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and I do know that it’s worth quite a sum of money. It wouldn’t
be fair of me to keep it, considering this was not a real marriage.
    I wish I knew why that thought brings a twinge to my chest.
Is it because I didn’t get to marry Oliver first, or is it because I’m a little
bit afraid to go through with all of this?

Alexander
    The scent of lavender reaches the capillaries in my nose and
causes me to inhale deeply, involuntarily.
    When I realize that I’m actually not sleeping, and this is
not a dream, I open up my eyes and grimace at the bright light in my face. My hand
comes up to shade my view, and I’m disappointed to find that this is not the
morning I woke up with a miraculous, dark haired beauty in my bed. Sometimes I
wish I could go back and ask her to stay, just go out to breakfast with me.
    Feeling gloomy, I sit up in bed with a loud yawn and stretch
my arms up above my head. Then I bring one down and twist my back to get the
kinks out, and catch sight of the woman sleeping on the floor with a blanket
wrapped around her and a single pillow. She has an arm flung over her eyes to
block the light, and her dark hair is fanned out all around her as she sleeps.
    I have the sudden urge to lean down and push a lock of her
slightly wavy hair out of her face, but I keep my hands to myself and try to
get out of bed without making a sound.
    “I’m awake. You snore like a fucking elephant.” I want to
tell her that cursing in the morning is not particularly attractive, but I
guess I can let her slide with that one. I catch sight of myself in the mirror
above the bureau and cringe at the black eye, two stitches above the left eye,
and the darkening bruise on my jaw. I’m just glad I didn’t lose any teeth.
    “Good morning to you, too.” I tell her with puffy lips. It
comes out a little more jumbled than I had hoped.
    “Pain pills are in the bathroom on the counter, and the
doctor said to use the crutches by your nightstand there.” She doesn’t even
move her arm off her face as she speaks, and I can tell that she’s still
halfway between awareness and dreaming due to her tone.
    “Thanks.” I grab the crutches and glance down at my bare
legs. I’m in my boxer briefs, which means that the doctor or Melanie undressed
me. Part of me secretly hopes it was Melanie. With a curve to my lips, I hobble
to the bathroom and close the door gently. As soon as the lock clicks I hear
her light snoring through the door and smile to myself.
    Now that I’m out of her sight, I inspect my right calf a
little closer and grimace at the thirteen stitches. I’m not sure if I’m proud
of myself for telling Yatzi to go fuck himself or if I’ve suffered more than I
needed to. He’ll be back in a few days if I don’t agree to his terms, and I
might end up dead in an alley or worse.
    The severity of the situation starts to weigh down on me as
I think about my employees and my business. If I hadn’t recognized two of the
cops with him, I wouldn’t hesitate to call in the police. Maybe I ought to call
in the FBI instead. Yet I doubt they would want to get involved with an
inconsequential nightclub owner.
    “But maybe they’ll want to get their hands on Yatzi.” I
mutter as I stare at myself in the mirror. Am I brave enough to be the cause of
that man going to jail?
    My bladder clenches in response and I cannot look at myself
in the mirror anymore. There’s nothing pretty there right now, and I doubt I’ll
be able to look at myself when I am pretty again. If I get involved with
the FBI and Yatzi figures it out, everyone I care about will be at risk. That
includes the spicy, sexy woman lying on the floor of my office bedroom snoring
politely.
    In one swipe, I have the bottle of pills in my hand and
stare at the label with my good eye. If I take these, I’ll be higher than kite being
flown off the Empire State building. Setting them down again, I wonder how I’m
going to bathe with stitches everywhere, and decide that I’ll