Chapter five
That Thursday had started way too early—but in the best way. After what Sam had called, “the best morning sex of my life, we definitely need to do this again,” I was getting ready for work while he took a shower.
“She never hides the truth, and I think that’s amazing / It’s hard to find someone like this,” he sang at the top of his lungs, as if performing on stage. “She’s hardly a Greek goddess / but I love her with all of me.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled. His voice was beautiful, and he wasn’t even trying to stay on pitch.
“Even if I tried, this won’t end here / Even though she’s won this time / she says I’m not good enough.”
“But I can’t stay away,” I sang softly, keeping up with his loud performance. I peeked into the bathroom, and he winked at me. “If you keep this up, we’re going to get kicked out of the hotel. How am I supposed to explain that to the press? Can you imagine the headlines? Sam Martin kicked out of hotel for singing in the shower. ”
He burst into laughter. “Are you saying I’m not a good singer, Miss Vaughan?” He raised his eyebrows playfully.
“You just sang that I’m not a Greek goddess. Be grateful I’m being nice when I tell you to tone it down.”
“I didn’t say that.” He couldn’t stop laughing. “I was just singing my song.”
“Oh, I see,” I teased. “You sing that after having sex with me? Very classy. I’m flattered.”
“At least I said you’re honest and never hide the truth.” Sam shrugged, a mischievous smile on his face.
“You’re ridiculous.”
I let him finish his shower and went back to the room to get dressed. As I was putting on my shoes, Sam came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and making me jump.
“Greek goddess is the least of what you are,” he whispered, kissing the spot just behind my ear. He turned me around and looked into my eyes. “You’re my summer day in the middle of winter.”
I cupped his face and kissed him lightly. We stood there, gazing at each other for a few seconds, lost in our thoughts. Then my phone buzzed, reminding me the van was waiting for our team.
“You’re a lucky bastard to have me in your life!” I kissed him again and left, his laughter echoing in the room and bringing a smile to my face all the way to the elevator.
We were almost closing the deal with the Japanese team. The band had been present at the last meeting, and I got to learn more about their daily schedule. It was insane! The boys were kept on a tight leash by their management, and I started to consider doing the same with our artists. Compared to how this band was treated, we were practically mothering ours.
We spent a lot of time talking. I explained how we operated in Canada and shared my thoughts on how best to promote them. It was just a rough idea since I wouldn’t be the one guiding them directly. They said their biggest dream was to become as popular as BTS, and they were really grateful for the opportunity from Icon Records. That told me the issue was clearly with their management, who seemed intent on squeezing every penny they could out of the boys.
A text popped up on my phone, and I excused myself to go to the restroom so I could read it without being rude.
What are your plans for lunch today?
I giggled.
I’ll have lunch somewhere. You’ll have lunch exactly where I expect you to be: in my hotel room. People can’t see you, remember?
Sam was like a puppy—constantly needing to be kept in check. If you let him off the leash, he’d get himself into trouble. Unbelievable!
If I order food, people will know I’m here anyway! :( Come on, Lena, let’s meet somewhere. I can wear a hat and sunglasses. Please?
As if a hat and sunglasses were enough to hide that perfect jawline of his.
No. Period. I have to get back to work. See you later.
I turned off my phone and went back to the meeting. To my surprise, the band was signing their contract with Icon Records. There were five bottles of champagne and some very happy lawyers.
“I can’t believe we finally did it!” one of them exclaimed as I approached the group.
“It feels like heaven!” another murmured. “Thanks for all your help, Elena!”
“Just sign the damn thing so we can get out of here,” I joked, and we all laughed. “But first, I want a whole bottle of champagne to myself. I plan on getting drunk to celebrate the end of this torture.”
At lunch, we joined the Japanese team at a fancy restaurant just a couple of blocks from the office, conveniently close to the hotel too. I wouldn’t have to go back to work afterward, so it was perfect. And remember what I said about champagne? Well, Elena Vaughan had her own bottle and some ideas in mind. All I needed to do was get back to the hotel and meet a certain Canadian boy.
