I walked to the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks. The mahogany cabinets topped with dark grey granite counter tops were utterly stunning. A large curved island sat in the middle of the kitchen with a built-in stove on one side, as three stainless steel ovens were built-in opposite the other wall. I found what I needed and made a pot of coffee. I had a recipe for a hangover cocktail that I used to make my dad every day. I scanned the kitchen and surprisingly enough, it had everything I needed to make one. I had my back turned to the doorway, making the hangover cocktail, when I heard someone clear their throat. I was startled, and I slowly turned around.

He stood in the middle of the kitchen in a pair of black pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips outlining his muscular form. I gulped at the site of him standing there, hung over and still looking as incredible as he did last night. He looked at me and cocked his head to one side.

“Did I not go over the rules with you last night?

“Huh?” I frowned.

“I don’t do sleepovers. You were supposed to leave after I fucked you; so would you mind telling me why you’re still here, in my kitchen, making yourself comfortable?”

His tone was arrogant and crude, obviously he did not remember anything from last night, but I didn’t expect he would. His green eyes looked dark and angry, but he’ll have to get over it; I didn’t have time for this. I set the glass with the hangover drink on the counter and slid it to him. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes, “Listen buddy; I don’t know what you think happened last night, but you didn’t fuck me; I would never give you the pleasure; trust me.” Ok, I was lying, I would have given him the pleasure, but he didn’t need to know that. He cocked his head and stared at me narrowing his eyes.

“You drank yourself into oblivion at the club last night, and they kicked you out. I was walking outside when it happened and being the good person I am; I called a cab to make sure you got home safely. Then you proceeded to vomit all over yourself, so I had to get you to the bathroom and out of your clothes, because frankly, you smelled.” He raised his eyebrows.

“I was on my way out the door when I decided to check on you one more time. I went back to your room and you were lying on your back, so I rolled you on your side again in case you vomited; I would not have wanted you to choke to death.” He shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “I fell asleep from exhaustion after dealing with you, and when I woke up I decided to make you a pot of coffee and a hangover cocktail. I was leaving in a few minutes, and I did not expect you to be up for at least a few more hours.”

He took a few steps closer, “So, you’re telling me nothing happened between us?” I rolled my eyes, didn’t this man listen to a word I just said.

“No, nothing happened; I just needed to make sure you were going to be ok; you were obnoxiously drunk,” I looked down.

“What is this?” he asked as he picked up the glass.

“Just drink it; you will start to feel better in about 15 minutes. I’ll pour you some coffee and be on my way.”

I started to feel a little dizzy as I reached for a mug and it slipped out of my hands crashing to the floor.

“Fuck,” I said as I bent down to pick up the broken pieces.

“Hey, you’re going to cut yourself,” he walked over to me and bent down.

“I’m sorry,” I said shaking my head and picking up the broken porcelain.

“Stop!” his voice commanded.

His voice was startling, but I didn’t listen because it was my mess and I was going to clean it up. He grabbed my hands and turned them over taking the broken pieces out of them. Our eyes met when he saw the scars on my wrists. I pulled back quickly and stood up. He continued to pick up the pieces. I took my purse from the counter.

“I’m sorry again for the mug. I’ll replace it for you, and I hope you feel better.” I turned and headed out the kitchen.

“Wait,” I heard him say.

I turned around and looked at him. “At least let me pay you for your trouble last night.”

“I’m not taking your money, and it was no trouble.” Ok, it was, but he is alive, and I feel better knowing that I probably saved his life. He rolled his eyes, “Then at least have a cup of coffee before you go.” I sighed. I seriously needed it, and one cup wouldn’t hurt.

“Fine, one cup and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

He walked back to the kitchen and put the cup on the island. He drank his cocktail and frowned the entire time. It was fun to watch the disgusted look on his face. He leaned over the counter and looked at me.

“Why on earth would you help me like that? What if I was a rapist or murderer?”

I laughed, “You couldn’t rape or murder me even if you wanted to. You were so far gone last night; I could barely get you home.” He ran one hand through his hair.

“You should not be doing those kinds of things; it is not safe in this city for a girl to be doing shit like that.” He seemed agitated.

I leaned my elbow on the counter, rested my hand on my cheek, and looked at him intently as he lectured me. He stopped what he was saying and narrowed his eyes at me, “Are you even listening to me?”

I laughed as I got up from the stool, “Thanks for the coffee, but I must go now; I need to get home.” I grabbed my purse and started walking out of the kitchen.

“Have a lovely day Mr. Black and next time don’t drink so much.” I could hear his footsteps following behind.

“Would you mind telling me your name?” The elevator doors opened; I stepped in and turned to face him.

“It’s Ellery Lane,” I yelled as the door began to close.

I stepped out into the bright sunlight and looked up at the sky. I smiled as I waited for the cab to come. I kept thinking about Connor, his dumb rule about woman staying the night, and the way he looked. There was something about him that made my stomach flutter. I could not stop thinking about his tone and how angry it was when he first saw me. I guess I couldn’t blame him though; I’d probably be the same way if a strange man was in my apartment when I woke up.

I walked through the door of my apartment, threw my purse down and took a hot bath. I was exhausted, and I desperately needed some sleep. I craved the comfort of my pajamas and bed. I texted Peyton to let her know I was going to take a nap, and I’d call her when I woke up. If I didn’t text her, she would probably call or come over, and I just wanted to be alone tonight. I looked at the clock, and it was 3 pm. I had a plan to sleep till 5 pm, make a quick dinner and do some painting.

I was startled by a knock at the door. I looked at the clock, and it was 5:30. Shit, I slept longer than I wanted to. I got up and headed towards the door.

“Peyton, I said I would call you when…” I flung the door open and to my surprise it was not Peyton, but a young man holding a small white envelope.

“Are you Ellery Lane?” he asked. Suddenly, I got nervous; he sounded serious.

“Yes,” I’m Ellery Lane.

He handed me the envelope, “This is for you.”

I took the envelope from his hand. He smiled and walked away. My stomach started to tie itself in knots. I didn’t know what to expect to find in the envelope, and who was sending me something anyway?

I slid my finger across the top and took out the piece of neatly folded paper that was tucked inside, it read, “Miss Lane, I am going to properly thank you for your services last night, I will be waiting for you at Le Sur Restaurant. My driver will pick you up promptly at 7:00 pm.”

 Connor Black

First of all, how did he know my address and second of all, why the hell is he so bossy? I should have had that creeper feeling, but for some reason I didn’t. I quickly put it out of my mind when I saw he wants to have dinner at Le Sur.