Victor's POV
The whiskey had done its job too well.
I don't know when I passed out, somewhere between the second bottle and the moment my head hit the desk. Could have been seconds. Could have been minutes.
When I jerked awake, my neck was stiff, my mouth tasted like ash, and for one blissful moment, I couldn't remember why my chest felt like it had been carved open.
Then it all came rushing back.
Emily. The stranger. The bed. The clothes on the floor.
My hand shot out, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady myself. The room spun violently, my head pounding in rhythm with my racing heart.
I need to see it. Need to confirm it wasn't some alcohol-induced nightmare.
The CCTV footage. I could pull up the hallway cameras. See exactly when he'd arrived. How long he'd been there. Maybe catch them on camera doing...
No. Don't think about that.