Lunch was going smoothly, although Rento had seated himself on my right and was asking a ton of questions that weren’t exactly appropriate for a work setting. I was trying to brush him off politely, but he was testing my patience.
And, of course, when things could go wrong, everything had to go wrong at once. The door to my left opened, and in walked an almost six-foot-five Sam Martin. At that exact moment, Rento decided to grab my hand and bring it to his chest. It was like a scene out of a slow-motion movie. On one side, Sam looked surprised to see me and clearly unsettled by the situation. On the other, I almost fainted when I realized he was outside the hotel and I wanted to punch Rento for the audacity of touching me without my consent. But things got even worse when Marco, one of Icon Records’ lawyers, recognized him.
“Sam!” he called out from across the table. “Hey, man, come over here! What are you doing in Japan? Did you know he was here, Elena?”
They greeted each other with a hug, and both sets of eyes turned to me. It was only when Marco said my name and gave me a confused look that I realized Rento was still holding my hand. I yanked it away and forced a smile.
“I didn’t,” I replied through gritted teeth. Sam gave me a quick hug, but it was long enough for me to whisper in his ear, “Any specific way you’d prefer to die?”
“So?” Marco persisted, clearly not letting this go anytime soon.
“Oh.” I could almost hear the gears turning in Sam’s head. “You know how it is; I’m looking for inspiration for my new album. I’ve wanted to visit Japan for a while, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. I just stopped by to pick up my lunch order.”
“That’s great.” Marco grinned. “Sometimes we need to step out of our comfort zone to create. Right, Elena?”
“Absolutely.” I was trembling with anger—furious at the sleazy guy who thought he had a shot with me, and equally frustrated with Sam for risking getting caught. I just wanted to strangle one of them, maybe both. “And you know what I think, Marco? This is a good sign. When our artists step outside their bubble, it always translates into incredible music. I’m sure Martin will deliver some masterpieces. So, how about we let him get back to his creative immersion?”
“And that’s why we love this girl and will never let her leave our team.” Marco smiled at me warmly. We’d always had a good relationship, and he’d often praised my work, regardless of the situation. He was much older and had a kind of fatherly affection for me. It was sweet and a little awkward at the same time. But he was a good guy. “Enjoy your time in Japan, Sam! See you back in Canada!”
We said our goodbyes, and I returned to my seat at the table.
“Is that your boyfriend?” Rento asked as soon as I sat down.
“Who, Sam?” He nodded. “Of course not! He’s a client of Icon Records and just a friend.”
“You hugged him.” Was the marketing specialist for the Japanese band... jealous? “You’ve never hugged me.”
“And I’m not going to,” I snapped. It was harsh, but he didn’t seem to get it. When his hand moved closer to my leg, I tipped my champagne glass just right, causing the pink liquid to spill straight into his lap. “Oh my God, Rento! I’m so sorry. Jesus, I’m so clumsy! I’m really sorry!”
After the chaotic scene of cleaning up the mess, the Japanese team decided it was time to get back to work. Well, for them. I was on my way back to the hotel, ready to commit a murder.
From the moment I left the restaurant until I reached the Keio Plaza, I managed to calm down a bit. Maybe I wouldn’t kill Sam after all, but he was definitely going to get a lecture.
I saw him as soon as I opened the door. He was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, wearing oversized headphones. The grin on his face told me he had something to share. “Can you hold off on murdering me for a minute?” Sam asked, looking anxious. “I’ve got something to show you.”
I tossed my bag onto our suitcases and sat down across from him. “What is it?”
He handed me the headphones, and I noticed they were plugged into his phone.
“The days you were here before I arrived, I went to the studio with the band. We recorded a song I wrote a while back, and the producer just sent it over. I know you’re on the marketing side, but since you know my music, I wanted you to hear it and tell me what you think.”
Hmm, that actually was good news. I smiled and squeezed his knee. I put on the headphones, adjusting them over my ears, and Sam hit play.
His voice sounded different—stronger, more self-assured. The melody was powerful, and the lyrics were raw and heartbreaking. He sang about anxiety, depression, and feeling overwhelmed to the point of wanting to give up. I looked over at him; he was biting his lower lip, clearly struggling to keep his, no surprise, anxiety in check.
