His Personal Assistant

35. | Roofied

Naomi's head falls to rest on my shoulder. "Naomi, what are you—" I look at her, finding her unconscious. "Hey, Naomi?" Panic starts to set in. "Naomi?!" I move away from her, but she falls against me. I rapidly tap at her face. "Naomi, wake up!"

"Shit." I hear Damian say before the two are jumping up.

"Water. Someone get us water!" Simpson yells.

A water bottle is being handed to me and I take off the cap, lifting it to her lips. "Come on, Naomi. Drink." She stirs, ever so slightly, and I exhale in relief.

I scooch away, carefully laying her down on the booth. Sliding around, I climb out from the other side and carefully pick her up. I brush her hair away, cupping her face. "Naomi? Can you open your eyes? Look at me?"

She doesn't respond, her body starting to fall back again. She's still breathing, so she's alive.

"Is she okay?" Simpson asks.

"I need to get her home." I pull her up into my arms, her head against my chest.

Damian nods. "Here, go out the back, so you don't have to go through the crowd." He leads me to a back exit and I take it, walking down the stairs to the exit outside. I push it open with my back and carry her to the car.

My driver opens the backseat for me and I lay her down in the backseat. "Her house." He nods, driving off as I lay her head in my lap.

Once at her house, my driver opens her door and I thank him, carrying Naomi up the stairs to her bedroom. I lay her down on her bed, tucking her in as she groans.

"Naomi?" I whisper.

She giggles, intoxicated. "You sound funny." She slurs. She sighs, her arms falling over her face. "Mm... Why does the world hate me?" She whispers.

"The world doesn't hate you." I whisper back to her, sitting down beside her.

"Mm... My parents are dead... My boyfriend wants to go public... My aunt wants my house." She mutters, her voice breathy, barely hearable.

"You can't make everyone happy, Naomi." She grunts as she flips over, her stomach on the bed and her face in the pillow. Her breathing slows not long after, and I sigh. At least she seems to be doing okay.

I walk around her bed and climb in beside her. I wrap my arm around her lower back under the cover, deciding to get some sleep of my own.

I'll have to talk and apologize to Simpson and Damian at some point. For now, I'm not too worried about it.

Waking up, my head pounds. I've got to stop waking up this way.

I look around, realizing I'm in my bedroom. How did I get here? I feel something tighten around my waist.

What the—

I look over my shoulder but relax when I realize it's just Rhys. I run my hands over my face before I attempt to get up. But I fail, his arm tightening around me.

I grunt. "Rhys." I call. He doesn't respond. I go to get up again, but he pins me. "Rhys, I need to get up." He shakes his head. I exhale, frustrated. I roll away from him until I fall off the bed. I grunt before standing up.

Thank god my bed isn't very far off the ground.

"I'm not going to continue doing that." I glare at him. He stares tiredly at me. "I need tylenol." I mumble.

"Top drawer." I narrow my eyes, opening my nightstand. A bottle of tylenol sits inside and I grab it, taking out two pills.

"Did I get wasted last night?" That's what it feels like. I don't remember anything from last night. I sit down on my bed, my legs on top as I swallow the pills.

"Naomi..." Rhys sits up, a somber look on his face. Dread pools in my stomach. What does he want to tell me? "Last night, you were roofied."

My heart drops. "What?"

"You passed out not long after I brought you back to the table. I think...when that guy was coming onto you, he slipped something into your drink." He explains.

My breathing turns heavy. "I could've been raped?" I whisper, my heart pounding in my ears.

"Don't focus on that. Focus on now. You're okay. No one's going to hurt you." He pushes my hair out of my face.

"God, the world really does hate me." I mutter. Or I just have really bad luck.

"That's not true." He argues.

I turn to him. "Really?" It's a rhetorical question. "Because both my parents are dead, my aunt is trying to steal my house, I was roofied, and I was in a shooting."

"Wait, slow down. Your aunt wants your house?"

"Yep. She wanted to go over my father's will so she could get the house." I scoff, shaking my head. "Her first mistake was thinking I'd agree."

"Brittany wants your house?"

My head snaps to him. "What? No. My aunt Jenna." I roll my eyes. "Brittany's too rich to go for my house. I'm good for now." I need to check the mail in case Jenna is actually taking me to court.

I climb off the bed and walk out of my room. Walking to my front door, I walk out to my mailbox and grab the envelopes from inside. As I amble back inside, Rhys comes down the stairs.

I skim through until I find an envelope addressed from Aunt Jenna. Tossing the others down on the end table beside my door, I all but rip it open, unfolding the paper.

I didn't want it to come to this, but like you said, if I want the house, take you to court. So I am. That house won't be in your name much longer. My suggestion? Pack your things so you don't have to worry about it later. I'm sorry it had to come to this, but me and my family need this house. I apologize.

-Aunt Jenna

I scoff, tossing the paper down. Even Aunt Brit is better than this.

"What is it?" Rhys asks.

I press my hands to my hips as I look up at him. "I'm gonna need a lawyer. A damn good one."