Taylor's POV
The harsh sunlight beaming through my eyelids wake me up the next morning.
I open my heavy eyelids and groan at the dull pounding in my head, sitting up and stretching my arms before realizing I'm not home.
Taking in my surroundings I look around in confusion, the all black room unfamiliar to me.
I can't seem to remember anything from last night after I spoke with dad. The memory of anything is pretty foggy as to what happened after that conversation.
"You're finally awake,"A voice says. I turn my head towards the door, a shirtless Nicolas standing in the doorway with gray sweatpants on.
My breath hitches in my throat and I gulp, the sight breathtaking. "Here," he hands me a cup of water and some Tylenol.
"Thank you," I say, my voice groggily. My eyes widen and I gulp. "Did we..." I trail off, the question I was trying to ask obvious.
"No Taylor, we didn't fuck," he answered.
I choke on my spit, drinking more of my water.
Changing the subject I looked up at him, my head tilted to the side in confusion. "I got drunk last night, didn't I?" He nods his head, handing me a plate full of breakfast. "Thank you," I say again, immediately digging in.
My eyes widening in realization. "Oh no. Did I do something embarrassing last night? If I did, I'm so sorry—"
"It's fine," he chuckles. "The $10 thousand dollars have been transferred into your account. Thanks again Thomas," he nods slowly, tucking his hands inside his pockets.
"Thank you," I look down at my body and my eyes widen again, seeing unfamiliar clothes. "Who changed me?"
"Linda," he says. I sigh in relief and finish my water, chugging it and setting the glass down on the counter next to me.
I look to my right, a dark blue blanket thrown across the small couch.
"So you didn't want to sleep next to my drunk ass huh?" I grin.
"No I, couldn't anyway," he sighs. "I was up all night thinking about what happened last night or, what almost happened."
"Oh."
"You did a good job last night," he suddenly says. I look up at him and our eyes lock.
"I-I did?" I stumble, not knowing if he's talking about the kiss or not. "Did Ivan get away?"
"He did, but we're getting the information about his whereabouts now. You helped a lot Taylor, so thank you," he says genuinely, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Oh, is Mr Romano turning soft?" I tease.
"Shut up," he says.
"You're welcome," I smile, chewing on some toast. "And where am I?" I ask.
"My house. You're in my guest room, in case you didn't already know," he says, taking some eggs off my plate with my fork.
I look up at him when he isn't looking and glare at him, until he looks back at me and I pretend I was looking down at my half eaten eggs, still glaring.
"How'd you like helping me out last night?"
"Well I don't mind helping you out. It's was pretty fun," I admit.
"Oh. Well if that's the case, I'd like you to come with me to another event," he explains.
"Again? The gala was just last night. Is this all you people do? Find bad people and criminals and teach them a lesson?"
"You people? You should be happy we're keeping people like that off the streets," he says, his perfectly arched eyebrow lifting.
"I guess you're right," I laugh, finishing off my breakfast.
"You'll earn another $10 thousand dollars," says.
My eyes light up and I immediately agree, "Okay."
A blaring noise suddenly interrupts us. I look to my right and feel my heart drop as I look at the caller ID,
NEW YORK COUNTY PRISON 1800-xxx-xxxx
I choke on my breath as I look up at Nicolas, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I sigh and pick up the phone, standing up and walking into the bedroom's bathroom.
"Hello?" I answer the phone call, dread filling me.
"Hey Tay," Ryan says, his voice a bit muffled.
"What's wrong?" I ask, tears clouding my visions. I blink them away vigorously and put the phone on speaker, setting it down on the bathroom counter.
"They've uh..." He trails off. "They've given me 25 years without parole for second degree murder," he explains, sadness in his voice. "The bail fee is three hundred thousand dollars."
"What?" I ask, completely breaking down, the tears sliding down my cheeks freely. "W-Why?"
"You know why Taylor," he sniffles. I know he's trying to be strong, for both me and him, but there's no way you can be positive with news like this. "I knew I shouldn't have been messing around with Ivan."
"Ivan?" I ask, making sure it's not the one we're looking for now. "Ivan who?"
"Ivan Peters?" He says, more like a question.
"What all do you know about Ivan?" I ask, hoping to get some kind of information.
"Ivan Peters blackmails people for money and drugs, and when he doesn't get it his way, he throws them in jail for something they didn't do, or worse, he kills them," he explains. My eyes widen and I realize that this could be even worse than I thought. "Why do you want to know about Ivan? Has he found you? Taylor you better stay away from him—"
"I'm okay Ryan," I say.
"I can't believe this."
"Just hang on tight Ry. I'll do everything I can. Love you," I say, hanging up without waiting for a reply and exiting the bathroom.
"What's wrong Taylor? Have you been crying?" Nicolas asks, walking towards me and grabbing my chin between his fingers, turning it side to side, inspecting my face.
"Ivan sent my brother to prison for second degree murder and now he's facing 25 years without parole with the bail fee of three hundred thousand dollars," I sniffle, closing my eyes shut.
"Who's your brother?" He asks.
"Ryan? Ryan Lewis?" I say, hopeful that he can probably do something. "Please help him. He didn't kill anyone," I plead.
"What did he tell you?"
"That Ivan is the kind of man to blackmail people for money and drugs, and when he doesn't get his way, he throws them in jail or prison for something they didn't do, or worse, kills them," I explain, word for word. "I can't believe Ryan really got involved with him," I sniffle, realization dawning on me that I could lose my brother.
The only real family I have left.
Ryan's always been there for me, especially after mom died, and it's really devastating that I might lose him over some money.
"I'll do what I can Taylor. Your brother will be safe," he explains, rubbing small circular patterns on my hand, comforting me.
____________________________________
Poor Ry
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