Broken (Manhattan Ruthless Book 1)
Chapter 39

Elijah shakes his head, his brow furrowed as he tries to process the shitstorm I’ve just dropped in his lap. After canceling my meeting, I immediately left the hotel and asked the pilot to haul ass home. Within minutes of touching down in New York, I was on my way to my older brother’s office. I needed to talk this through with someone before I faced Mel. And despite our differences, Elijah is the man whose opinion I trust more than anyone else’s.

“So you got so drunk you blacked out?” he asks, his frown deepening.

“Yeah. At least I think I did.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to recall more than the few little snapshots that came back to me when I was on the plane. Stumbling out of the bar. Me leaning against the wall in the elevator. Fumbling for my room key.

Nothing new appears. I still don’t remember kissing her or touching her. I don’t remember taking her clothes off, or my own.

Elijah shakes his head. “No.”

I blink at him. I need his rational brain right now, not his denial. The time for unwavering brotherly support will come, but now’s not it. “What do you mean, no?”

“Nathan, I’ve seen you drunk off your ass more times than I can remember, but you have never once blacked out. Last summer I watched you down a whole bottle of Johnny Walker Black in a matter of hours, and you still beat my ass at poker. You seriously think you blacked out after a couple of shots?”

My head is pounding too hard for me to make sense of what he’s trying to say. “And? What the fuck does that mean?”

He sighs heavily, then picks up the phone on his desk and asks his secretary to bring him one of the drug tests they use to randomly test their staff.

“What the fuck. You think I was drugged?”

He hangs up the phone and narrows his eyes. “Seems more plausible than you losing your memory after a few glasses of Scotch, don’t you think?”

I rub my temples, trying to alleviate the rhythmic drumming in my head, but it doesn’t help. “But why the fuck would she drug me?”

He leans forward. “Did you check your wallet? Was anything missing?”

“I checked before I got on the plane. Everything was there.”

He scowls. “She must have targeted you for a reason. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.”

My mind races with questions that I have no answers for, but my brother’s suspicion ignites a flicker of hope. If I was drugged, that means I didn’t knowingly cheat on my wife, no matter what happened with that woman. Maybe Mel will be able to forgive me. “How about we do this damn drug test first and then we can figure out who she was and why the hell she drugged me.”

The door opens, and Elijah’s secretary, Joseph, walks in. He hands him a white plastic envelope, sneaks a brief glance in my direction, then quickly leaves the room. My older brother clears his throat. “He signed an NDA,” Elijah says when I stare at the door Joseph exited.

“What?” I shake my head, trying to clear it.

“If you’re worried about him bringing us a drug test,” Elijah adds.

I bark a humorless laugh and wince when it sets off the marching band in my skull. “I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about how the fuck I explain all of this to Mel.” I glance at the plastic envelope in his hands. “Especially if that’s negative. That would mean I cheated on my wife, Elijah.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He hands me the swab kit. “Besides, I’d bet my Bentley you were drugged.”

Scowling, I open the packaging and skim the directions. “I bought you that fucking car last year for your fortieth birthday.”

“Then you know how much it means to me. Swab your cheek.”

I rub the cotton end of the swab along the inside of my cheek and place it in the small container. “How long do these things take to work?” I glance at the indicator window.

“Just a few minutes.” He holds out his hand, indicating I should pass him the sample. I have no idea what I’m looking for, so I hand it over. He stares at it, and I stare at him. Holding my breath, I feel like my world stops spinning on its axis while I await the results.

“Hmm,” he finally says. “Positive for opioids and Rohypnol.”

Both relief and fury rush through me, battling for dominance. “I was fucking roofied?”

“Yeah.”

Sinking into the chair, I drop my head in my hands. “So what the fuck did she do to me when I was unconscious?” Bile surges in my throat again.

“I can have her arrested for sexual assault within the hour. Did you stay at the Moretti hotel?”

I look up at him and shake my head. “I always stay there. But no. Not yet. Let me process. I need to speak to Mel and tell her, and then …” The air leaves my lungs in a rush. It’s all too fucking overwhelming to deal with right now. I’ll get answers, I’m fucking sure of it, but right now I need to speak to my wife and tell her what happened. And hope that she knows me well enough to believe me.

I snatch the test off the table. “I need to go home.”

“Nathan!” Elijah’s voice is so full of concern that it irrationally annoys me. I don’t need his fucking pity. “Let’s talk this through. Let me—”

“The only person I need to speak to right now is my wife.” I spit out the words, directing my anger at him because I don’t know where else to put it. Other than on myself for being so goddamn stupid that I let myself get drugged.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay. But I’m here if you need anything at all. Okay?”

Without answering him, I storm out of his office and head home with a churning in my gut that I have a horrible feeling isn’t going away any time soon.