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“Yeah?”

“Are you okay now?”

“Of course I'm okay. Why do you ask, Honey?”

I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my plate. As I poked at my food, I softly said, “Because you were sick before and now you seem better.”

“That's because I am better, Poppy. People get sick, and then they get better. You've been sick before, right?” I nodded yes. “And now you're better, right?” I nodded again. “See. So, there's nothing to worry about.”

“What about your medicine? I haven't seen you take it at all. Do you not need it anymore?” I asked.

“Look, Poppy, life is going to be much better now. I'm perfectly healthy, and I don't want you to worry about me anymore. Now, eat your food. We have some shopping to do.”

We spent the day going from shop to shop. I tried on dresses and big, fancy hats. My mother found a beautiful yellow silkscarf. She wrapped it around her head, making her look like Audrey Hepburn.

It was late when we got back to the hotel. My belly was full from dinner, and I was tired. My mother tucked me in the bed, kissed my forehead, and told me to get some sleep because she had a surprise for me for tomorrow. She wouldn't tell me what it was even though I asked a dozen times.

I remember her sitting in the chair by the window, drinking a glass of wine as she looked out over the canal. I was half asleep. My eyes kept blinking longer and longer as sleep stole me away. I was happy. It was the only time I remember being truly happy. My mother was right. We were on the most incredible trip of our lives. One day, I would look back and remember our adventure.

BANG!

* * * *

I shot up straight. Sweat poured down my temples, and my heart beat like a rabid, caged animal. My eyes darted around the room. The fan was still rotating at a dying speed, doing nothing to circulate the stuffy air. I raked my fingers through my hair as I exhaled.

That fucking dream. I hate that fucking dream.

“I thought you were going to sleep for days,” a man's voice said from behind me.

I whipped around to see a figure sitting on the stool in the corner. The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the top of his knees as he glared at me.

“You,” I said.

“Me.” The man gave me a playful smirk, but it felt more devilish than anything else.

It was the stranger from the bar. He wasn't in his suit anymore. The man wore a fitted navy blue shirt with jeans andblack boots. His hair was messy, unlike the nicely combed and manicured look at the gala.

His eyes were dark as he peered at me from across the room, but he said nothing more. No explanation. No, “I'm sorry. I made a mistake.” No, “I fucked up. Let me take you home.” He said nothing.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I'm not doing anything.” He opened and closed his hands casually with a smug look. “I was just sitting here waiting on sleeping beauty to wake up.”

“Don't be a fucking asshole. You know what I'm talking about. You kidnapped me. I don't think most people would call that nothing.” I pushed myself up off the floor.

“I'm not most people,” he said.

“I want to go home.” I walked to the door and pointed. “Open this damn door and let me out now,” I demanded.

“I'm sorry, but I can't do that.”

“Yes, you can, and you will. Let me out of here.”

“I can't.”

“This is fucking bullshit.” I stormed over to him, my back straight as an arrow. “I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but I don't want any part of it. If you think I'm going to let you fuck me—”

“Don't be so full of yourself. I didn't bring you here to fuck you. I wouldn't need to kidnap you for that. I had my fingers inside you less than an hour after meeting you. I wouldn't need to be this extravagant to fuck you.”