Sugar. Why not?

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Sofia's POV

What? She must be high or something? I'm not sure how to reply to that. It must be a joke. Regardless it causes a sickly feeling to swirl in my stomach.

"Plus just yesterday a report was filed against him. Nadia Zoya or something. She accused him of assault" she continues and my head is kind of spinning. This surely can't be real.

"Annabelle doesn't this sound a bit far fetched?" I reply but my throat is beginning to close up. It's one thing after another. First I'm having a god damn panic attack and now this. Is the world trying to tell me I'm making a mistake being anywhere near Patrick?

"How do you know it's far fetched? You barely know him"

She has a point.

Patrick sits on the bed next to me then, his hand sliding onto my leg. Am I sleeping with a murderer? And if I am, what exactly does she expect me to do right now?

"You'll have to give me more details than that" I reply, trying to keep my sentences normal. I've still said nothing that could give away what I'm saying but it'll be tougher soon.

"I'll send you links. Please get away from him as soon as you can. This is real Sofia!"

"Okay cool no problem, I'll speak to you later" I say cheerily and hang up, keeping my phone tightly clasped in my hand.

My first thought is to just come out and say "why did you get accused of murder?" Because I want him to burst out laughing and tell me that it's a load of shit. Only, if it's true then I risk putting myself in danger. What if I'm supposed to be his next victim?

"Sofia are you sure you're okay?" He asks, looking at me with a concerned expression on his face. That's probably because I haven't said a word since hanging up the phone and I'm kinda frozen stiff.

Think! How do I get out of this?! I just need to get away from him until I can work out what the hell is going on?

"I don't feel very well" is the best thing I can come up with. The words fly from my mouth uneven and pathetic. It's not totally a lie though because I'm feeling sicker by the second. If this was a murder mystery, I'd be fucking dead that's for sure.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" He asks, his hand resting over my forehead. "You are rather hot, I'll go get you some water" he says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. Really? How is this guy a murderer, he's so sweet? And my god I don't wanna believe it.

But what if this is part of his thing? Make me like him and get close to me so that the killing part will be more enjoyable.

Glancing down at my phone, I fumble to open the link that has the words 'accused of murder' in it and wait nervously as it loads. All that I can take in once it pops up is one simple sentence:

'Multimillionaire Patrick Stump Kills Lover in Penthouse Apartment'

His lover. Well shit that definitely makes me more of a target huh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

My ears ring as a feeling of dizziness overcomes me but I can make out the sound of his footsteps coming back. Okay, not good.

"I'll go to the store and get you some painkillers or something Darling. What exactly do you think is wrong?" He says softly, appearing in front of me again. Fight or flight???

"I'm going to be sick" I exclaim and jump off the bed, dodging around him and sprinting into the bathroom. I slam the door shut behind me and lock it with an adrenaline endorsed fear. I actually do feel the bile rising in my throat but I take a deep breath and lean against the cold tile to try and collect my thoughts.