Chapter 5: Chapter 5: The Morning After
Rory stared hard at Micah Kyle, trying to understand if she was dreaming, but knowing deep down that this was real. He was crouched beside the bed–and not her bed. A bed way too comfortable and way too large. It wasn’t her room either. In fact this bedroom was as large as her entire apartment.
She scooted away from him. “Where am I?”
“My apartment,” he said, a curious look on his face. As he stood up, she realized he was shirtless. She tried not to stare at his toned physique.
“Oh God,” she whispered. “Did we…?”
“No,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
She became aware of her body and realized she felt great, better than great. Amazing. Rested. Clear minded. Energized.
“Not hungover, surprisingly. What am I doing here?”
“What do you remember from last night?” he asked.
“Stop answering my questions with a question.”
But he did have a point. What did she remember? She vaguely remembered arguing with him at Mill’s Tavern, but what happened after that? Tthen the images flooded her. Central Park. The two men. The wolf. She glanced down at a bandage wrapped around her forearm.
“I found you in the park,” Micah said. “You were unconscious and bleeding.”
“It was the wolf that escaped the zoo,” she said. “It bit me. There were two wolves, actually,” she remembered. “I need to…” She hesitated, realizing she’d almost said, I need to get to work, and then remembered that as of yesterday, she was officially unemployed. “I need to get home.”
Removing the covers, she sat on the edge of his bed and paused, staring at her outfit. She was still wearing her Dilliard’s slacks and bra, but instead of her black blouse, she was wearing a large man’s shirt with a Harvard logo on it.
“Where’s my shirt?”
“It was covered in blood and ripped to shreds.”
“So–you changed me out of it?”
He studied her, clearly not understanding why it was an issue. “I thought you’d be more comfortable.”
“Comfortable?” she snapped. “You thought I’d be more comfortable waking up in your bed–a stranger’s bed–wearing your shirt?”
“I thought it’d be worse than you waking up in a bloody shirt, or in your bra, so yeah.”
She glared at him, annoyed that she understood his logic, but still not liking it. She spotted her purse and glasses on the nightstand, both scuffed and smattered with dirt. Her broken heels were arranged neatly on the hardwood floor beside the nightstand.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t steal anything.” He looked amused at his own comment.
“Hold on…did you follow me into the park?”
“I wanted to make sure you got home okay. And good thing I did.”
The comment aggravated her. “My hero.”
“Are you always this defensive?”
She grabbed her purse and glasses with one hand and her heels with the other. “Only when I’m talking to people I have no respect for.”
“I thought you were supposed to be unbiased as a reporter,” he said.
“Well you know nothing about reporting then.” She glared at him. “And you know, I did actually have respect for you. You heard my opinions and were going to give me an interview anyways. And then not only did you stand me up at Mill’s Tavern, you watched me sit there alone the whole time. Technically it’s your fault I got so drunk.”
He scoffed. “All right, I admit I never planned to do the interview. Maybe that was childish of me–”
“--Oh it was.”
“But I’m not taking responsibility for your drinking problem.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I like alcohol too much to be an alcoholic.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Micah said.
“I can’t drink anymore if I drink too much,” she said. “Get it?”
He took a deep breath. “You know most people would thank me for helping them.”
“Mr. Kyle, I’m sure most people would suck your d*ck if you asked them too. That’s what happens when you have money.”
“Well excuse me for trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
She stormed out of his room, and her stomach dropped. She’d seen photos of New York penthouses, but this was on another level. The entire west wall was made of glass and looked out over Central Park.
As he emerged from the bedroom, she laughed. “Now I get it.”
“Get what?”
“This is how you do it,” she said.
“You’re going to need to give me more information, Rory.”
“Oh, you remember my name, impressive,” she said.
“What is your problem with me?” he asked.
“You’re trying to demolish the best parts of this city just so you can get a little richer and your dad can advance his career. News flash–he’s a sh*tty mayor. And your buildings are ugly.” She glanced around. “Okay, well this one is okay. But, most of them are not.”
He smirked. “Just because you’re struggling doesn’t mean you have to hate people who aren’t.”
“Oh, how poetic,” she said. “I don’t hate you, Mr. Kyle. But I finally understand you.” She waved around the apartment. “This is how you got your coveted title of New York’s most eligible bachelor. What you lack in the personality department, you make up for in your disgustingly chiseled body and an apartment with an electrical bill that is probably higher than my rent. Meet helpless women, sweep them off their feet, play the hero.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t need to play the hero to get laid.”
“No, because your money does that for you,” she snapped.
His brown eyes glowed orange in the morning light, his stare impenetrable. “Well if that’s how we’re defining the parameters of sex, I’m guessing its been a while since you got laid.”
The comment hit her harder than she wanted to admit. Money was her kryptonite, the lack of it inherently linked to her self-esteem and lack of faith in herself. Her stomach twisted, and she felt emotion choke up in her throat. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, and Micah’s hardened demeanor immediately broke.
“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” he said.
Determined to not let him see her cry, she turned away from and wiped her tears. Across the living room she spotted the doors of an elevator. Of course he had an elevator in his living room. She stormed towards it, her bare feet echoing on the pristine tile. She pressed the button and gripped her purse against her chest.
“Let me get Stony to drive you home. My bodyguard,” he added.
“No, thank you.”
“Well, at least go out the back.”
“The back?” she asked.
“The back elevators.”
“Of course you have two elevators,” she mumbled.
“I’m just trying to help.”
“I’ve had enough of your help,” she said. “And I’m not going to sneak out like I’m some secret conquest of yours. I have more self-respect than that.”
“Fine,” he growled, clearly frustrated. “Have it your way.”
“I will,” she snapped. The elevator doors opened and she stepped in. She pressed the button for the first floor and glanced up at him. “If you were really that worried about my wellbeing, you would have taken me to a hospital, not back here. But I know why you did.”
“And why’s that?”
“Money can only buy so much, Mr. Kyle. You’re the loneliest person I’ve ever met.” She watched his face break, and she knew she’d hit more than a nerve. The statement had stabbed him in the heart. The power of her words over him shocked her and sudden guilt pressed against her chest. Before she could say anything more, the elevator doors closed shut.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone