Chapter 11
LAYLA woke up the next morning, thinking she hadn’t slept this good in ages. She stretched without opening her eyes. Even her bed felt better this morning. Her sheets were silkier as if they’d magically increased their thread count by a thousand fold overnight. And she rubbed her nose into the pillow, which felt especially plump. It was like sleeping on a cloud.
Best of all, she thought, for the first time in months, she hadn’t woken up in the middle of some weird s*x dream involving Nathan Sinclair—
That’s when it all came back to her. Her eyes flew open and she found herself in a bed covered with black sheets, one way larger than her own modest full. She sat up with a gasp. And then she saw the stainless steel alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed. It read eight am,
