Condemned to an unhappy marriage by her father Emerald Davidson finds herself in quite the shitty situation, only to find help from someone who's no better. She trades one deal for another, but is oblivious to what that other deal is exactly until i...
Sometimes a deal with the devil is better than no deal at all.
- Lawrence Hill
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Despite myself a loud yawn escaped my lips as I pulled my knees up and nestled a little further into the leather lounge chair I was sitting in.
Here I was, waiting for a doctor in a red hot sexy dress and sky-high heels to take care of the gunshot wound of a remote stranger, in a house I had never been in before, at 3 AM.
This was not how I had intended to end my night at all.
House wasn't even the right word for the place. Mansion was more like it. The interior of the study I was in alone was probably worth more than Dan's entire apartment, and I had climbed four stairs to get here. Here being the south wing - according to the lovely old lady that had escorted me. She had also shown me a lavishly decorated bedroom with a queensize bed and a carpet that made you feel like you were walking on clouds, but there was no way I was going to be able to sleep until I knew a least a little bit about why I was here.
Emerald is coming as well, she's staying for the night. Riva had muttered it right before passing out in the doctor's and mine arms and being carried towards their car to drive here, but he hadn't specified a reason. Maybe he needed me as an eye witness for a police report. I could have easily just given them my number for that, then. It wasn't like I wasn't willing to testify against Ian. With a little bit of luck he'd even get locked up and I'd be able to postpone the wedding. Not that Ian's father would ever allow him to stay behind bars for long, of course. Bummer.
My eyes fell on a globe on a side table next to the huge bookcase that was covering the entire wall behind the desk. I recognized it as a similar model to the one I had given my father for Christmas last year, though this one was twice the size and looked ten times more expensive. The things doubled as a mini bar.
Pondering whether or not I was overstaying my welcome if I poured myself a drink I slowly pushed myself up from the chair to walk to the corner. A drink did sound good. My brain was basically begging me for a glass of something strong and calming, and while the nice old lady had said I could ring her anytime, I wasn't even sure how to and didn't really want to bother her.
As soon as I opened it my eyes fell on a bottle of Hibiki, a whiskey brand I recognized from the movie Lost in Translation. If I wasn't mistaking it was Japanese, so naturally I had never tried it before, but I was willing to give it a shot. Whiskey was strong, and the smell alone caused my head to clear up. Filling my glass halfway I turned around to take a look at the bookcase from up close.
"See anything you like?"
A soft squeal left my lips at the sudden voice and I had to catch my glass again mid-air to keep it from crashing to the ground.
