CHAPTER 27: PERVERT

Alexia POV

Waking up in a soft, expansive bed surrounded by pristine, luxurious bedding, I couldn’t help but think for a moment that I had slipped into some kind of dream. The room I found myself in was far too grand to be real—huge, lavishly decorated, and designed with a taste that screamed wealth. The colors were a mixture of rich golds and royal blues, everything dripped with a sense of power and luxury. It felt like I had stepped into a life I’d only heard about but never actually lived. Maybe I had somehow returned to the my past?

But as my mind began to clear, reality hit me with a vengeance. The modern technology scattered around the room, the sleek lines of the furniture, and the absence of any hint of my former life made it clear that I wasn’t in some forgotten kingdom from my past. This was the here and now, and I was stuck in a world that didn’t feel like mine. The memory of last night began to seep back into my mind, each image making my stomach tighten. I had been so drunk that I could barely recall what happened after that final drink.

Then it came rushing back: The toilet. The puking. The struggle to make it to the side of the road just to pee like some animal. God, how could I have been so embarrassing? I had completely lost control of myself, and it felt like the whole world was laughing at me. I groaned in frustration. This wasn’t me. This couldn’t be me. But it was.

Lifting the covers from my body, I immediately froze and screamed. Yes, I screamed—loudly, because what I saw made no sense at all.

What the actual fuck?

I was naked. Well, not completely—thankfully I still had my undergarments on—but the rest of me was exposed to the cool air, my skin exposed in a way that made my pulse race with horror. How could this be? I didn’t remember undressing. Did he—did Aiden do this? Had he taken advantage of me when I was out of it? Panic bubbled in my chest, and I scrambled to cover myself with the bedspread. My thoughts were jumbled and frantic, and I felt completely violated.

Before I could even process what was happening, the door to the room slammed open, and there he was. Mr. Almond Milk himself, dressed in one of his usual expensive suits. But there was something different about him this time. He wasn’t fully dressed yet—his shirt was still open, buttons undone, his hair slightly damp, as though he had just stepped out of the shower. He looked like a man who was in the middle of getting ready and had been interrupted by my hysterics. His eyes scanned the room swiftly before landing on me, and I noticed the subtle flicker of amusement in his gaze before it settled into an irritated frown.

His eyes traced over my exposed body, and I quickly pulled the covers around me more tightly. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was just some helpless woman. But instead of offering some apology or explanation, he sighed in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Care to explain why you’re screaming so early in the morning?" he asked, clearly frustrated.

I couldn’t even respond at first. My mind was still spinning, trying to piece everything together. This man—this asshole—was responsible for this strange situation, wasn’t he? He was the one who had undressed me. I knew it! I wanted to scream, but I held it back, keeping my anger in check.

"You pervert!" I finally spat, unable to stop myself. His eyes flicked up, and for a brief second, he looked at me as if I had grown a second head.

"You took advantage of me when I was drunk!" I yelled, my voice rising as the frustration of the entire situation built up in my chest.

He raised an eyebrow, still looking confused. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he processed my words.

So, I explained to his dumb brain, muttering a curse under my breath. "Why the fuck did you undress me?"

He looked at me for a moment, not answering right away. And then he sighed deeply, clearly irritated by the whole situation. He ran a hand through his wet hair and finally spoke.

"Because you puked and peed on yourself," he said, his voice almost amused now.

I felt my blood run cold. What?

"I did no such thing!" I shouted back, immediately rejecting his version of events. This was not what had happened. It couldn’t be. My mind flashed back to what I remembered, but it was all fuzzy and unclear. I definitely didn’t piss on myself.

He turned his back to me, as if the conversation was over. "If you don’t remember me undressing you, then how can you say you didn’t pee on yourself?" he asked, his tone becoming dismissive.

I was still in shock, my hands shaking as I clutched the covers around me. "I did not

pee on myself!"

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his damp hair before pinching the bridge of his nose like I was some troublesome child.

"You did pee on yourself and puke all over the place," he said, irritation clear in his tone.

I froze. That... that was not how I remembered it.

I was about to retort when he raised his hand, cutting me off. "Look, I had to clean you up," he continued, his voice growing more amused, though his frustration was still evident. "It was either I undress you or deal with you in piss-soaked clothes, and trust me, undressing you was like undressing a child."

My eyes widened, my mouth hanging open in shock. What? Did he just... what the fuck was he insinuating?

Before I could react, he turned to leave, his back facing me. "Get over it. You’re fine now," he muttered, clearly done with the conversation.

My mouth dropped open. What did he just say? I stared at him, utterly stunned. I felt like the world had just tilted on its axis. Did he seriously just compare me to a child? A child?

"No!" I shouted, my voice shaking with disbelief and anger. "What do you mean, undressing me like a child? What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

He didn’t even bother to look back. "Trust me, it wasn’t a big deal. And for the record, you’re lucky I didn’t leave you in that disgusting state."

With a final grunt of irritation, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

The silence in the room was deafening. I just stood there, still clutching the bedspread to my chest, completely dumbfounded by what had just happened. Had he really just said that?

I sank back down onto the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if to protect my own fragile sense of dignity. How had everything gotten so out of control?

I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel anymore—anger, fear, humiliation, or maybe just... confusion. What the hell had I gotten myself into?