I stood in front of my bathroom mirror the next morning, my head throbbing, my mouth painfully parched, and stared at my eyes smeared with liner and mascara. I tried to recall the night. Melly and I ended up drinking Tequila shots with the two guys. Oh no! I suddenly remembered dancing on the table. Oh, my God, the bartender had to help me down. And oh shit, I fell into his arms. I pressed my palms to my cheeks with shame. The whole pub had cheered and laughed.

I frowned. What happened after that?

I could vaguely remember telling Melly my knees wouldn’t work, and a hazy recollection of staggering out into the cool air. After that it was a complete blank. I couldn’t for the life of me remember how we got back to the castle, or how I got to bed.

I jumped at the sound of the intercom. It was my day off so really, I could ignore it, but what if it was Brett or something urgent? My head was killing me so I turned slowly and walked towards it.

The hammering in my head made it hard for me to even bear the bright light. On the other end was Melly.

“Hey,” she called.

“Please don’t shout,” I warned, holding my temples. My God, how could she sound so bright and cheerful?

“Uh … okay. What's wrong?”

“I’m just hungover. How did we end up back here?”

“Wait! You don’t remember?”

“The last thing I remember is … getting out of the pub.”

“Well that was what we did. We got into a taxi.”

“We did?”

“Yup … the taxi driver was about a hundred years old and you were flirting with him. Incoherently though.”

“And you let me …”

“I was drunk too.”

“It’s horrible that I can’t remember anything. I’m never drinking Tequila again.”

She laughed. “You should have done what I did. I took two headache tablets before I went to sleep.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t.”

“Ah, it’s your day off. What does it matter? No harm done.”

I wanted to believe her that no harm had been done, but memories that I couldn’t quite get a grasp of fleeted around my consciousness. I ended the call, popped two headache tablets, then lay on my bed and tried to remember what had happened after I had arrived. I fell asleep and woke up again an hour later feeling more human again.

As I stripped off in the bathroom, though I looked down at myself and noted that something felt off. I felt sore between my legs … and strangely sated. As though … my heart lurched in my throat. Surely, nothing happened in the pub with the nice guy. No, I wouldn’t have. Anyway, I could remember everything until I staggered out of the pub.

I tore off my panties and examined them. Then to be sure, I brought them to my nose and sniffed, but it did not smell foreign. But the sensation between my legs.

I ran out of the bathroom and called Melly on the intercom, my heart pounding in my chest. “What happened with the guy I was dancing with?”

“Actually, you ditched him after a few drinks … something about his voice?”

“Are you sure I ditched him?”

“Yup.”

“Did I meet up with another guy?”

“Nope. By then you were pushing them all away with a stick you found on the floor.”

“I didn't leave your sight for even a moment, right?”

“You didn't. That much I remember. I wasn’t as drunk as you were, I remember everything.”

“Alright,” I said and ended the call.

Convincing myself to think nothing of my sensitive clit and sensation that something had happened, I headed into the shower and held my head under the running cascade. Maybe I had another wet dream.

I was soon dressed and on my way down the stairs.

I had only been really drunk three times in my life, but never ever so inebriated that I had suffered a complete blackout. Perhaps if I thought hard enough, whatever memories I couldn’t remember would return to me in fragments.

I was just about to take out a slice of bread from the toaster when Mrs. Blackmore walked into the kitchen. She was startled to see me.

“What are you doing here so early? Aren’t you supposed to be away?”

Her abrupt halt almost sent Mr. Boothsworth crashing into her. He quickly caught himself.

He smiled slyly. “Ah, you’re up? Rough night, wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

He laughed. “Don’t you remember? You were so drunk last night you almost tumbled down the stairs.”

My mouth dropped open because I had absolutely no memory.

“I would have caught you don’t worry,” he said. “Anyway, I helped you to your room.”

“What did I say?” I asked.

“You don’t remember?”

I shook my head.

He laughed. “The almighty black out. It’s been a few decades since any of those paid me a visit.”

Mrs. Blackmore looked at me with horror on her face. “Why were you that drunk?”

I shook my head in bewilderment. “You didn’t say much,” Barnaby responded. “You just mumbled that you needed to call Brett … I’m assuming you meant Mr. King.”

My eyes widened then in shock and so did Mrs. Blackmore’s. “Did you call him in that state?”

I slapped my hands to my head then, and turned away from the both of them. Jesus, my heart was hammering in my chest. “Of course not,” I answered automatically, but I knew it was a lie. Fragments of what I had done were already flooding back into my head.

“Well, you’ll never know,” Mr. Boothsworth said cheerfully.

I was so horrified I wanted to cry. I grabbed my slice of toast and began to stuff it down my throat without even buttering it.

“Make her something,” Mr. Boothsworth said.

Mrs. Blackmore came over to place her hands on my shoulders. Leading me towards the counter, she sat me down on a stool. “Does chicken soup sound good?”

I couldn’t speak. I just nodded with gratitude. At that moment the intercom buzzed. Mr. Boothsworth went to answer it.

“Sir …” he said.

I swear I stopped breathing.

“I’ll be right there,” he said as I forced my half-chewed food down my throat.

“Was that Mr. King?” I croaked.

“Yes, he’s just about to leave. I’ll go and see him off.”

I hurried to the window. A black Rolls Royce with tinted windows was waiting outside the front door. The window rolled down as Mr. Boothsworth hurried up to the car. I saw him at the window. He had his mask on. He spoke quietly to his butler.

I saw Mr. Boothsworth step away, and suddenly Brett slid his gaze over and looked directly at me. In a fraction of an instant another memory filled my head. Was it real? I couldn’t be sure, but I could feel the heat rushing up my throat and into my face. I nodded my head slightly in greeting and hoped he couldn’t see how red I was from that distance. The smile he gave me almost made my heart stop. Then the window rolled back up and he was driven away, as sleek as a dream.