My head pounded with a splitting headache as I blinked up at the ceiling. The grogginess of waking up had finally lifted, and the world around me sharpened into focus.
The ache on my wrists reminded me I'd been handcuffed, and the throbbing in my cheek echoed the memory of that slap.
"Good afternoon, Rowan," a voice chimed in, making me startle. I turned to see Armando, standing by the door with his arms crossed, his gaze icy. "You're late. You should've been at the office hours ago."
I squirmed against the restraints, irritation flaring in my chest. "You motherfuckers kidnapped me last night! What the hell do you expect me to fucking do? What's going on, and why am I still here?" I tugged at the handcuffs, noticing my wrists were still secured to the bedposts. "And why am I fucking cuffed like this?"
"Language, Mr. Chandler," he chided, stepping closer. "You were meant to be up by five. Mr. Rossi doesn't tolerate lateness, and by now, he expected you at the office."
"You've got to be fucking shitting me, Armando?!" I shot back, a half-crazed laugh bubbling up as I grasped the absurdity of his demand. I was late, sure-but it was their fault, not mine.
Yet, his tone lacked even a shred of humor, making the situation feel all the more infuriating.
He stood there, perfectly composed, his voice steady, like I wasn't chained to this fucking bed.
"The time is already past one," he said with that maddening calmness. "I've left some aspirin on the table for your headache." The casualness of his words grated on me, like nails on a chalkboard.
"Now, don't struggle," he added, his voice eerily even. "I've got the key."
"How the fuck did I end up here? Why am I like this?" I muttered, my voice hoarse and raw.
Armando's gaze was cold, unmoved by my confusion. "The boss brought you back last night after you collapsed. And as for why... well I think you're smart enough to know the answer to question, Mr. Chandler."
He raised a brow, stepping back once my wrists were free from the restraints.
I rubbed them gingerly, feeling the angry red marks left behind. My entire body ached, every muscle stiff and sore, as if I'd been thrown into a meat grinder.
The dull throb in my head made it hard to focus, but the details were slowly trickling back.
Glancing down, I noticed I was dressed in fresh clothes-someone else's doing.
