“. . . And by the way, I put a little something in your wine.”
In the candlelight, his eyes glinted darkly.
“I’m sorry . . . what?” Only moments before, he’d held me spellbound, enraptured.
He gave a grim smile; the wineglass shook in my hand. “Don’t worry, by tomorrow, you won’t remember a thing . . . if you survive the night.”