The harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room burned through Gianna's closed eyelids.
She groaned and turned her head. The pillow was stiff and smelled like bleach. Her throat felt like it was coated in dry sand.
She forced her eyes open.
A man was standing at the foot of her hospital bed. He was tall, dressed in a dark suit that looked entirely out of place in the sterile room. His hands were tucked into his pockets.
It was the man from the alley.
Gianna's breath hitched. She pushed her hands against the mattress and scrambled backward until her back hit the headboard.
"Who are you?" Gianna asked. Her voice cracked.
Algot did not move. His dark eyes studied her face with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
A doctor walked into the cubicle, holding a clipboard.
"You are awake," the doctor said. "You had a mild dose of a date-rape drug in your system. We flushed it out with IV fluids. You just need to rest."
"Is she going to have any lasting effects?" Algot asked.
Gianna looked at him, surprised. His voice was smooth, but it carried a weight that demanded answers.
"No," the doctor said. "She was lucky she did not ingest more. She can be discharged soon."
The doctor left. The silence in the room grew heavy.
Alex Stone walked in. He held a clear plastic bag containing Gianna's purse and her ID card.
Alex handed the bag to Algot. Algot looked down through the plastic. He saw the driver's license.
Gianna Romero.
Algot's thumb brushed over the plastic right above her name. A muscle feathered in his jaw.
He turned his head slightly toward Alex.
"I need a full background check on her," Algot said, his voice so low Gianna almost did not hear it. "Everything. Focus on her medical history and any connection to the Conrad family."
Alex nodded once and stepped out of the cubicle.
Algot walked around to the side of the bed. He picked up a plastic cup of water from the tray table and held it out to her.
Gianna hesitated, then took it. Her fingers brushed against his. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm. She pulled her hand back quickly, spilling a few drops of water on her blanket.
"I am just a guy who was in the right alley at the right time," Algot said. It was an answer to her earlier question.
Gianna took a slow sip of the water. The memories of the car ride crashed into her brain. The heat. The desperate touching. His fingers.
A deep, burning flush crept up her neck and covered her cheeks. She looked down at her lap, unable to meet his eyes.
"Thank you," Gianna mumbled. "For getting me out of there."
"Who drugged you?" Algot asked. The question was flat, but it felt like an interrogation.
Gianna gripped the plastic cup tightly. The plastic crinkled under her fingers.
"It was a business dinner," Gianna said carefully. "My agent set it up. It went wrong."
Algot watched her. He saw the way her knuckles turned white. He knew she was holding back, but he did not push.
"What do you do for a living?" Gianna asked, trying to shift the focus away from herself.
"I run a business," Algot said.
Gianna looked at his expensive suit, his custom watch, and the cold authority in his posture. He did not look like a regular businessman. He looked dangerous.
Algot's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and walked toward the curtained doorway.
Gianna strained her ears.
"Sir," Alex's voice came through the phone. "I'm still digging, but initial records show she is Desi Conrad's eldest daughter. There are rumors floating about a marriage arrangement with our family - something about Prescott."
Algot stood perfectly still. He looked back over his shoulder at Gianna sitting in the hospital bed.
"Keep digging," Algot said quietly. "I want the full picture before I make any decisions."
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He walked back to the bed.
"Have you ever heard of the Vaughn family?" Algot asked casually.
Gianna's stomach dropped. Her heart skipped a beat. Why was he asking about them?
She forced her face to remain blank.
"I have heard the name," Gianna lied smoothly. "They have a lot of money, right?"
Algot stared at her. He saw the tiny pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat. She was lying.
"Right," Algot said softly.
"I want to go home," Gianna said, pushing the blankets off her legs. "I hate hospitals."
"I will drive you," Algot said.
Gianna wanted to say no. She wanted to run away from this man who made her feel entirely too exposed. But her legs were still shaking, and she had no money for a cab.
She nodded.
The ride to her apartment was silent. Gianna sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. Every time the streetlights illuminated the inside of the car, she stole a glance at his sharp profile.
He pulled up to the curb outside her rundown apartment building.
Gianna opened the door and stepped out. The cold air felt good. She turned back to look at him.
"I never got your name," Gianna said.
Algot did not answer. He just looked at her for a long moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then he pressed a button, and the tinted window rolled up, cutting off her view.
The black car pulled away from the curb, leaving Gianna standing alone on the sidewalk, her heart pounding in her chest.