In the song, he asked for help, spoke about feeling suffocated, and how people didn’t understand. They thought all he needed was a drink or a girl, as if his struggles were easy to solve. I found myself getting lost in the melody, remembering my own battles over the years. He was right—no medication could erase memories. I still had nightmares, and there were things I hadn’t moved past. It was almost too much, and I wanted to ask him to stop the song.
The high notes filled the headphones, and I closed my eyes. The song was so intense, full of emotion and truth, that I wondered if it was based on his real experiences. Had he really gone through all of that?
But he was also right in the song—it wasn’t his style to give up, no matter how overwhelming things felt. That’s why he asked for help.
When the final notes played, I felt drained. The song was so heavy, it seemed to sap my energy. I had tears in my eyes, and Sam looked worried. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I took off the headphones and handed them back to him. “Sam, this song is... deep.” I struggled to find the right word. “It’s beautiful, and it’s real. Did you really feel what you sang?”
Now I was the one who was worried. He had started his career so young, and the media could mess with anyone’s head.
“Sometimes, yeah.” He sighed. “Did you really like it?”
“Of course!” I was confused by his uncertainty. “I mean, I loved it and hated it at the same time. It’s an incredible song, but it deals with a really delicate subject. It could help a lot of people. Do you realize that?”
He looked unsure. “I don’t know. I’ve listened to it a few times, and while the melody is good, I can’t tell if I did a good job. Maybe we should just scrap it.”
“What?” For the first time, I saw him as more than the playful kid or the amazing lover. He was vulnerable, his insecurities filling the room. I knelt in front of him, cupping his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “If there’s something you’re not happy with, that’s fine. We can change it. But it’s a beautiful song, with incredible lyrics, and I’m not going to let you dismiss it.”
Sam gave me a shy smile, and I kissed him. For the first time, I wanted to shield him from the world.
“Can I listen to it again?” I asked, our lips still close. Sam handed me the headphones, and I settled into his lap. He wrapped his arms around me, and with my head resting on his chest, I closed my eyes and let the music take over.
It felt so good to be with him, even though I knew it was dangerous, considering what I had in mind for my future. Looking back, I couldn’t even remember why I kept pushing Sam away. I’d been angry, shocked, and had scolded him more than once, but I always ended up in his arms. The question was: why?
I didn’t love him; I knew that much. Maybe if our fling continued for too long, I could develop some sort of feelings. But for now, he was just someone I enjoyed spending time with. And, let’s be honest, the sex was amazing. It was funny, really—we barely knew each other. We hadn’t had any deep conversations. We spent time together, had sex a few times, and that was it. No profound talks that could change our lives. The song ended for the third time, and I took off the headphones.
“I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but we might have a single on our hands.” I smiled and kissed him softly. “Good boy!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I stood up and reached for my bag. “And I think we should celebrate!” I pulled out a bottle of champagne, grinning at Sam’s stunned expression. “I’ve decided to get drunk tonight, for the first time in my life.” I laughed.
“That’s going to be interesting,” he said. “You know champagne gets you drunk quickly, right?”
I handed him the bottle for him to open.
“We should play a game,” he suggested. “Truth or drink. I ask you a question, and if you don’t want to answer, you drink. Simple.”
“Right, the easiest games are usually the most dangerous.” I played some Maroon 5 on my phone and sat across from him. “What if we just answer everything? No one drinks?”
Sam thought for a moment. “Let’s change it to Truth and drink then.” He popped the cork and took a sip. I settled back on the pillows and put my feet in his lap. “Ready?” He passed me the bottle and started massaging my left foot.
“Okay.” I took a drink. “You start.”
“What was the last thing you Googled?”
“How to get back to the hotel from the restaurant. What was your most embarrassing moment in public?”
“I fell flat on my ass in front of eighty thousand people,” he said, laughing. “It was awful. What’s your lucky number and why?”
After each question, the bottle went back and forth between us. We knew this was a terrible idea, but we couldn’t stop.
“Seven, and I have no idea why. I’ve just always liked it. When was the last time you cried, and why?”
