Hidden Heiress Trapped in His Arms

"Have a drink, I'll be there soon," came Dave's, (Olivia's fiancé) voice over the phone, his tone gentle and reassuring. "I came here to see you. You know I don't drink," Olivia replied, glancing around nervously. This was her first time alone in a private room in a bar. In fact, it was her first time in a bar at all, given that she doesn't consume alcohol. "It's fine. Just order a nonalcoholic drink to keep you busy while you wait," he said, his voice persuasive enough to make her think it might not be a bad idea after all. "Okay, but when will you get here?" she asked, checking her watch with a furrowed brow. "In about thirty minutes. Sorry, I'm tied up at work. I'll be there as soon as I can," he assured her. The sincerity in his voice made Olivia smile. Feeling a bit more relaxed, she ordered a drink after the call ended. She specifically requested something nonalcoholic, confident there'd be no problem. She took a cautious sip, then another, until the glass was empty and she ordered another round. It was a decent way to pass the time, just as her fiancé had suggested, and the drink was pleasant enough. So she saw no reason to stop until, suddenly, her arms felt too heavy to lift the glass for another sip. Something wasn't right. Olivia set the glass down with a thud, spilling some of the drink onto the table. Her hands felt weak and shaky as she reached for her purse to get her phone. She grabbed her phone, but the weakness in her body slowed every movement, causing it to slip from her hand and land on the rug. As she bent down to retrieve it, the door to the private room swung open, and she saw two sets of feet entering. One of them seemed to be dragging across the floor, but she couldn't be sure if it was real or just her blurred vision playing tricks on her. With a surge of effort, she managed to grasp her phone and pull it up from the floor. But when she raised her head, a wave of dizziness hit her so hard that she almost collapsed. The door closed with a quiet click, and when she tried to unlock her phone, the screen seemed to double, then triple. The harder she tried to focus, the more her vision swam. A low moan escaped her lips as another wave of dizziness hit. She clutched her head, struggling to stay seated. The weakness didn't subside, and her head felt unbearably heavy. She was in trouble, but she couldn't quite piece together what was happening. "Help," she slurred, hoping the people she'd just seen might come to her aid, if they were real at all. A low groan echoed in the room, a sound that felt like a response. Her heart pounded as she strained to see through the haze. "Dave, is that you?" she called out, her voice shaky and unsure. No response came as every ounce of strength seemed to seep away from Olivia's trembling fingers. It felt like the air was being sucked out of the room, and whatever she thought she had heard was just her desperate hope for someone to be there. Tears welled up in her eyes, but they did nothing to make her vision blurrier than it already was. She slumped backward against the large sofa, feeling the weight of helplessness crushing her. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to call for help again, though her voice came out as little more than a whisper. Dave had told her this room was soundproof, assuring her she could sing as loud as she liked. But when she tried to scream, all she could manage was a faint croak. The only response was a pair of hands gripping her shoulders and warm pressure on her lips. The touch jolted her senses, but not in the way she expected. The room seemed to grow hotter, and she felt hands sliding across her body, venturing into places even her fiancé had never touched. A tongue pressed against her lips, seeking and finding its way inside. Panic surged through Olivia as she tried to break free, but her body wouldn't respond. She could barely curl into a fetal position, her limbs too weak to move. Another pair of hands roamed her body, the warmth in the room growing suffocatingly hot with each passing second. Everything felt wrong, and yet her mind was too foggy to make sense of it. She couldn't understand why this was happening. It couldn't be Dave; he had promised to wait until they were married and had respected her boundaries for nearly half a decade. This was something else—something dark and sinister. And as her consciousness faded, Olivia knew she was in grave danger, with no one to help her. Clenching her fists at the memories, Olivia growled with a surge of rage that made her blood feel like it was boiling. But then, a familiar scent wafted closer, and a gentle touch brushed against her forehead. "Wake up, sweetheart," a deep voice whispered, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. It was a voice she'd loved since her college years. In a reflexive response, she smiled, relaxing her clenched fists and wrapping her arm around his neck in a gentle hug. "Good morning, my love," she replied, but her voice was hoarse and rough. She opened her eyes in shock and pulled back, clearing her throat while avoiding his gaze. What had happened to her voice? "You caught a cold two days ago. The waiter must have gotten your drink wrong, and you were in a lot of pain when I found you in the private room," he said, touching her forehead with the back of his hand. "Just my luck," she murmured, recalling the disturbing dreams she'd had. "That's why I hate getting sick—it always brings bad nightmares." "How are you feeling now?" he asked, lifting her chin gently so their eyes met. She shrugged dramatically, then smiled as she realized she felt neither pain nor dizziness. "I actually feel pretty good, but how could I have been asleep for two days?" "I had my doctor come over, and he said you were just a bit sick and overdrunk. We could sue the waiter for serving you the wrong drink, if that's what you'd like," Dave said. Olivia considered it, then shook her head. The waitress had seemed so young and innocent; it might've just been an honest mistake. Suing someone who barely made enough to get by seemed harsh. "No, I don't want to sue. I don't even think you could sue someone for a simple error," she said, dismissing the idea lightly. "But you almost lost your life. Do you know how scared I was?" Dave asked, pulling her into a warm embrace. "I'm fine now. Don't exaggerate," she replied, patting his broad back. "I just need to be more careful with drinks." She laughed it off, but she missed the subtle grin of triumph on his face. If she'd seen it, she might've wondered if the wrong drink had really been a simple mistake, and whether it was worth investigating the waitress who served her.