Chapter 41
VICTOR
I pat the sweat away from my forehead with the gym towel and sigh. It has been a damn good session in the hotel gym today. I feel the pump in my arms – the blood rushing to strengthen my muscles after ripping them apart with dumbbells and squat racks. It sounds absurd to say, but it gives me a manly feeling to throw weights around. Primal. My testosterone fills me up and makes me want to fuck something...
Damn, I’m always so horny after working out.
I like it down here in the gym. Sure, I could get someone to install some workout equipment in the hotel suite, but I much prefer riding down the elevator to the hotel’s exclusive gym to work out. Only the top-paying guests have access to this space, but that’s already much more public than I’m used to. Being famous really restricts where you can be and what rooms you can safely stay in, so the chance to do something semi-public is very much welcomed.
That is unless you’re approached by someone who isn’t giving you a respectful space...
And that’s what’s going down right now after my workout, in the gym’s sauna.
Some man is strolling up to me.
And I’m not appreciating it. Not in the slightest.
All he is wearing is a towel wrapped around his waist. Nice. He’s holding another towel in his hands. He’s completely naked apart from those two towels. He’s some rich businessman, I presume. Sweaty with a wide, dumb face - he’s grinning at me like an idiot. I don’t know how he’s earned the huge sums of money required to stay at this luxury hotel, but it’s certainly not from his brains.
He hasn’t said a word to me yet, but I can tell he’s aiming straight for me. He wants to engage. Over the years of fame, I’ve developed a sense of when people recognizing me, and this man definitely knows who I am as he strolls confidently across the sauna. It’s like there’s a target painted on me, and he’s a homing missile.
Here we fucking go.
Yeah, I’m not ready for another one of these interactions.
“Love your work,” the man says in one breath when he reaches my side, sitting down next to me in a closeness that intrusively breaches my personal space, but which he doesn’t seem to care about.
We’re both sweating profusely in a hot, steamy room. We’re both nearly naked. We’re both experiencing very high temperatures. We both shouldn’t be having this conversation.
And he really shouldn’t be sitting next to me.
Anywhere else other than this fancy hotel and this man might be welcoming my fists right about now...
“Thanks, man,” I reply sternly. “I’m just trying to relax at the moment, maybe I could chat to you outside when I’m finished?”
The man ignores me and instead leans in so close that I can smell his bad breath.
“You weren’t so good in that movie... I can’t remember the name of it...”
“I’m sure you’re remembering wrong. I’m never bad.”
The man chuckles.
“I want you to sign something,” he says. “My son wouldn’t believe I spoke to you, so I’m gonna need proof.”
I raise an eyebrow and look at him.
“And what would you like me to sign?” I ask.
The man glances down at what he’s holding.
“Sign my towel.”
My eyes drift over to the sweaty towel he’s gripping.
And I just laugh. And I stand up and walk out before he can even say another word.
Nope. Not the towel.
I get changed and I don’t see the man again, thankfully. I don’t put up with bullshit for long.
I check myself out in the gym mirror.
And then I head to my private elevator that takes me up to my exclusive suite.
I stroll in and lazily dump my gym bag by the elevator door. I continue towards the bedroom. Josie should be here somewhere...
And then I hear her. Coming from the bedroom.
Crying.
She’s crying.
I pause.
Fuck.
It’s obvious she’s in pain. The whole divorce and separation thing must have really fucked her up.
And I realize that, for once in my life, I don’t know what to do right now. I have never dealt with a crying girl before - I grew up in a family of brothers. I don’t know how to reassure Josie.
You’ve got to do something, Victor. You are her fake boyfriend, after all. You clearly care for her...
And so I take in a deep breath and I knock on the bedroom door and pray for the best.
“Come in.”
I slowly push open the door. Josie is sitting on the bed; her phone is turned on beside her. She must’ve just read something. A message? She’s got a towel wrapped around her. She’s freshly showered.
And her face is red. Streaks of tears. She’s really been crying hard.
What do I do?
I just smile.
“Hey,” I say as the girl looks up at me with utter sadness. “How about we go for a walk?”