He blushed. “When I listened to the song today.”
I smiled. “It’s a beautiful song.”
“You’re my inspiration, Lena,” he admitted. “As long as I have your support, I know everything will be okay.”
It was my turn to blush. Sam smirked and asked his next question.
“How close have you come to cheating on someone?”
“Not close at all,” I said. “I can’t stand cheating.”
“By the way, who was that guy at the restaurant?”
“My turn, Martin.”
He rolled his eyes and took a long sip before handing me the bottle.
“He’s the marketing manager here. He was trying to convince me to have dinner with him, to ‘get to know each other better.’ Have you ever used someone else’s toothbrush?”
“Yeah, yours.”
I frowned. “What do you mean, mine? When?”
“After that first night, when I woke up at your place. I didn’t have one, so I used yours.”
“Gross!” I threw a pillow at him. “That’s disgusting!”
“Oh, come on.” He laughed. “Considering what you’ve put in your mouth, you’re really worried about a toothbrush?”
“You’re so romantic.”
Sam grinned. “Always. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done while drunk?”
“I’ve never been drunk.” I shrugged.
“Seriously? Why?”
“I got married too young and never had a wild phase. To be honest, I’m already feeling a bit dizzy. Let’s see how far I can go. What’s the biggest age gap you’ve had with a partner?”
“That’s easy. Ten years.”
I blinked. “Are you talking about me?”
“Yes. You’re the oldest woman I’ve ever slept with. Congrats, I guess.”
“Gee, thanks.”
We laughed, both clearly tipsy.
“Who’s the most scandalous person you’ve ever slept with?”
Ha. Here comes revenge.
“You.”
“Liar! I’m not scandalous. I’m quiet.”
“You’re WHAT?” I laughed. “You’re ridiculously loud during sex, Sam. I wish I could record you sometime.”
“Right. Said the queen of silence who never moans my name loud enough for the neighbours to hear.”
I poked him playfully. “I never claimed to be quiet.” I grinned. “But you definitely are loud! So, what’s the most humiliating thing that’s happened to you during sex?”
“Humiliating?” He rubbed his chin, thinking. “I don’t think I’ve ever had an experience like that—at least not one I can recall. Anyway, changing the subject. What’s that scar on your shoulder?”
I froze. I thought he hadn’t noticed, but how could he not? The scar started at the base of my neck and ran down to my arm—a thin line, but visible up close.
“I fell out of a second-story window and broke my collarbone. I needed surgery, and this is the result. Tell me something you couldn’t live without.”
“My family,” he said with a soft smile. “What’s the biggest secret you’re keeping from everyone in this room?”
Damn it. I stared at him, feeling the weight of the champagne in my system. I took one last, deep sip. After a few calming breaths, something pushed me to share. Maybe it was bravery—or just the alcohol loosening my tongue.
“I didn’t fall from the window. I jumped to escape my ex-husband, who was about to smash a crystal vase over my head.”
His eyes widened in shock. “Lena, I… I’m so sorry.” He struggled to process what I’d just said. It wasn’t a part of my past I ever wanted to revisit. “Is that what you dream about every night?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Do I talk in my sleep?”
“Well, yes,” he admitted, looking uncomfortable. “You say things like ‘please, don’t,’ ‘don’t hurt me,’ and ‘goodbye, Noah.’”
I dropped the empty bottle onto the bed and covered my face with both hands.
“Hey.” Sam moved closer and pulled me against him. My eyes burned, and I felt a knot tightening in my throat. “It’s okay. None of it was your fault, Lena.”
Even though I knew that, I couldn’t stop the flood of tears. I sobbed into his chest, feeling raw and exposed. The memories of those days with Noah rushed back, overwhelming me even after all this time. Sam kissed the top of my head and held me, trying to soothe my trembling body.
“I think I’m drunk,” I said, my voice muffled and shaky. “I can’t stop crying, and I don’t even know why!”
“Oh, God.” He chuckled softly. “We’ve just discovered you’re a crying drunk.”
I laughed weakly. “Sorry.”
