Her throat was unbelievably sore and her stomach felt just as bad. There was an IV taped to the back of her left hand, and a black paper had been taped over the window in her door.
Why was she here? What was going on?
Alex stirred, turning onto her side to find the call button, but before she could push it the door to her room opened. Wolf entered, carrying a cup of coffee.
He looked at her, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly. “You live.”
“Barely,” she croaked, watching him close the door and then approach her side.
He said nothing, and for a long moment neither did she, lying there against the stiff hospital pillow feeling fragile and strangely broken. She hurt, her insides hurt, and not knowing what had happened and not having anyone here but Wolf made her feel even more defenseless.
“Look at me. I don’t know what happened,” Alex whispered, vocal cords bruised. “Jason gave me a ride home to change so I could return to the party. While I was changing, he made us a drink and then—” She broke off, bit her cracked lower lip. “He … he … got weird.”
“You were screaming when I arrived,” Wolf finished roughly.
“I was scared.” She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath. “Thank you for coming to look for me.” Opening her eyes, she reached out, caught Wolf’s pinkie finger between two of hers. “You saved me.”
He said nothing, his head averted, his narrowed gaze fixed on the wall.
She tugged on his hand, trying to persuade him to look at her. “Thank you, Wolf.”
Slowly his head turned and he gazed down at her, a deep furrow between his thick brows, his dark eyes more black than brown. “What if I hadn’t come? What if I hadn’t left the party when I did?”
She stared up into his eyes. The black depths burned. But it wasn’t just anger blazing in his eyes. It was fear.
“But you did,” she whispered.
“If I’d been five minutes later—”
“But you weren’t.” She squeezed his hand. “Please, let’s forget about it.”
Wolf abruptly pulled away. He walked from the bed, went to the window, where he looked out. “Forget?”
“Yes, forget. Move on. There’s so much more that’s important—”
“Not to me.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “God, you’re so innocent! So naive. You were drugged. Attacked. You had an allergic reaction to the pharmaceutical cocktail he put in your drink. Alexandra.” His voice deepened, fell, vibrating with fury and outrage. “You could have died from the drugs alone.”
Her heart thumped. She felt dizzy all over again. “I only had a drink with him, Wolf. I wouldn’t take anything. I know it’s dangerous.”
“As we discovered.”
“Please believe me.”
He took a breath, his broad shoulders tensing, and then he exhaled in a slow, hard stream. “I believe you.”
“You do?”
He nodded slowly, rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Jason likes to mix pills with his liquor—cocaine and temazepam are favorites of his.” He fell silent a moment as he considered her. “Do you have family we should call? Someone I should contact?”
Her eyes widened. She shook her head. “There’s no one,” she whispered.
“You’ve no family?”
She stared up at him, terrified he’d discover the truth. No family? Alexandra had the most protective, overbearing family in the universe. “No.”
“Do you want me to get you legal counsel then?”
“Legal counsel for what?”
“Because you’ll want to press charges.”
She was beginning to wish she hadn’t woken up. This was too much, too overwhelming. “Do you want me to press charges?”
He exhaled in a harsh whoosh. “I don’t know. I just want to beat the hell out of him. Want to make him—” He broke off, his beard-darkened jaw jutting tautly.
“Wolf, you could destroy him,” breathed Alex. “And whatever he did, I don’t want that.”
He towered above her, his dark eyes frosted with ice, his features glacier-cold. “I would not be a man if I stood by and allowed him to go unpunished for hurting you.”
“I won’t let you! Someone has to think about your reputation. The press.”
Wolf made a harsh sound in the back of his throat. “Press? You want to talk about press?” He laughed, but the sound was like fingernails down a chalkboard. “Alexandra, it’s a little late to worry about bad press.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re the topic of this morning’s talk radio, and there was a blurb in the gossip section of the morning paper, too.” He leaned over, kissed her forehead, his lips warm against the iciness of her skin. “And I can guarantee we’ll be all over the news segments on the entertainment shows tonight,” he murmured.
His words made her go numb all over. “What are they saying?”
“They’re reporting that you were hospitalized for a drug overdose.”
Her gaze lifted, found his. “What?”
“A photographer caught the ambulance wheeling you out of your house.” He sighed. “The photo has me right there at your side.”
“What is the paper saying?”
“You don’t want to know.”
She’d begun to tremble. “Tell me.”
He hesitated so long she wasn’t sure he would. And then he took her hand, lifted it to his mouth and kissed the backs of her fingers. “That you tried to kill yourself.”
“Oh, my God.”
His silence was deafening, and Alexandra closed her eyes, shrinking inwardly. All their joint efforts, everything they’d tried to do … gone.
Over.
“And this was in the paper?” she asked, imagining the reaction her family would have if they got word of this.
“Today’s Los Angeles Times.”
She exhaled gradually, trying to calm herself. If it was just the Los Angeles Times, maybe none of her family would hear. None of her brothers lived in L.A. anymore.
“And USA Today,” Wolf added quietly.
Her stomach heaved. Her throat sealed closed. USA Today was a huge national paper. “No.”
“No is right. Our publicity-stunt relationship has made headline news.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY KEPT ALEXANDRA for most of the day to give her sufficient opportunity to rest and recover. They would have kept her overnight again but Wolf feared that the media frenzy outside would only grow if she wasn’t discharged.
The hospital administration, as fed up with the paparazzi as Wolf, allowed Alexandra to exit the hospital late that evening from a side door into the waiting limousine, avoiding the main entrance where photographers and reporters still lurked.
“You’re not taking me home?” Alexandra said as the limousine left UCLA’s medical center, traveled down Wilshire Boulevard to the 405 Freeway on-ramp.
“Not with those vultures