Unsteady Ground
1083 Words
The effects of the drug still coursed through Roxanne’s veins, setting her body ablaze with unnatural heat. She squirmed in the passenger seat, rubbing at her skin as though she could shake off the fire consuming her. The cool night air did nothing to soothe her feverish state.
Ares clenched his jaw, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he drove. He had seen this before—this type of drug was meant to take away control, to turn someone into a helpless puppet. He had no patience for men who used it. His fingers itched to break the bastard who had dared to drug her, but that would have to wait. Right now, she needed help.
“Lily,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “You need to breathe.”
She turned her head toward him, her pupils dilated, her lips slightly parted as though she had forgotten how to do just that. “Ares… it’s too hot. I can’t—”
He pulled into the underground parking of his penthouse and swiftly exited the car. Before she could stumble out on her own, he was already at her side, scooping her up into his arms. She weakly resisted, mumbling something incoherent, but the drug had sapped too much of her strength.
By the time they reached his apartment, Roxanne was barely holding onto consciousness. He laid her down on the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements. She turned her face into the pillows, her breathing unsteady.
He stepped back, running a hand through his hair. She needed help—but not from him.
Ares pulled out his phone and dialed a number. It rang twice before a cool, female voice answered. “Didn’t expect a call from you at this hour.”
“I need you to come over. Now.”
A slight pause. “What kind of trouble are we talking about?”
“A woman. Drugged. She needs care.”
A sigh. “I’m on my way.”
He ended the call and turned back to Roxanne. She shifted on the bed, gripping the sheets with trembling fingers. The fabric of her clothes stuck to her damp skin, and a soft whimper escaped her lips.
Ares exhaled through his nose, willing himself to remain impassive. He grabbed a cold towel from the bathroom, walking back to her side. “This will help.” He pressed it gently to her forehead, then to her wrists and neck, trying to cool her down without making her uncomfortable.
She blinked up at him, her gaze hazy. “You’re…different,” she murmured.
He arched his brow. “How so?”
“You’re not touching me.”
Ares let out a low chuckle. “Would you prefer if I did?”
She hummed, her lips curving slightly, but then her expression twisted. A flicker of something—fear, vulnerability—flashed in her eyes. “No,” she admitted. “Most men would have.”
A knock at the door saved him from having to respond. He rose, moving swiftly to let his contact in. The woman, Elena, stepped inside, her sharp gaze sweeping over Roxanne’s form.
“She’ll be fine,” Elena assured him as she moved to assess Roxanne’s condition. “She just needs to sleep this off.”
Ares nodded and stepped aside, watching as Elena worked. He should leave now, give them space. But something kept him rooted to the spot.
As if sensing his presence, Roxanne turned her head slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Ares…”
He stilled. “Yeah?”
Her eyelids fluttered. “Thank you.”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly, “Get some rest.”
As she drifted into sleep, Ares leaned against the wall, arms crossed. She had no idea how much danger she had been in tonight.
But she would soon.
By 9 a.m., Roxanne awoke with a heavy feeling in her head. The room was quiet, the air cool against her bare skin. She pulled the covers over herself, her cheeks heating as fragments of the previous night surfaced in her mind. She was alone.
Her heart pounded as she slowly sat up, realizing she had no clothes on. She covered her reddened face with her hands, embarrassed beyond words.
She had been drugged. Ares had helped her. But had he—?
Her breath caught in her throat, and she quickly scanned the room. A neatly folded dress sat on a chair, along with a fresh set of undergarments. She hesitated before reaching for them, noticing how perfectly they fit when she tried them on. Ares had been considerate.
Still, the thought of facing him again made her stomach twist. She wouldn’t be setting foot in Victoria Crimson anytime soon.
With a sigh, she cursed the vile man who had slipped the pill into her whiskey. If only she could remember his face, she would have pressed charges. But her memory of the night was fragmented, hazy at best.
Ares had left no contact information. Though he had seemed open, he remained a mystery to her. She had no idea how to properly express her gratitude.
Wrapping herself in a light blanket, she made her way to the bathroom. As she soaked in warm water, her mind drifted. The heat eased her still-dizzy head, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the man who had helped her. Who was he, really?
After getting dressed in the light blue off-shoulder maxi dress he had provided, she checked the time. Late. Too late.
Her bag—her phone, her wallet—was still in her car at Victoria Crimson. She had been so careless.
After breakfast and taking a laxative to flush out any remnants of the drug, Roxanne checked out of the hotel and approached the reception desk. “Do you have any contact information for Ares?” she asked hesitantly.
The receptionist gave her a knowing smile. “He arranged for a car and driver to take you back.”
Roxanne blinked in surprise. “He did?”
The woman nodded. “He left instructions to make sure you got home safely.”
Grateful, yet still unsettled by his actions, Roxanne made her way outside. A sleek black sedan awaited her at the lobby entrance. She let out a slow breath before sliding inside.
As the car pulled away, her thoughts were fixated on one thing—how would she ever repay him?
- Writer
