Amanda was thankful that the Youtube recommended hangover cures were finally starting to kick in when she rang Devon Hamilton's doorbell. He apparently had no staff, the man himself answered the door on the second ring. A very nice looking African American young man in his early thirties with close cropped hair and a goatee. She recognized him immediately from her previous research and he was far more handsome in person than in pictures.

Of course this was not going to be a friendly visit so she was prepared to be met with disdain or perhaps even outright hostility. No one would want to give up the billions they've been enjoying for years. Devon Hamilton's inheritance made him an instant celebrity. He'd been featured in a number of magazine articles, even GQ, and was voted one of the sexiest men alive.

She also read that he was very down to earth and humble. Well, we'll see about that Amanda thought when she extended her hand. It's easy to be nice when you're loaded. Let's see how this so called nice guy is when justice is done and it's not in his favor. "Devon Hamilton, I'm Amanda Sinclair. Thank you for meeting with me today," she said, feeling confident as ever. Finally she was able to put her faux pas from the night before behind her. She was no longer a silly woman who somehow got caught up in a drunken one night stand with a stranger. Right now she was a kick ass attorney once again.

Devon looked at her outstretched hand, then slowly his gaze slid up to her face and he stared at her unblinking, his eyes growing wider with each passing second as he seemed to be examining every single feature so intensely she felt like even her pores were under his scrutiny.

At first Amanda thought it was a stare down contest like two boxers facing off in the ring before the fight. Men, she scoffed to herself. Must testosterone factor into every damn thing? She'd been through this before men trying to psyche her out, especially since she was small in stature. So she stared back at him, unafraid, also not blinking until she realized there was no challenge in the man's eyes. In fact if she was reading him right, he appeared to be down right horrified.

Amanda tolerated his rudeness for about half a minute. It's one thing to be intimidated by the presence of a highly successful, supremely educated, black, female attorney, and another to refuse to shake her hand. She dropped her proffered hand to her side and began again, "Mr. Hamilton, I…"

"You…" Devon choked out the one word and grabbed his chest. His breathing becoming labored and he staggered. Amanda instinctively dropped her briefcase and reached out to break his fall, grabbing him under his arms, practically toppling over herself in her high heels. Devon Hamilton was far heavier than he appeared. Was he having a heart attack? A young man in his prime? Damn! Did he really love his money that much?

"Help!" Amanda called out into the penthouse apartment as she tried her best to keep the poor man from collapsing onto the floor. "Is anybody home?"

She prayed that a staff member or someone was home and could assist with the situation. Didn't she read somewhere that his girlfriend was a doctor? The last thing she wanted to do was call 911. Imagine the publicity. The press was already going to have a field day once they learned about her client challenging Katherine Chancellor's will. Imagine the headlines if Devon Hamilton had to be rushed to the hospital before negotiations even started.

Was this some sort of sympathy ploy Amanda wondered as she stumbled into the penthouse trying to balance Devon on her shoulder as he struggled to walk next to her. Once she entered the foyer, she followed a hallway that led to a living room. "Help! Anybody!" She called again. An older woman was in the living room, but instead of trying to offer assistance, she dropped the glass she was holding, allowing it to crash on the ground while she screamed: "Who are you? What are you doing? What the hell is this?"

This was now one of the most bizarre situations she'd ever encountered in her entire career as an attorney. Amanda bypassed the screaming older woman assuming she was some sort of crazy aunt or other relative and attempted to deposit Devon on a white couch, that is until a man sauntered into the living room with a glass of orange juice. She gasped in shock. No! It can't be.

It was not just any man but the man she spent a shameful drunken night with and slipped away from at dawn this morning.

William...Sleeping Beauty….Sleeping Billy…

He was fully awake now and quite handsome dressed business casual in a shirt with no tie, slacks and a jacket. Tho he must also have been suffering the consequences of their night of drinking, he did not show it. And he was tall. Well over six feet. She should have known since his body barely fit on the motel room bed. Today she wore heels, still he towered over her.

Upon seeing William again, it was her turn to want to faint and scream. Immediately, she let go of Devon and he might have stumbled face first into a coffee table if he did not get his bearings in time. Almost on instinct, Amanda took a few steps toward William. Was she dreaming? He stared back at her with confused yet silent recognition. He had beautiful clear brown eyes framed by spiky black lashes. Thank God, he didn't say a word.

"What kind of a sick joke is this?" She heard Devon say from behind her disrupting the heated staredown between her and William.

That's exactly what I want to know, Amanda thought. She had to be still asleep in her bed at the Grand Phoenix having a nightmare. Even in a dream state she knew to keep her mouth shut until she figured out exactly what was going on. Was this a set up? Had this William person known who she was at the bar and gotten her drunk on purpose to stop her from meeting with Devon? But then what would be his motive and why would he drink alongside her if he was up to no good? Maybe he got her drunk to get information out of her. That also made no sense. Even if she blabbed to him about the case against Devon Hamilton that wouldn't make the will any less fraudulent.

"Answer him. Damn it. What the hell is this? Who are you? Who sent you?" The older woman demanded. Amanda turned back to face them while surreptitiously pinching her wrist. She didn't wake up so this wasn't a dream. Devon and the woman stood side by side gaping at her as if they'd seen a ghost.

Amanda squared her shoulders, straightened her spine and reminded herself that she graduated at the top of her class and was a sought after attorney for a reason. Although it would not be easy, she decided she would attempt to ignore William's presence, sensing that he was not directly involved in the proceedings and was there by some sort of strange Twilight Zone coincidence. Her skill as an attorney meant she could win, no matter how weird the circumstances. Her only concern in his regard was that he would say something about their one night stand, which she also sensed he would not do in front of the older woman. Once she felt her confidence begin to return, she said, "I'm Amanda Sinclair and by your warm welcome, I can surmise I'm probably your worst nightmare."