can you please show me which key goes here.” He flashed me a drunken smile and seductively took the key ring from me; picked which key and held it up. “Thank you,” I smiled.
I inserted the key into the lock next to his name as it took us up to the top floor. The elevator doors opened to the biggest and most beautiful penthouse I have ever seen. Ok, it was the only penthouse I’ve ever seen, but it was still beautiful. My full intention was to lean him up against the wall and leave; I’d assume he would pass out on the floor and wake up in the morning; that was until he looked at me and said he was going to be sick. I rolled my eyes as I asked him to take me to his bedroom; I figured that would get his attention real quick. He pointed to the stairs, and I held onto him, trying to hold him up as he tripped up each step. We finally made it to the top as I saw a bathroom on the left. He didn’t make it. He vomited all over his clothes. I shook my head for this was a sight that was all too familiar to me.
I hurried him to the bathroom where he leaned over and hugged the porcelain of god for a good hour. I stood there admiring the beauty of his bathroom. The taupe walls and black granite countertops gave it a classic, but luxurious look.
I found a washcloth and ran it under lukewarm water. I walked over to him as he sat against the wall with his head down. He smelled liked vomit, and I had to get him to change his clothes.
“Come on buddy; let’s see if we can get you changed.” I put his arm around me and with a little help from him; I lifted him off the floor. We made it down the hallway to his bedroom. I opened the double doors that led inside and gasped; his bedroom was bigger than my entire apartment. I took him over to the king size bed and sat him down.
“Are you an angel?” he slurred as he gently rubbed my cheek. His skin felt warm, and his touch felt nice, too nice as it gave me tiny goose bumps.
I took his hand away, “Yeah, I guess I am.”
He drunkenly smiled and fell back on the bed. I knew this was going to take some work, trying to get his clothes off, but I could not let him sit in his own vomit all night. I took his shoes and socks off first. I climbed on top so I was straddling him and unbuttoned his shirt, rolling him from side to side taking his arms out. It probably would have been easier to take his shirt off in the bathroom, but I didn’t think about that. I moved down to the button on his pants; oh god I cannot believe I’m doing this. My thought was, just to let him lie there and sleep it off, but his pants received the worst of his vomit and he genuinely smelled. I unbuttoned his pants and lifted his hips so I could pull them off. It was a struggle, but I finally managed.
I could not help but look at his sculpted body as he laid there almost perfectly naked only in his black silk boxers. I’m only human, right? He was lean, muscular and perfectly defined from head to toe. I felt dirty standing over his passed out body checking him out, but no one should ever look like that perfect, it is just not right. I needed to move him up to his pillow. I put the cool cloth on his head, and he stirred. I grabbed under his arms and pulled him up the best I could. I turned him on his side in case he vomited again; a slight groan came from his mouth. I found a blanket, on a chair in the corner of his room, and covered him with it. I sighed and looked at the clock on the night stand; it read 1:00 am.
I was exhausted and desperately needing some sleep. It was then I realized I never told Peyton I was leaving. I ran down the stairs and grabbed my purse off the table. I took out my phone and saw a text message from her.
“Frankie told me what you’re doing, and I know you like to play Good Samaritan, but I’m worried, text me.” I quickly replied.
“I’m fine; I managed to get him home, and he is passed out on his bed. I’m heading home now; I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I stood in the hallway and looked at the stairs. Memories were flooding my mind as I had to walk back to his room to check on him one last time. He had rolled on his back, so I rolled him back on his side. His bed was so comfortable that I decided to sit next to him and make sure he stayed on his side the rest of the night. Then maybe get a little bit of sleep.
I awoke from a dream I had about my father. I quickly sat up, but my brain had not fully registered where I was. I scanned the room and looked over at him sleeping peacefully. I shook my head in disbelief that I fell asleep for so long as I made my way to the bathroom. I splashed some water on my face and downed some mouthwash I found in his cabinet. I ran my fingers through my hair and headed downstairs. I should have just left right then and there, but I needed coffee, and so would he when we woke up.
I walked to the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks. The mahogany cabinets topped with dark grey granite counter tops were utterly stunning. A large curved island sat in the middle of the kitchen with a built-in stove on one side, as three stainless steel ovens were built-in opposite the other wall. I found what I needed and made a pot of coffee. I had a recipe for a hangover cocktail that I used to make my dad every day. I scanned the kitchen and surprisingly enough, it had everything I needed to make one. I had my back turned to the doorway, making the hangover cocktail, when I heard someone clear their throat. I was startled, and I slowly turned around.
