Pain. I woke to pain radiating all over. This wasn't the same emotional pain I'd experienced when Julian confessed the truth to me, or the feeling of having my heart broken because I was manipulated. No, this pain was physical. It was like someone was kicking at my skull, then drilling a hole in it.
I carefully opened my eyes and felt pain again. Bright light poured into my eyes, burning my pupils. I had to shut them again. My body felt like a million needles had pierced through it. My throat felt like cracked earth that hadn’t been watered for centuries.
I grouchily sat up, peeling my eyes open again. My clothes were no longer on my body. Instead, I was dressed in my favorite white silk pajama gown. Glancing to the side, Chloe, my maid, smiled at me. Which meant I was in my own bedroom, with a hangover.
But who took me home? Last night, the only memory I had was hugging a toilet bowl and spewing all my food.
“Chloe, water.” I rasped out like an old lady out of breath.
Chloe bought a jug of water to my side and poured a glass. It wasn't enough. I drank a bit more. It still didn’t clear my mind. I settled back into bed and closed my eyes until Chloe woke me again.
“Miss Kimmy. There are guests downstairs.”
“Guests?” I grouched, turning away.
“Yes, Miss Kimmy. And Sir said for you to make his favorite coffee for them when you awake.”
I whined. I was drowsy. Here I was having a hangover and I still couldn’t get out my morning routine. Making Papa his coffee.
“How many guests are there?” I rasped out.
“Just two.” Chloe smiled, shaking her head at my usual behavior.
“Two males?” I asked, half listening.
“Yes. One is an older gentleman. Another quite young. Possibly in his late twenties.
“Ughh.” I growled in annoyance and got up, tossing a jacket over my nightdress.
“Miss Kimmy, are you not getting changed first?” Chloe presented me with my morning attire, but I waved it aside.
“No need. The guests must be Clinton Silverton and Winton, his secretary. I’ll just make the coffee and get back into bed. No need to fuss with getting changed. My head still hurts. I’m just going to sleep for a bit more.”
Chloe looked like she was about to say something, but then said instead, “I’ll leave some paracetamol beside your bed.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. Padding down the stairs, half yawning, with bare feet, I went into the kitchen.
Papa must have invited his old business partners over again. Always on a Saturday morning. Once I was done with the coffee in the kitchen, I knocked on Papa’s study door and entered.
“Papa, here’s your coffee.” I smiled.
“Ah, come here, Kimmy-berry.” Papa led me into his office. “What’s wrong with your eyes? Why are they so red?”
That was the result of heavy drinking from the night before. Obviously, I couldn’t tell him that.
“Tired, Papa. Here’s your coffee. I’m going straight back to bed after this.”
“You do that, sweetheart.” Papa took the coffee from my hand, placed it on his desk, and smiled at me. Then he patted my head.
It was kind of embarrassing to be treated like a little girl, but since these guests of Papa's were like friends anyway, there was nothing to be shy about.
I smiled in return and picked up the next coffee cup on the tray. “And here’s one for you, Clint—”
I dropped the mug upon seeing that face, spilling the entire thing on my nightgown.
“Kimmy-berry, are you okay.” Papa stood and rushed over to help me. But he wasn’t fast enough. His guest, the one I’d intended to pass the coffee on to, came over first.
I looked up to meet steel-grey eyes and inky-black hair.
My hands trembled. My heart skipped a beat.
“Are you all right?” his deep baritone voice asked, a soft, sincere smile playing on his lips, like that time months ago when that smile alone captivated me.
“I’m fine,” I replied without looking at him, a deep, hot flush already settling on my face.
I whipped out of the room as fast as my feet could take me and settled back in the kitchen. I was still in a shaken state. And my nightdress was all wet. I dabbed it with tissue.
No way. There was no way he was here inside my house, let alone in Australia. He should have been in Miami, dominating his new company, firing people and restructuring Devereux Enterprises. It must have been my imagination.
But even if it wasn't, I didn’t wait to find out. I knew I wasn't over him. I could feel that infinite pull, just seeing a shadow of him. Wasn’t that what happened last night? I thought I saw him and panicked. No, impossible. It could never be him. Never.
I wiped my forehead with cold water, hoping to relieve the hot flush, and tossed the tissue into the bin, then rushed out the door. As I was about to turn the corner, I bumped into a wall of hard chest, a chest I knew so well, a chest I loved to touch and run my fingers over as we made love in the past.
I looked up and gazed at those steel-grey eyes.
“Hello, Kimberly. Did you miss me?” His baritone sent lust straight to my core.
“Ju-Julian,” I replied.
* * * * *