Adler | The Monarch & The Heirs BOOK 2.

Conspiracy | A FORTY TWO

A/N: Dedicated to @CandySitati9 and @tsinumi

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Andrea was in hell.

Excruciating pain throbbed against her skull and her heart was somehow lodged in her cranium by how there seemed to be something thumping behind her eyes. In attempting to open them, the sun was like acid, set to fry them to a crisp if she hadn't quickly squeezed them shut.

When Jeffrey had moaned about his hangovers, she'd figured he was just exaggerating but dear god, Andrea was fairly certain she was dying. Her throat was far too scorched and dry to cry out for help and then, she heard footsteps.

"Andrea?"

The voice had her body on instinct, ready to shoot up but remembering the pain, she was careful in rolling on her back to meet those gentle chestnut brown eyes. Slender frame shielding out the burning sun with its rays highlighting the concern on her features as she hovered over.

"Cassandra...?" She croaked out. No, that was not possible. God, wasn't this pain torment enough? What on earth was wrong with her brain to be thinking of those kinds of things at a time like this? Did it have no shame?

"Andrea, what's wrong?"

"Stop, go away. You're not real." Andrea grumbled as she ducked her head under the covers. She'd be crying at this point if she felt her body held any moisture to produce those tears wailing to spill.

The hallucination chuckled and it sounded just as sweet as the real one. "Okay, you definitely need more sleep."

Wait, something was undoubtedly amiss there. Andrea peeked again and goodness, did she look so vivid. So clear and pristine with her curls tied in a ponytail that draped her small shoulders. The beauty spot by her neck visible thanks to the open pearl blouse oddly familiar to an old pair Andrea herself owned—

"Holy fuck, Cassandra." She gasped and she knew her neck was going to punish for later for craning up so quickly. But this was just insane. "What, what are you...? How...?"

"Don't you remember how you got to your bed?"

Now at the mention, Andrea found that whole scenario in her mental film stream was blank. Reading her distress, Cassandra continued.

"You were kind of um, out of it. Your brother had you and he recognised me from earlier so he asked me to take you home. He wanted to do it himself but he still had his shift and decided not to risk getting fired so..."

Blurry, hazy images started to sharpen. Passed the throbbing headache, Andrea recalled Jeffrey rushing over to her in that worried voice like whenever Andrea cried. No doubt, that had all been cleared too. Cassandra's face was popping in a bit with that gut-wrenching pity eye in puddles. The ghost of that was still apparent from where she adjusted herself on the bedside.

And somehow, being in hell didn't seem so bad compared to this reality. If Cassandra was truly here, Andrea wanted to hope that the events last night had been what was false but no. Those were resurfacing now.

From the softness of Cassandra's curls along her fingertips, to her smooth thighs and the pink wrap dress hugged her breast in a way that drove Andrea crazy at just a touch. Then when she'd went and ruined everything, the sheer discomfort and flushed expression streaked on Cassandra's face. It was fear. Plain and simple and Andrea hated herself for feeling remotely hurt at it still.

Swallowing was having to push out an invisible boulder down her throat. Without the strain her voice drew out to make the words a trial to sputter out. "And... you slept over?"