"Earth to Ethan," Emily said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Where is your head at? I’ve been talking for a full two minutes."
Ethan smiled. He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he pulled her close and kissed her deeply.
"Ew, you two get a room," Lyvana said without looking up.
She was busy texting Bertha. Bertha had been giving her all the updates about work. Lyvana was glad the company was doing so well, but she felt a bit frustrated. She wished she could rember her past so that everything would be much easier to understand.
Suddenly, her phone rang. It was Dr. Aris.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Hello, Ms. Lyvana," Dr. Aris said. "I need you to co to the hospital by noon."
"Of course," Lyvana replied. Her heart gave a small thump of worry. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, it is just a follow-up for your dication," the doctor said smoothly. "I would also like to run a few more tests, just to be sure of your progress."
"Alright doctor."
Lyvana stood up. She saw Ethan running his hands over Emily’s breasts through her dress.
"I am heading over to the bathroom," she said, giving them a look. "Try not to do anything ssy on my couch!"
Emily giggled and threw a pillow at her. "Go away, Liv!"
She laughed and headed for her room.
At the sa ti, Mark was on her floor, holding a white rose in his hand.
He was wearing the sa clothes he had worn the previous night. His usually neatly combed hair looked slightly ssy, and his usually fresh and clean face now appeared tired.
He had had to bribe soone a huge amount of money to get into the building.
How could Lyvana afford this place? he wondered.
Before he could ring the doorbell, the elevator doors snapped open. Four security guards rushed out.
They grabbed him and pinned him against the wall.
"Who are you?" one guard barked. "This is a restricted floor. You are not allowed to be here."
"Wait! Wait! Ow!" Mark cried out in pain. "I’m here to see Lyvana!"
"That is not how this works," the guard replied coldly. "You are coming with us right now, sir."
The guards took Mark to the security office and forced him to sit down.
"An alarm went off the mont you stepped onto the elevator," the head of security said.
He stared at the key card on the desk. "That is a worker’s card. It isn’t ant for guests, and certainly not for the floor you were on. Who gave you this card?"
Mark stayed silent. He looked down at the white rose, which was now crushed and broken in his hand and refused to say a word.
"If you don’t corporate Sir, we will be forced to hand you over to the police," the guard threatened.
Mark looked up, his eyes full of anger.
"I’d like to see you try, you dumbass," he snapped.
The head of security sighed and picked up the phone. He called the building manager.
"Hello, sir. We have a security breach on the Platinum floor. We caught a man using a worker’s card?"
Monts later, the manager entered the room. He spoke directly to the head of security.
"I want every worker in this building in the conference room imdiately," the manager said. "Tell them it is an ergency. They must show their key cards for inspection. Match the numbers to the nas. I want to know exactly who gave this man the card."
"How long are you going to keep here?" Mark asked, sounding annoyed.
The manager turned to look at Mark. He recognized his face from the news and the newspapers. Mark was from a very famous and wealthy family.
"Mr. Vaughn," the manager said. "I am Travis Scott. I am the manager of The Royale."
"If you know who I am. Then you should know who my fiancée is, right?"
"Of course, sir," Travis replied quickly. "But we have protocols here. Everything we do is for the safety of our residents."
"How could I be a threat to my own woman?" Mark asked. "She is living in this building, and I am here to see her. How is that even a problem. Are you going to let go, or what?"
Travis smiled. "The lease for that unit is not in your na, Mr Vaughn. According to our records, Ms. Lyvana is under the protection of another party. Unless they authorize your visit, my hands are tied."
Mark’s eyes widened. "Another party? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Just that," Travis said, turning toward the door. "Now, if you will excuse , I will be back in a second."
"You can’t lock in here!" Mark shouted. "Hey!"
He sighed then quickly pulled out his phone and called Martin. Martin was also a lawyer. Although he was a tax lawyer, Mark didn’t care at this point. He needed soone with a legal title to help him get out of this place.
"Martin? It’s Mark. I’m at The Royale. They have in a security room and won’t let leave. I need you to get down here right now and tell these people to let go!"
"The Royale?" Martin asked, sounding confused. "Mark, what were you doing there in the first place?"
"Lyvana lives here. I just wanted to see her, and now these idiots are treating like a criminal."
Martin sighed loudly over the phone. Mark could hear the sound of a car door closing.
"Just stay calm, okay? Don’t say another word to them. Don’t sign anything. I’m on my way."
Twenty minutes later, Mark walked out of the heavy glass doors of The Royale. Martin was right beside him, looking stressed.
"Thanks, man," Mark said, taking a deep breath of fresh air. "I didn’t think they’d actually let leave."
Martin stopped walking and turned to him, his expression serious. "Wait, you’re telling Lyvana lives here? In The Royale?"
Mark nodded. "Apparently. Yeah."
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