“Olivia. Olivia Mirabal. But everyone calls me Livvy.”
“Miss Mirabal. That’s a Spanish name. Are you from Spain?”
“No, not at all. I’m American. Some of my ancestors were Spanish, I suppose. My father is Cuban, and I was born in Miami, that’s in Florida. So I guess that makes me Cuban-American.” Now she was babbling. Great going Olivia. But he didn’t seem to mind. He was listening to her with undivided attention.
“Interesting. I don’t know your hometown, but I know of Cuba. It is the biggest island in the Caribbean, correct? North of Jamaica. A Spanish colony.”
Did he just refer to Cuba as a Spanish colony? He probably meant that it had been a Spanish colony once. Still, an odd way of describing Cuba, given that it hadn’t belonged to Spain for well over a century now, but whatever.
She had more pressing matters. She had no idea where she was, how she got here, or who this handsome stranger was. The last thing she remembered was waking up after the accident. She had tried to call for help but didn’t have a signal. So she got out of the car to get help, and then she had no memory of anything else until she woke up in this room.
She studied the room in wonderment. It was the most opulent room she had ever seen outside of a museum. In fact, it looked like a museum. The high ceilings, framed with thick and intricate gold crown molding, were a work of art. Heavy wood furniture stood against every wall. The bed hangings were of deep blue and gold brocade that matched the curtains. If her client saw this, she would swoon and then demand she do her bedroom exactly like this. Olivia took mental pictures of everything. She was going to take actual pictures with her phone before she left. But back to the matter at hand. Where was she?
The place looked like a palace. Maybe a manor house that had been converted into a hotel? If so, it must be a very expensive hotel. But how had she gotten here? And why? If she had been found unconscious, shouldn’t she have been taken to a hospital?
"Miss Mirabal?" Mr. Hunk had leaned forward and seemed seconds away from waving a hand before her face. "Are you unwell? Your eyes have gone glassy. Should I send for the doctor?"
Yes. "No. No. I'm well. Thank you. But... where am I? Who are you?"
“Yes, of course. Forgive me for the oversight. I’m Avondale, at your service Miss Mirabal.” He executed a perfect bow. “And you are in my home, Crestview Hall.”
Crestview Hall! Wasn’t that the name of the estate where the auction was taking place? Had he said it was his home? Surely not. She had been told it was uninhabited. The last person who had owned it had died without heirs, and while the courts decided what to do with it, the house had remained uninhabited for years.
This place didn’t look uninhabited. It must be a different house. But that wasn’t important now. What she wanted to know was how she got here. And why was this guy with her while she slept? Was he a doctor, maybe? But he wasn’t wearing a white robe. In fact, he dressed strangely. Like an actor in a period drama.
Stranger and stranger.
CHAPTER 6 - Duke, where is my car?
“HOW DID I GET HERE?” she asked. “Excuse me, but my memories of last night after the accident are incomplete.”
“Understandably so. I brought you here. I saw a flash of lightning from my window and went to investigate. That is how I found you lying unconscious in the forest.”
So the guy had rescued her like a true knight in shining armor. A pity she had been unconscious. She would have quite enjoyed being rescued by her own hero. But if she had been conscious, no rescue would have been necessary.
Still, now that her mind was working better, she realized how strange the situation was. If he had found her unconscious at the scene of an accident; why hadn’t he called an ambulance and had her taken to a hospital, as any normal person would do? She needed to be examined by a doctor, have some tests done. MRIs, X-Rays, and such. She felt better, but head injuries were sometimes unpredictable. She didn’t want to be rude or seem ungrateful for his hospitality, but she needed to ask.
