…
Marcia knew Bradley was the one of Frank's friends who disliked her the most, and she was well aware of her own intentions for being there. Suppressing her anger, she went out and found a waiter to help.
Once in the car, Marcia glanced back at Frank, sleeping peacefully in the back seat, and drove directly to a nearby five-star hotel.
The next day at noon, Frank awoke with a splitting headache. As he tried to rub his temples, he realized his arm was pinned down.
"Bradley, get the hell off me…"
He trailed off as he turned his head and saw Marcia lying next to him. Both of them were nearly naked.
Marcia's eyes fluttered open, full of affection. "Frank…"
Frank shoved her away, sending her tumbling a few feet across the bed. He scrambled out, grabbing his shirt and pants. "What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled.
Marcia, nearly falling to the floor, looked utterly pathetic. "I—I came to the bar to pick you up. We were heading home, but you got sick on the way, so I had to find the nearest hotel."
Frank's temples throbbed. "*You* picked me up? Who told you to do that?"
"I…" Marcia's eyes welled with tears as she delivered a half-truth. "My friend saw you at the bar and said you were really drunk. She was worried something would happen, so she called me to check on you."
Frank laughed coldly. "So let me get this straight. You were worried something would happen to me, so you climbed into my bed?"
"No!" Marcia said, a mix of embarrassment and humiliation in her voice. "Y-You thought I was Elissa last night…"
It was the excuse she had prepared, the one that made the most sense.
A vein pulsed in Frank's temple. "So," he asked, his voice dangerously low, "we slept together?"


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