She took two steps before her heel twisted. She threw out a hand to brace herself against the wall as her head suddenly grew heavy.
Georgia Thorne shook her head. 'That's strange,' she thought. 'I've always been a good drinker. Have I only had one glass?'
A familiar profile seemed to flash through her blurry vision, and she called out instinctively.
Her vision blurred even more. She shook her head again, but the figure was gone.
'I guess I drank too much. It must have been a hallucination.'
The people leaving up ahead were, in fact, Elliot Sheridan and Secretary Sawyer.
In front of the elevators, Secretary Sawyer glanced at Elliot Sheridan. "Sir, I think someone just called your name."
Elliot Sheridan's gaze was heavy, as if he hadn't heard a word.
The normally cautious and tight-lipped Owen Sawyer wondered privately, 'Could I be mistaken? Does the president really have no connection to that woman?'
They stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed as it began its descent.
Elliot Sheridan was silent. Owen Sawyer, following behind, was even more so, finding it impossible to fathom what his boss was thinking.
Meanwhile—
Georgia Thorne was certain she hadn't had too much to drink, yet she felt completely disoriented.
The crystal chandelier overhead and the deep-red carpet underfoot were spinning relentlessly, threatening to form a vortex and swallow her whole.
Leaning against the wall, her legs were turning to jelly.
Just as she was about to collapse, a pair of arms suddenly caught her.
A shadow fell over her. She barely had the strength to open her eyes, seeing only a blurry chin as a man's excited voice sounded in her ear.
"Zane, looks like that drug of yours works pretty well!"
"Of course it does! I told you it would knock her out in three minutes flat!" Zane said, helping Ian Larkin lift Georgia Thorne.
The two of them worked together to carry Georgia into the nearest men's restroom.
They set Georgia Thorne on a toilet and shut the door.
As dizzy as Georgia Thorne was, she still recognized him.
The man before her was the same one who had asked her how much she cost for a night.
"Don't you touch me!" Georgia Thorne sat up straight, violently swatting away Ian Larkin's outstretched hand.
"Still so feisty? In a little while, you'll be begging me for it!" Ian Larkin's hand was slapped away, but he just gave a sleazy grin. "There was a little something extra in that wine you drank. You're a lucky girl, running into me."
Ian Larkin tilted Georgia Thorne's chin up. "Now let's get a good look at you. You look so innocent. You're a virgin, aren't you?"
"Pah!" Her vision sharpened, and when she got a clear look at the man's lecherous face, she spat on him.
"Oho, got a temper on you, do we? Looks like you need to be taught a lesson, or you won't know who you're dealing with!" Ian Larkin wiped the spit from his cheek and grabbed a fistful of Georgia Thorne's hair without a shred of mercy.
He yanked hard, and Georgia Thorne gasped in pain.
Georgia Thorne struggled with all her might, pushing and shoving the man in front of her, terrified.
She heard the sound of tearing fabric and, in a panic, slapped Ian Larkin across the face.
The sharp crack echoed in the small space, and a red handprint blossomed on Ian Larkin's cheek.
"Don't touch me! I belong to Elliot Sheridan!" The threat snapped her into focus. She clutched at her torn clothes, scrambling backward.
"Who?" Ian Larkin licked the corner of his stinging mouth and sneered down at the disheveled Georgia Thorne. "Elliot Sheridan? He ain't shit. I could take you right here, right now, and nobody would dare say a goddamn thing!"