He cupped my face and made me look into his eyes. “Never apologize for crying about what happened. It wasn’t your fault, and I’ll never let you feel like it was. And as for the drunk crying, we’ve all been there.”
Something warm and comforting blossomed inside me. I wasn’t sure if it was his steady voice or the concern in his eyes. He cared about me, deeply. I pulled him closer and kissed him, letting the alcohol blur the lines between us. Everything felt hazy, and I knew I’d regret it in the morning, but right now, I just wanted him.
A knock at the door startled us.
“Are you expecting someone?” Sam asked.
“No. Go hide in the bathroom; I’ll see who it is.”
“What? I’m not hiding in the bathroom!”
“Yes, you are.” I disentangled myself from his arms, and as soon as I stood, the room spun. Sam quickly steadied me. “I’m fine. God, how do you do this?”
“Do what?” He looked amused.
“Drink and still manage to walk straight.” Sam laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Seriously, go to the bathroom. I can’t explain why you’re in my room at this hour. It’s almost…”
“Eight.” He glanced at my phone and frowned. “You have sixteen missed calls from an unknown number.”
Another knock.
“I’ll deal with it later. Just go!”
Reluctantly, Sam slipped into the bathroom and closed the door. I took a deep breath and cracked open the door. My stomach dropped.
“Rento, what are you doing here?”
“Hi, Elena,” he slurred, trying to sound sensual but failing miserably. “Can I come in?”
“Um, no.” I was both shocked and, honestly, very drunk. “What’s going on? What do you want?”
“Marry me?” Rento’s smile was crooked, and he reeked of alcohol. “Just marry me, Elena.”
His voice was getting louder, and I started to panic. He was clearly more wasted than I was and was making a scene in the hotel hallway.
“Please, let me in.” He pushed against the door, and I held firm.
“Rento, you need to go home. I’m not marrying you. I don’t even know you!”
He completely misread the situation. After I spoke, he pushed harder and barged into the room, grabbing my wrist.
“Hey! Get out now!”
“I can fuck you, then we’ll get to know each other.” He tried to drag me further inside, his grip painfully tight. I was furious and stunned at the same time. A man like him couldn’t even notice the clothes on the chair beside the bed—another man’s clothes.
“Rento, let go of me!” I shouted, but I didn’t have to repeat myself. The next second, he was yanked away from me.
“She told you to get the hell out!” Sam’s voice echoed in the room as he restrained my colleague. His anger was palpable, and I shivered at the intensity.
“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my future wife’s room?” Rento yelled back.
When I turned to shut him up, the sight was surreal: Rento was flailing wildly, and Sam, with a towel wrapped around his head, was trying not to destroy him. Somehow, Rento broke free and managed to land a punch, splitting the skin above Sam’s eyebrow. Sam retaliated, hitting him twice—once in the face, then in the stomach—before throwing him out of the room. All I could do was stand there, wide-eyed.
Sam pulled off the towel and came over to me. “Are you okay?” He checked me over, his face bloody and worried. I let out an involuntary laugh, and his concern deepened.
“Is this what happens when people get drunk? Random guys show up proposing marriage?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Never happened to me, but they say everyone’s different when they’re drunk.” He kissed my forehead and wrapped me in a hug. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Come on, let’s take care of you.”
He sat on the bed, grunting as I dabbed at the cut above his eye with the towel. His hands moved up and down my legs, his touch reassuring.
“You looked ridiculous with that towel,” I teased. “Like a low-budget western villain.”
“I know.” He rolled his eyes. “But I’d rather look stupid than let something happen to you. And I know you’d kill me if someone recognized me.”
I stroked his cheek gently. “Thank you for saving me.”
“You’re welcome.” He held my hand to his face and smiled when I yawned. “Looks like you’re the kind of drunk who gets emotional and sleepy.”
“And you’re the kind of drunk who’s a brave idiot.” I rested my head against his.
“We’re a perfect match then,” he murmured. “You cry and sleep, and I take care of you.”
“Deal.”
We shared a slow, lingering kiss before he tucked me into bed.
“Sweet dreams, Lena.” He kissed my cheek, and I drifted off, surrendering to sleep.