…Catherine came slowly awake. She blinked up at a high ceiling that didn’t look anything like her apartment. It was too pretty; edged with fancy trim. Her hands smoothed over satin sheets. Nope, definitely not her apartment. She noticed the scent on the bed. She turned her face into the pillow and breathed a little more deeply.
She knew that scent.
“Who are you?” she whispered to herself.
She pushed herself up to sitting, looking around the dark room. There was a lamp on by the door, and from what she could make out, a hella lot of antiques, mostly Georgian. Not that she was an expert, but she liked to watch documentaries about people with old money and too much time on their hands. For fun. Although it wasn’t really fun because it kind of depressed her too.
“Nice place,” she managed hoarsely. She pushed the blanket aside. Her wrists and ankles were raw. She started to rub her wrist and then decided against it because it hurt more to touch it than to leave it be…
Darcy Branwyn 
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