The Enigma Called Greg

Chapter 7

The woman looked disheveled, her breathing shallow and uneven, and her skin ghostly pale under the streetlight.

“Hey,” Greg said gently, crouching beside her. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, as if she were looking through him rather than at him.

“…don’t leave me,” she whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Greg assured her. “What happened?”

She shook her head weakly, each movement seeming to drain her further. “They… gave me something. I… I don’t feel right…”

Greg’s jaw tightened. That was all he needed to know.

“Don’t worry. You’re coming with me. I’ll get you somewhere safe,” he said firmly.

She didn’t resist as he helped her fasten the seatbelt, guiding her gently while she struggled to stay conscious.

Once inside the car, he turned up the heat and grabbed a bottle of water from the console.

“Here,” he said, pressing it into her trembling hands. “Take small sips.”

Some of the water spilled down her chin, but she managed a few careful sips.

Greg slid back into the driver’s seat, eyes flicking to her with concern. “Do you know where you live?”

She gave a faint shake of her head.

“Three… Melbourne Street… no—wait…” Her voice trailed off in confusion.

Greg could tell she wasn’t fully aware of what she was saying.

He couldn’t risk taking her to the wrong place, so he made a quick decision.

“Alright,” he said gently. “We’ll go somewhere quiet first—let you recover.”

He pulled back onto the road, tension coiling in his grip on the wheel.

Those men had drugged her, left her helpless. Dangerous.

Moments later, he noticed her shifting restlessly. Her breathing hitched again, and a faint sound escaped her.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, glancing over.

“I… I don’t feel right…” she murmured, voice strained.

“I know. Just hold on,” he said, determination firm in his tone.

Greg spotted a quiet roadside parking area, away from the rain but under dim lights. He eased the car in, cut the engine, and turned to face her fully.

“Listen to me,” he said calmly, voice steady. “Whatever they gave you is messing with your system. You’re not thinking clearly right now, but I’ve got you.”

Her eyes, still glassy, searched his face.

“You saved me…” she whispered.

Greg shook his head. “I just found you. You’re the one holding on.”

Her hand reached out weakly, clutching his sleeve. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly.

For a moment, she seemed to calm. But then her expression shifted—panic flickering across her face.

“Some… something’s wrong…” she whispered, tightening her grip on his arm. “I feel like I’m losing control…”

Greg leaned closer, steadying her. “Hey, look at me. Breathe. Slow, steady breaths.”

She tried, but her breathing stayed uneven.

“I don’t know what they gave you,” he said gently, “but trust me—you’re going to be safe, okay?”

Then, unexpectedly, he felt an arm loop around his neck. It was hers. He tried to move her arm back, but she wrapped it around him again. Greg frowned, confused by her sudden boldness.

Just then, she spoke, "I want you."

He had been focused on making sure she was safe, getting her to a secure place—but now she was telling him she wanted him.

Greg immediately tried to regain control of the engine. “You’ll be home soon,” he said. But then, unexpectedly, she wrapped her arms around his chest from behind, pressing close in a sudden embrace.

In a short time, Greg’s resolve began to falter.

There was no denying it—this woman was stunning, even more beautiful than his ex, Eva, with long hair and flawless skin.

Turning slightly, he couldn’t help but notice her smooth, perfect complexion, and a strange pull of desire stirred within him.

He didn’t want to take advantage of her—especially knowing the drug coursing through her system—but he also knew that she was only likely to calm down after it wore off, through closeness and intimacy.

Slowly, Greg found himself drawn to her, and then, they got intimate.

Then, as if in response, the effects of the drug faded, and she seemed to return to herself. Her nerves relaxed, and a wave of shame passed over her face.

Before she could speak, Greg’s voice broke the silence.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Alina Gatwick,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Helplessness and self-reproach weighed heavily on her. She could hardly believe she had thrown herself at a man just to feel okay.

“I’m sorry…”

Greg interrupted gently.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” He held her hands, looking past the surface to the calm, magnetic presence she radiated.

He tried to contain his emotions, but the words spilled out before he could stop them.

“Will you marry me?”