Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 37

Davina's POV:

Waking up in a strange bed sent a jolt of pure panic through me. The soft, unfamiliar sheets, the heavy, expensive curtains blocking out the daylight, the faint scent of expensive cologne clinging to the air – it was all wrong. My memories were fragmented, a jumbled mess of flashing lights, a sickly sweet taste, and a terrifying, looming figure.

Then, the events of last night crashed down on me in a wave of mortifying clarity. Ivan's leering face, the burning in my throat, the terrifying weakness… and then Ezra. His furious face, the brutal violence, and finally, the hazy memory of being carried, weightless, out of the club.

My eyes flew open, and I scrambled back against the headboard, my heart hammering against my ribs. Ezra was there, asleep beside me, his dark hair tousled, his strong features softened in slumber. A wave of shame washed over me, hot and intense. What had happened? Had I…

His eyes fluttered open, and the sleepiness vanished instantly, replaced by a guarded alertness. He watched me, his expression unreadable.

"What… what happened?" I whispered, my voice hoarse and trembling, clutching the soft duvet to my chest like a lifeline. My cheeks burned with the memory of the club, of the strange, unwanted desires that had flickered through me.

He sat up slowly, his gaze steady. "You don't remember?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to piece together the fragmented images. The sickly sweet drink… Ivan’s touch… then Ezra’s sudden, furious arrival. "I… I remember feeling sick," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "And then… you were there."

"Ivan drugged your drink," Ezra explained, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "It was some kind of aphrodisiac. I… I intervened."

My breath hitched. An aphrodisiac? The memory of the strange, insistent urges that had flickered through me, the embarrassing, unwanted attraction towards Ezra… it all clicked into place with a sickening clarity. I looked down at myself, then back at him, a silent, horrified question in my gaze.

"Nothing happened, Davina," he said, his voice firm, meeting my gaze directly. "You were… not yourself. You were making advances, but I stopped it. I wouldn't… I wouldn't take advantage of you like that." His words, though reassuring, did little to quell the wave of shame that washed over me. The memory of those fleeting, drug-induced desires was mortifying.

I buried my face in my hands, a muffled groan escaping my lips. "Oh God," I whispered, the embarrassment a physical ache. "I… I'm so sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You weren't in control."

After a moment, I finally looked up, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Can you… can you just take me home?" The thought of facing Mom and Lexi, after everything, filled me with dread, but the unfamiliarity of this room, the lingering memory of my drugged state, made me desperate for any semblance of normalcy.

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