He stood in the middle of the kitchen in a pair of black pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips outlining his muscular form. I gulped at the site of him standing there, hung over and still looking as incredible as he did last night. He looked at me and cocked his head to one side.
“Did I not go over the rules with you last night?
“Huh?” I frowned.
“I don’t do sleepovers. You were supposed to leave after I f*cked you; so would you mind telling me why you’re still here, in my kitchen, making yourself comfortable?”
His tone was arrogant and crude, obviously he did not remember anything from last night, but I didn’t expect he would. His green eyes looked dark and angry, but he’ll have to get over it; I didn’t have time for this. I set the glass with the hangover drink on the counter and slid it to him. He narrowed his eyes at me.
“I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes, “Listen buddy; I don’t know what you think happened last night, but you didn’t f*ck me; I would never give you the pleasure; trust me.” Ok, I was lying, I would have given him the pleasure, but he didn’t need to know that. He cocked his head and stared at me narrowing his eyes.
“You drank yourself into oblivion at the club last night, and they kicked you out. I was walking outside when it happened and being the good person I am; I called a cab to make sure you got home safely. Then you proceeded to vomit all over yourself, so I had to get you to the bathroom and out of your clothes, because frankly, you smelled.” He raised his eyebrows.
“I was on my way out the door when I decided to check on you one more time. I went back to your room and you were lying on your back, so I rolled you on your side again in case you vomited; I would not have wanted you to choke to death.” He shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “I fell asleep from exhaustion after dealing with you, and when I woke up I decided to make you a pot of coffee and a hangover cocktail. I was leaving in a few minutes, and I did not expect you to be up for at least a few more hours.”
He took a few steps closer, “So, you’re telling me nothing happened between us?” I rolled my eyes, didn’t this man listen to a word I just said.
“No, nothing happened; I just needed to make sure you were going to be ok; you were obnoxiously drunk,” I looked down.
“What is this?” he asked as he picked up the glass.
“Just drink it; you will start to feel better in about 15 minutes. I’ll pour you some coffee and be on my way.”
I started to feel a little dizzy as I reached for a mug and it slipped out of my hands crashing to the floor.
“F*ck,” I said as I bent down to pick up the broken pieces.
“Hey, you’re going to cut yourself,” he walked over to me and bent down.
“I’m sorry,” I said shaking my head and picking up the broken porcelain.
“Stop!” his voice commanded.
His voice was startling, but I didn’t listen because it was my mess and I was going to clean it up. He grabbed my hands and turned them over taking the broken pieces out of them. Our eyes met when he saw the scars on my wrists. I pulled back quickly and stood up. He continued to pick up the pieces. I took my purse from the counter.
“I’m sorry again for the mug. I’ll replace it for you, and I hope you feel better.” I turned and headed out the kitchen.
“Wait,” I heard him say.
I turned around and looked at him. “At least let me pay you for your trouble last night.”
“I’m not taking your money, and it was no trouble.” Ok, it was, but he is alive, and I feel better knowing that I probably saved his life. He rolled his eyes, “Then at least have a cup of coffee before you go.” I sighed. I seriously needed it, and one cup wouldn’t hurt.
“Fine, one cup and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
He walked back to the kitchen and put the cup on the island. He drank his cocktail and frowned the entire time. It was fun to watch the disgusted look on his face. He leaned over the counter and looked at me.
“Why on earth would you help me like that? What if I was a rapist or murderer?”
I laughed, “You couldn’t rape or murder me even if you wanted to. You were so far gone last night; I could barely get you home.” He ran one hand through his hair.
“You should not be doing those kinds of things; it is not safe in this city for a girl to be doing shit like that.” He seemed agitated.
I leaned my elbow on the counter, rested my hand on my cheek, and looked at him intently as he lectured me. He stopped what he was saying and narrowed his eyes at me, “Are you even listening to me?”
I laughed as I got up from the stool, “Thanks for the coffee, but I must go now; I need to get home.” I grabbed my purse and started walking out of the kitchen.
“Have a lovely day Mr. Black and next time don’t drink so much.” I could hear his footsteps following behind.
“Would you mind telling me your name?” The elevator doors opened; I stepped in and turned to face him.
“It’s Ellery Lane,” I yelled as the door began to close.