When Henry''s lips found hers, Selma panicked. But in his drunken state,


    convinced she was the woman he loved, he was relentless.


    Sometimeter, Henry''s breathing grew deep and even beside her. He had fallen into a heavy sleep, but his arm remained wrapped tightly around her, as if she were a lifeline.


    Selma tried to shift, and thankfully, he had rxed in his sleep.


    As she pulled back the covers to get out of bed, she saw a ssh of red on the sheets and froze in shock. She didn''t know what to do. But in the end, what happened had been consensual, at least on her part. With a soft sigh, Selma got up and left.


    She had been in the master bedroom for two hours. When she came out, the butler hurried over. He noticed her disheveled hair and the distinct red marks on her neck and gasped. "Miss Quigley, you-"


    "Please, don''t tell anyone I was here tonight, especially not your young master," Selma said, looking exhausted. "And the sheets are soiled. Please have them changed before he wakes up."


    With that, she left.


    The butler knew exactly what had happened in the master bedroom. He thought of his young master, dead drunk, and sighed.


    Alcohol was truly a destructive force.


    The next morning, Henry woke up with a splitting headache and no memory of the previous night. He feltpletely drained, as if all his energy had been sapped away. He sat up, staring at the ceiling for a moment, then swung his legs out of bed.


    That''s when he noticed a red stain on the gray bedsheets. He frowned. It looked like blood. But where would it havee from?


    His head throbbed too intensely to think about it.


    As he got up, his foot kicked something on the floor. It was a woman''s ne, and it looked expensive.


    Henry froze. What was a woman''s ne doing in his bed? What had happenedst night?


    He knew Xavier had brought him home, so he couldn''t have brought anyone back with him.


    He stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. The cold water helped clear his head. When he came back out, he picked up the ne and examined it before cing it on the nightstand.


    When he went downstairs, the butler immediately approached him. "Young master, is your head hurting? Would you like some ginger tea to help with the hangover?"


    "I''m sober now. Who was herest night?"


    "Mr. Vaughn, and... well..."


    "And who?" Henry''s eyebrows shot up.


    The butler quickly shook his head. "No one else. Just Mr. Vaughn."


    He couldn''t tell him about Selma; she had specifically asked him not to.


    "Young master, I''ve had the maids change the sheets fromst night," the butler added.


    Henry grunted in acknowledgment and went to get a ss of water.


    The butler instructed a maid to clean the room. When she went in, she found the bloodstained sheets. "Get rid of this," he told her.


    Henry went back to his room andy down on the fresh sheets. After a moment, he sat up, picked up the ne again, and studied it. The diamonds were high quality it was easily worth seven figures.


    Who could have left it in his house? In his bed? Suddenly, he shot up. He remembered a dream fromst night-a vivid, passionate dream where he and Vanessa had made love.


    Could his dream have been real? Was there actually a woman in his bed?


    "Butler!" Henry''s voice boomed through the house.


    The butler hurried upstairs. "Young master?"


    "I''m asking you again. Who else was herest night?" Henry demanded, his face grim.


    The butler finally confessed. "It was Miss Selma Quigley. She was in your room


    for two hours. When she left, she asked me not to tell you she had been here. She also told me..."


    "Told you what?"


    "To change the sheets."


    "The sheets?" Henry repeated, his mind shing back to the suspicious red stain.


    He bolted out of the room. "Show me those sheets. Now!"


    The maids were about to dispose of the bundled linens when Henry burst in. He tore open the bag and frantically searched through the gray sheets unt he found it: a small, flower-like stain of blood.


    Henry''s mind went nk. He was consumed by a wave of guilt and self-loathing.


    He couldn''t believe it-he had actuallymitted the cliché of a drunken one- night stand.


    "Young master!"


    "Get rid of it," Henry said, turning away, unable to face the evidence of his mistake: He returned to his room, feeling utterly ashamed.


    Towel


    Selma was the daughter of his


    parents close friends, and be had used her as a substitute for


    Vanessa, forcing himself on her.


    It was despicable.


    He picked up his phone, found the number for Selma Quigley he had saved, and dialed.


    "Hello, Henry."


    "I''m sorry, Selma. I am so, so sorry," Henry stammered, his voice thick with


    shame. "I was drunkst night. I... I didn''t mean for that to happen. I apologize,


    I..."


    "It''s okay, Henry," Selma''s understanding voice came from the other end. "I know you didn''t mean it. You were just upset."