Whipped Billionaire ✔

Chapter 23

My shout out goes to Pennsylvania and Hungary. I love you guys! ❤

Angela's POV

*

My head was sore, my body ached terribly. I tried to turn on my side, to get into a comfortable position but I just couldn't.

Groaning, I struggled to open my eyes; which I finally succeeded in doing after great difficulty. I instinctively looked towards the window where the brightness was coming from and winced to check what time of the day we were. The sun was up, but there was no wall clock on the walls for me to check the time and I didn't know where I was at.

Still, I looked around groggily. I was in a room, a very royal looking room, with little white chandeliers hanging off the ceiling and a modernized ancient looking lamp stand by my side. There was a vase on the table at the far left corner but I couldn't see what else was on the table. I tried to sit up slowly due to the ache on my body and did so, but there was so much discomfort that I winced every few seconds.

Why was the room so white? The walls, chandeliers, large curtains, the table and flower-vase; even the closet doors and the bed sheets were all white. I looked down at myself and realized I was equally in a white silk nightgown.

"She's awake." The voice said beside me, startling me.

I looked up to catch the dark gaze on me, it was Pedro. He was sitting on the chair beside me with crossed legs and he was dressed like a pirate, with the hat and dressing. He looked so weird. Especially the smokey eye effect.

"Hey, what happened and where am I?" I frowned, sitting properly.

"You don't remember?" He asked with a stern expression. I wracked my memory for clues and found out I could only gather bits of what'd happened last night.

I'd been drinking and I could barely hold in alcohol on a normal day, but there was nothing normal about yesterday. So I had just allowed myself to let go.

Pedro had taken me to the Swiss hotel dinner after we checked in and I had taken a glass of wine but I shouldn't have done that because after that one glass, I had gone beyond my reasonable self. I could vaguely remember punching him on the chest when we were discussing with some other hotel couple who were in Italy sightseeing.

And then...I'd slapped him and begged him at a point to take me back home, asking him why he had kidnapped me.

Then what happened next? And why was there stinging sensation at the back of my head?

"What happened last night Pedro?"

He'd been pacing about elegantly; as if he was taking a royal pose while taking pictures, but he suddenly stopped abruptly and turned to face me. "What did you just call me?"

My face scrunched up into a confused contour. Was he still drunk?

Because I myself was also hung-over at the moment and thank goodness he wasn't shouting. His attire itself was still very weird though.

"I called you your name, Pedro and-"

"Kindly keep your pretty mouth shut, little birdie!"

That term gave me chills and his wicked grin as he practically leered down at me didn't do any good.

"Please reduce your voice Pedro because I'm having a headache-"

I felt my world go deaf for a couple of seconds and flew out of the bed, then my leg hit something hard and I released a long, agonizing groan, trying to process what had just happened. His legs moved closer to my face and I realized he'd just whacked me so hard on the face that I'd flown across the bed, landing on the ground.