Chapter Seventeen
Some twenty minutes later, the driver pulled the vehicle up in front of a towering luxurious hotel. The name Apex Tower gleamed in gold lettering across the floor-to-ceiling glass facade, each letter illuminated against the dark night.
A grand stone portico stretched over the entrance, with a dramatic waterfall cascading down a towering sheet of glass behind marble columns. The water caught a spotlight overhead and ripples of gold reflected across the marble floor.
Before our driver had even come to a complete stop, a uniformed doorman appeared at Reuben’s side of the car. His burgundy coat was immaculate, brass buttons polished to a mirror shine, white gloves pristine despite the late hour.
“It’s good to see you again, Chief,” he said with genuine warmth as he opened the door.
The doorman then moved smoothly to my side, helping me out with the same professional courtesy onto the marble walkway.
I glanced at Reuben as he emerged from the other side of the car. “You come here often?”
He shrugged, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes. “Occasionally, yes. To celebrate a win.”
The casual way he said it made my stomach twist. I wanted to ask about the other women he’d brought here, how many of them had stood in this same spot, dazzled by the same luxury.
But deep down, I didn’t want to know the answer.
Some truths were better left buried, especially when I was already questioning everything I thought I knew.
The lobby was all marble and crystal, our footsteps echoing across the polished floor as we approached the reception desk.
A woman in a tailored black suit greeted Reuben by name before he even spoke.
No questions about identification or credit cards, just a smooth exchange of pleasantries and a gold door card slipped discreetly across the mahogany surface.
“The penthouse is ready for you, sir, as always,” she said with a smooth smile.
I glanced at him. No one in this posh hotel seemed to care about Reuben’s bloodied or sweaty body, or that he was dressed in little more than his fighter’s robe.
I grimaced as I looked down at my men’s shirt and jeans.
I might be cleaner, but I was no better dressed, though realistically, the shirt was likely worth a small fortune.
We stepped into a soundless elevator, its mirrored walls reflecting us back—seemingly mocking us. The numbers climbed steadily: 15, 20, 25, until finally stopping at P.
The doors whispered open to reveal a private foyer that led directly into the suite.
The room was understated and opulent. Black marble tiles stretched beneath our feet while matching walls soared upward, punctuated by warm gold downlights that cast everything in a honeyed glow.
Shadowed glass doors whispered open to reveal the suite beyond, where floor-to-ceiling windows stretched endlessly across the far wall, creating an unbroken canvas of the glittering city below.
The white kitchen stood out, stark against a black kitchen island and white stools.
The furniture was luxurious. Deep fawn leather sofas, gleaming wood tables, carefully placed sculptures and artwork that would have commanded attention in any gallery.
But against the backdrop of the sprawling cityscape, even these priceless pieces seemed secondary to the view that dominated everything.
“This is a little larger and grander than your home,” I said, unable to keep the awe from my voice.
He grinned carelessly, as if this level of luxury was perfectly ordinary. “Isn’t it? Makes me appreciate it all the more.”
He shrugged out of his fighter’s robe, my mouth drying at the visual feast of his corded muscles that seemed enhanced by the dried sheen of his sweat, his inked, No fear, no failure across his collarbone reminding me he’d fought hard in every way to get where he was now.
While Adam had relied on his brilliant, analytical mind, Reuben had used his body, his strength and his street smarts. I hid a scowl. Why did I think of Adam at the most inopportune moments?
Reuben folded his robe over his forearm. “I’m going for a long, hot shower. Join me if you like.”
I swallowed hard. “Thank you, but no.” I glanced at the mahogany bar with its assortment of glass bottles. “I might help myself to a drink.”
Likely more than one. I knew next to nothing about adult vices. But I wanted to live a little, experience some of the sins I’d missed out on.
Reuben smiled, a glint of amusement in his stare. “Help yourself. I’ll join you when I get out.”
I approached the gleaming bar, its surface reflecting the city lights streaming through the windows. The bottles caught my attention with their warm amber liquid inside, each bottle bearing elaborate labels I’d never seen before.
I picked up the nearest bottle, turning it to read the gold lettering. Macallan Single Malt Scotch Whisky, Aged 18 Years. The bottle felt substantial in my hands, expensive. This was what humans turned to for comfort and for celebration, not to mention for escape from their troubles.
I retrieved a heavy crystal tumbler, then unscrewed the bottle’s cap. The rich, smoky scent hit me immediately, so different from anything I’d ever drank. Though Adam had provided clean, refreshing drinking water at his home, the facility’s water had been smelly and tinged with green.
Without hesitation, I poured until the glass was nearly full, the amber liquid catching the overhead lights. I raised the drink to my lips and took what I thought was a reasonable sip.
It hit my throat like liquid fire and I immediately started spluttering, my eyes watering as the burn traveled down to my chest. The taste was overwhelming, smoke and oak and something toxic and harsh.
This was what humans enjoyed? I stared at the innocent-looking amber liquid with newfound respect. How did they consume something so...aggressive?
But as the initial shock faded, I noticed something else. Warmth spread through my chest, and my muscles became looser, less tense. There was something almost pleasant about the sensation, even if the taste was brutal.
I took another sip, smaller this time, prepared for the burn. Then another.
The warmth was spreading now, making me feel bold, reckless even. I’d never experienced anything like this loosening in my limbs, this gentle buzzing in my head.
The floor-to-ceiling windows beckoned, and I noticed a door I hadn’t seen before, a glass panel that opened onto what looked like a balcony. One that wasn’t off-limits to me. I smiled, more than a little exhilarated. Fresh air was exactly what I needed.
