Chapter 48 #2
Shutting off the water, I step out of the shower.
Steam billows out into the bedroom when I open the door.
One glance at the mussed up bed reawakens the panic, the feeling.
I can’t stay here another night. Another minute is already too long.
I’ll sleep in my car if I have to. I just need out.
To breathe the fresh fucking air in a place that doesn’t house the echoes of my internal screaming.
My clothing choice is somber. All black—no fun underwear or wacky shirts today. I robotically move through the room, suppressing the emotions as I collect all my things and pack them away.
Good riddance to this room, I’ll never be staying at this hotel again. They can blame Shantel for the steep decline they’ll see in revenue.
The door clicks shut at my back as I move to the elevator and press the button.
Once descended to the lobby, I casually cross to the administration desk.
It takes every ounce of remaining energy in me to keep composure as the bugs of disgust crawl beneath my skin.
Thankfully, the early check-out process goes off without a hitch, and there’s no extra hidden fees to dispute.
I’d have happily paid them just to get the fuck out of that tainted place faster, and bitched about the cost later.
Probably kicking myself about the added expense I could have fought against.
I already feel lighter as I step out into the early morning air, suitcases in hand. The open space loosens my chest, allowing me a full breath of fresh air as I cross the parking lot. I pack my things away safely in the trunk, then slip into the driver’s seat of the rented Jag.
The drive to the beach is short, my hands knowing the way even while my thoughts are scattered.
The lapping of the waves never fails to soothe me.
I crave the rhythmic breaking of them against the shore, admire their persistence to form again, only to dissipate to nothing.
Over and over, cursed to live in a never-ending cycle.
The tide’s on its way back in this early in the morning, but I should have just enough time to enjoy the sunrise before the ocean swallows the faraway sandbar.
There’s not a soul to be seen here before daybreak, which is exactly how I like it.
I leave my shoes, shirt, and belongings in the car.
Feeling the toasty sand beneath my feet and between my toes, the residual heat from the sun warming me, I stroll to the water’s edge.
The cool water rushes over the tops of my feet, chills racing through my body with every step I take.
The ocean’s embrace is loud, but my mind’s louder. The swirling of the water around my body’s nothing in comparison to the painful touch that caresses like broken glass across my skin. The rush of the waves in my ears doesn’t drown out the whimpering cries.
Why isn’t this helping?
The ocean always washes my anguish away with its reliable ebb and flow. Wipes the slate clean for the day to start anew.
I’d lie here for eternity staring at the stars, willingly let the ocean take me away to the briny deep, if it wasn’t for Kyle and Bucky. I couldn’t do that to them—sentence them to a life of forever wondering with no closure.
My torment rises with the tide, water now rushing over me with almost no resistance. Sitting up, the sandbar has disappeared beneath shallow ripples, soon to be too deep to touch the bottom.
But I think I’ll stay just a bit longer to watch the way the sun breaks the horizon.
Something unknown thrums beneath my skin as I wait for the ornate iron gate of Bleakcrest to open.
Eagerness? Excitement? Arousal? I can’t place the feeling, and it’s irritating the hell out of me.
I don’t like this new emotion, this longing in my chest I’ve felt every time I’ve walked out on her.
A desire to return that’s impossible to ignore.
Is it Rose? Or the need to infiltrate Bleakcrest so thoroughly that no one notices my presence from being there so often?
I didn’t give Maximus a time to expect my arrival, just the heads up that I’d be back. But it’s bright and fucking early, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, or why I’m here. It’s only been a handful of hours since I left, and I can’t imagine the inhabitants of this whorehouse are even awake.
A fresh fruit platter sits on the passenger seat next to me, questioning me right back. Why did I buy it? I don’t eat breakfast. I’m usually three coffees deep before I register the hunger pulling at my gut. When I do eat, it’s a semi-stale bagel that’s probably past its expiration date.
Who knows what kind of slop they feed the inhabitants of Bleakcrest, but Rose looks like she hasn’t been eating properly at all. Hopefully she’s not allergic to any of the shit on this platter, and eats without issue.
She’s one of the more integral cogs of this plan, the least I can do is ensure she’s fed properly.
That’s a solid reason I can cling to, so I intend to do just that.
Stick. To. The. Plan.
This plan, her plan.
Stay strong—focused. Don’t fucking deviate. There’s too much at stake.
The gate moves on its own. Whoever runs the security team finally granting me access. My foot leaves the brake, gently pressing on the gas as I follow the winding driveway, pulling into my spot from last night.
Circling back to my thoughts, the food makes sense.
I take pride in my possessions. Before this plan was set in motion, my vehicle was spotless, running without issue.
The house is clean and well cared for. I may have ridden my partners hard and put them away wet, but they never left feeling unappreciated.
No matter what they went through, they got something.
It just wasn’t me. Sometimes that wasn’t enough for them, and things were terminated.
I wasn’t in it for emotions. I’ve never felt that way about anyone.
There was a time where I thought maybe it would work with Shantel, but once she hopped on my dick and followed me around like a lost puppy, I lost interest. After last night, I may have to cut ties with her altogether.
The thought of her sickens me. This trip to the mainland will have to be the deciding factor since she’ll be accompanying Kyle and I.
I don’t want a follower.
I don’t want anybody.
But if that’s the case, why am I here at the ass crack of dawn with breakfast and a pretty little dress I want Rose to wear for me when I return from my trip?
Fuck.
It’s fine.
I’m fine.
Just a business man smitten with his whore like the plan requires.
If I say it enough, maybe I’ll believe it.