*Rose*

“Drugged?” I repeat Tristan’s word out loud, mostly to myself. It makes sense, considering how awful Mark looks, but I’m worried. After all, the chef was drugged—poisoned—and she died. “Is he going to be okay?” I ask.

“Probably,” Eli assures me, his hand on my shoulder. “It’s probably some kind of a roofie, something that was meant to make him sleep so she could set it up like they were having sex.”

“But, I have to wonder, the way that ...