Page 66 of Ruthless Mr. Ricco

“I shouldn’t have drank that so quickly.I do not feel well,” she mumbles.

Concern forms a ball of queasiness in my stomach.I wrap my arm around her and cup her elbow, offering her more support while ushering her forward faster.

We rush past several people.I do not return their greeting.Brook’s pale complexion compounds my worry.

“Almost there, little rabbit,” I murmur.

She nods but winces and stops.

I ensured she ate at the office, albeit in between orgasms.Her stomach has food in it still.One glass of champagne shouldn’t affect her this much, even if her tolerance is nearly nonexistent.Maybe she has an aversion since last time I’m sure she was also drugged.Or maybe she’s sick.She hasn’t spoken about her medical test results from last week, but I was incorrect to assume she’d have told me if something was wrong.My little rabbit has been too strong for too long.She’s right; asking for help will be a chore for her.

She can’t be sick.I need her healthy and whole so she can enact her revenge and live a long, happy life by my side.

I cut off my frantic thoughts and turn into the woman’s restroom.She digs in her heels and shoves the heel of her palm against my chest.

“Stay in the hall.I’ll be fine.Five minutes,” she demands.

“Brook—”

“Once was enough.I can hold my own hair back.”At the mention of our first morning together after a ten-year hiatus, my gut lurches.I don’t want to go back to where we were then.I want her to trust me.“Just give me five minutes,” she pleads.

Pleads.My little rabbit aims desperate, glazed yet firm eyes up at me.

This is not how I wanted her to beg me.

I swallow my misgivings and step back.

She stumbles around the corner and pushes through the door.

I shuffle back into the hall and lean against the wall straight across from the restrooms.The seconds lag as my impatience and worry grows.I check my watch every other breath.Nausea swirls in my gut.

Maybe we drank from a bad bottle of champagne.Waves of sickly heat roll up from my toes, but I refuse to leave my perch until Brook returns.

Sweat beads down from my temples.

I flag down an impeccably dressed older woman.

“Would you mind checking on my girlfriend, please?She wasn’t feeling well,” I say.

“Of course.What’s her name?”she asks.

“Brook Simons.”

The world tilts as the lady pats my arm.

“You’re a good boyfriend.I’m sure she’s fine,” she says.

I nod.

My vision fractures.

Brook is in the bathroom.The lights in the hall are too bright.

A familiar silhouette turns into the hall from the opposite side of the building to the ballroom.I squint and check my watch again.My head weighs a million pounds.

“Mr.Ricco, I’m so glad I found you.”

Ms.Lynn slips her hand into the crook of my arm.