I stepped outside with my drink, the cool night breeze hitting my flushed face. The city sprawled endlessly below, a carpet of twinkling lights that pulsed with life. Car horns echoed faintly from the streets far below. At this height, a slight tang of exhaust fumes mingled with the cleaner air.
My wings fluttered beneath my shirt, seeking respite from where they lay flat and folded on my back.
My smile dropped and I placed my drink on a glass table before I moved closer to the railing, gripping it with both hands.
I had to be more careful in hiding my true self.
It didn’t stop an overwhelming urge to leap and spread my wings wide, and soar through the dark air.
The longing was so intense it took away my breath.
But then the lights below slowly came back into focus. The distant sounds of the city. The faint scent of fumes and decay.
Reality hit me like a sledgehammer.
Had I done the right thing leaving Adam? Our chemistry had been undeniable. The way he’d looked at me, the way he’d touched me with such careful reverence. If he’d asked me to join him in the shower, would I have said no?
I gripped the railing tighter, my knuckles whitening. The honest answer scared me.
“There you are,” Reuben said, his step predator-light behind me. “For a second I thought you might have run away.”
I released my grip, then turned around to face him.
The hotel’s white robe was knotted around his corded waist, his pale hair darkened slightly from being wet, his skin clean and smelling of cedar-wood soap.
A bandage poked out from the opened part of his robe.
Good. He’d taken the time to dress his wound.
I retrieved my crystal glass, then gulped another mouthful of my drink, needing liquid courage to face such brazen masculinity. “I only seem to run when I’m forced to stay,” I admitted, my voice sounding small at such a height outside.
He stared at me silently, reading me. I resisted shuffling my feet when he suddenly smiled and said huskily, “Let me get you another drink and I’ll get one for myself.”
He disappeared back inside. A moment later, soft music began filtering through hidden speakers somewhere in the balcony’s ceiling, something low and sultry that wrapped around my senses even as it thickened the night air.
I laughed quietly to myself, feeling giddy and strangely happy. No wonder humans drank! Everything seemed enhanced somehow, more possible.
I drained the last few mouthfuls of whisky just as Reuben returned with two fresh glasses. He handed me mine and raised his own. I realized then that our drinks only had a small amount of amber liquid at the bottom, much less than what I’d poured.
Little wonder I was feeling its effects.
“To new beginnings,” he said, that rough fighter’s voice somehow made more intimate by the night and the music.
Our glasses clinked, and I found myself swaying toward him, drawn by something I couldn’t name. I took another few gulps, the burn now familiar and welcome.
Only then did he set both our glasses aside. “Dance with me,” he said simply.
I leaned into his space without hesitation, suddenly aware of everything about him.
His amber scent mixed with the masculine, cedar-wood soap, the hard planes of muscle visible beneath the white robe.
When his hands encircled my waist, I should have tensed.
His fingers were so close to where my wings lay hidden.
But the alcohol, the music, the way he looked at me, somehow, I didn’t even mind.
As we swayed together, he leaned down to whisper in my ear, his breath warm against my lobe. “You’re so beautiful, so special. I don’t blame Adam for trying to keep you.”
I tensed at the mention of Adam’s name, at the inexplicable need for him burning through me, but the alcohol soon wrapped everything in a soft haze. The warning bells that should have been clanging were now muffled and distant.
Reuben’s fingers pressed a little harder, more possessively into my lower back. “Honestly, I know we haven’t known one another for that long, but I feel the same way,” he continued, his voice low and intimate. “I want you all to myself.”
I looked up at him, but his face seemed to blur at the edges. For a moment, there was two of him staring down at me. I blinked hard several times until he came back into focus, just one Reuben again. I bit back a sudden urge to giggle. “You do?” I managed to whisper instead.
If I was teetering close to hysteria, he appeared to be solemn and serious. Instead of answering with words, he lifted his arms and cupped my face in his hands, then kissed me.
The kiss lingered, deepening into something that made my head spin more than the whisky ever could. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else there too, something tender that made my heart race.
“Come inside,” he whispered against my lips, his hands gentle as they guided me back through the glass door.
When we stepped into the bedroom, it was bathed in soft golden light from the city beyond the windows.
Reuben moved with careful deliberation, as if I was something precious that might break.
He stopped near the luxurious bed, his fingers tracing my jawline, my throat, sending shivers through me that had nothing to do with the night air.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice rough with concern.
“I’m nervous,” I admitted, the alcohol making me more honest than I might have been otherwise.
“We don't have to—“
“I want to,” I interrupted, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice, with the knowledge I really did want him.
Adam might have broken my hymen, but he’d left me unfulfilled.
I was no longer a virgin but I was still na?ve.
I wanted to feel what other women did, I wanted to embrace my sexuality, celebrate it.
I managed a smile. “I want this. With you.”
His answering smile was soft, almost reverent. “You’re incredible, Bella. So brave, so beautiful.”
When he went to grab the hem of my borrowed shirt, reality began to cut through the whisky haze.
This was it. The moment I’d dreaded and longed for in equal measure.
There would be no hiding once the fabric came away.
No pretending to be something I wasn’t. Even intoxicated, even dizzy with desire, there was startling clarity in the moment.
Either way, I couldn’t let him touch Adam’s shirt. It didn’t feel...right. I stepped back, Reuben’s hands falling away. My own hands shook as I undid the shirt’s buttons, one-by-one. His eyes followed my movement, confusion flickering across his features.
“Reuben,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something you need to know about me. Something...different.”
“Different how?” His voice was gentle, encouraging.
I closed my eyes, took a shuddering breath, and slowly drew the shirt off my shoulders.