Chapter 7. How Did He Know

CHARLOTTE

A sweet aroma hit me first.

My nose twitched, and my stomach growled before my eyes even opened.

Then—bam—reality crept in.

Where the hell am I?

I was lying with my hands and legs spread apart in the middle of a massive king-sized bed.

What the hell…

I sat up too fast and instantly regretted it because the room spun. My hand flew to my head as I blinked around.

The room was huge and bright.

Ridiculously clean.

Everything screamed luxury. Glass walls stretched from floor to ceiling. A city skyline blinked back at me, smugly. Black-and-gold furniture. Expensive arts.

What… is this place?

Still, I couldn’t help but whisper, “Please tell me I wasn’t kidnapped by a serial killer with a cleaning fetish.”

Then my heart skipped.

I looked down and sighed in relief.

“I’m not naked. That’s a win,” I muttered, then frowned in confusion. “But… how did I get here?”

I scratched my hair, looked