I thank her for the info and finish getting ready.
Tonight’s event is at Spago, and we’re driven to the iconic Beverly Hills restaurant by the security detail. Photographers pounce the second we emerge from the car, but Flynn keeps a protective arm around me. Cameras record every second of our walk into the restaurant.
Many of the same people who were at the luncheon are at this party, and we make the rounds. Flynn gets me a glass of chardonnay and the passed hors d’oeuvres are delicious. But the more I eat and drink, the queasier I become. I’m also overheating.
We’re talking to Flynn’s partners, Jasper and Kristian, and I’m about to ask him if we can find a place to sit when my panties begin to buzz. I manage to suppress a gasp, take hold of his arm and try to stay focused on the conversation despite the vibrator pressed tight against my clit. I’m going to kill him for this.
“Are you okay, Natalie?” Jasper asks in a crisp British accent.
“I’m… It’s a little warm in here. Maybe we could sit?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Flynn guides me to a booth. When we’re seated, he leans in close to me. “Are you okay?”
“I feel weird—and not good weird.”
The buzzing stops immediately. “Define weird.”
“I don’t know. My head feels funny, I’ve had cramps all day, and now I feel sweaty, too.”
He leans in to kiss my forehead. “Holy crap, Nat. You’re burning up. Let’s get you out of here.”
“No! We don’t have to go. This is important to you.”
“The hell it is. We just had lunch with all these same people.”
“I don’t want to ruin your evening.”
“You’re not. I’m just sad it wasn’t the panties making you flush.” He smiles and winks and gets me out of there with the greatest of finesse. We leave through a different door than the one we came in and manage to escape the notice of the paparazzi on the way out, which is a relief. I can only imagine what they’d have to say about us leaving so soon after we arrived.
“Do you want to go home or back to the hotel?”
“We have to go to the hotel. Fluff is there.”
“I could have her brought home if you’d rather be there.”
“The hotel is fine.” I need a bed, and that one is closer. He holds me for the short ride back to the hotel. In the few minutes it takes to ride the elevator to our top-floor suite, I feel a hundred times worse. “Flynn…”
“What, honey?”
“I think I’m sick.”
“I’ll send for a doctor. Don’t worry about anything. It’s probably just a bug.”
“Don’t want you to get it.”
“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I never get sick.”
In the bedroom, Flynn gets me undressed and removes the panties. “We’ll save these for another time,” he says, tucking them into his suit coat pocket. He helps me into a regular pair of panties and pulls a T-shirt of his over my head. “Lie back and rest. I’ll see if they can get us a doctor.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’d so much rather be alone with you than in a room full of people, but I’m sorry you don’t feel well. We’ll get you fixed right up.” He kisses my forehead and goes into the other room to use the house phone. I fall asleep to the low rumble of his voice on the phone calling for help.
Chapter 12
I’m so hot. I have to be on fire. And then I’m freezing, my teeth chattering from the chills that torture me. Flynn pulls my hair back while I puke into what might be an ice bucket that he holds for me. My throat hurts too much to ask him what’s wrong with me. Whatever it is, I’ve never felt this bad in my life.
All I can do is sleep when I’m not puking.
Fluff is there, too, whimpering, but it takes more energy than I have to comfort her. I hear Flynn telling her that Mommy is sick. I’ll have to thank him for that when I can. He’s nice to her even after she bit him—again. I love him for that.
I fall back into a restless sleep filled with dreams about things I’d rather forget. I’m at the governor’s mansion, and Oren is there. He’s attacking me, hurting me. I’m screaming and crying and telling him to stop. I beg him to stop, but he doesn’t. Then Flynn’s mother is there, telling me it’ll be okay, that they’re taking care of me.
But Oren pushes her away and tells her to get out before he hurts her, too. I want to protect Stella, but I can’t move. My arms and legs are like lead pipes, refusing to follow my orders.
“Natalie.” Flynn’s voice breaks through the sound of my own screams. “Sweetheart, wake up. You’re dreaming.”
My eyelids seem to weigh a ton. I force my eyes open. He looks terrible. His hair is standing on end and his eyes are wild, as if he’s been awake for days.
“You were dreaming,” he says, wiping tears from my face. He kisses my forehead and both cheeks. “Do you think you can drink some water?”
I’m desperately thirsty, so I nod. Just that small movement sets off a painful blast in my skull that has me gasping.