3. Sloane #2
Standing in nothing but her black sports bra and matching panties, she felt more exposed than she had in years. Not because of her state of undress, but because of where she was. This level of comfort, this degree of safety—it was foreign territory.
A shower. That's what I need. Hot water and twenty minutes to think.
But the ensuite bathroom made her breath catch in her throat.
Marble surfaces gleamed under soft lighting that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere.
The shower alone was larger than her entire bathroom back home, with a rainfall showerhead that looked like it belonged in a five-star resort.
Glass walls revealed heated floors, fluffy towels that probably cost more than her monthly grocery budget, and amenities arranged with hotel-level precision.
I've seen bathrooms like this in movies. Never in real life.
She moved to the shower controls, running her fingers over chrome fixtures that gleamed like jewelry.
The system was more complex than anything she'd ever encountered—multiple heads, steam options, temperature controls that looked like they belonged on a spaceship.
After a moment of experimentation, hot water cascaded from above like warm rain, steam began to rise, and she stepped under the flow with a sigh that seemed to come from her bones.
The water pressure was perfect, and the temperature was exactly what her battered body craved.
And for once, her muscles began to unclench as the heat worked its way through the tension she'd been carrying for far too long.
How long can I really stay here?
The question surfaced as she reached for what had to be the most expensive shampoo she'd ever touched. Even if they gave her a job—and that was a big if—places like this didn't come cheap. Her eleven thousand dollars might last a month if she was careful, maybe two if she was lucky. But then what?
Maybe I could fit in here.
The thought surprised her with its intensity. She'd been thinking about Ronan and Kozue since Kozue had left her room, trying to make sense of the way they'd looked at her and the way they'd reacted when she'd shaken Ronan's hand and brushed against Kozue's fingers.
That electric shock feeling. What the hell was that about?
She worked shampoo through her hair, letting the familiar routine calm her racing thoughts.
But her mind kept circling back to the two men who'd welcomed her here without question.
The way Ronan's blue eyes had seemed to see straight through her defenses and the way Kozue's smile had made her feel safe for the first time in years.
You don't get involved with guys. Not really. Not beyond a night or two.
That had always been her rule. Keep things simple. Keep them temporary. Don't let anyone close enough to disappoint you. But the attraction she'd felt to both men had been immediate and overwhelming in a way that made no logical sense.
They're probably brothers. Or at least they act like it. Getting involved with one would be complicated enough, but being attracted to both of them?
She rinsed the shampoo from her hair with more force than necessary, as if she could wash away the confusion along with the suds.
You're just overwhelmed. That's all this is.
The rational part of her mind supplied the explanation she wanted to hear. She'd had a traumatic night. She was in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by luxury she wasn't used to. It made perfect sense that she'd feel drawn to the first two men who'd shown her kindness and safety in years.
It's not attraction. It's gratitude mixed with exhaustion and adrenaline crash.
But even as she told herself that, she could still feel the phantom tingle where Ronan's hand had touched hers. Could still remember the way Kozue's green eyes had darkened when he'd looked at her.
She reached for the body wash—something that smelled like vanilla and sandalwood—and began working it over her skin. The scent was intoxicating, making her feel more feminine than she had in months of living in sports bras and workout clothes.
This will pass by morning. All of it. The attraction, the confusion, this weird feeling like I belong here.
She finished washing and stood under the rainfall of hot water for several more minutes, letting it carry away the last of her fight with Roxy, the terror of those men in the alley, and the exhaustion of a year spent fighting just to survive.
When she finally turned off the water, the bathroom was filled with steam that made everything look soft and dreamlike. She wrapped herself in a towel that was so plush it felt like being embraced by a cloud and caught another glimpse of herself in the now-fogged mirror.
Tomorrow I'll figure out what's next. Tonight, I just need to sleep.
The bedroom felt even more surreal when she emerged from the bathroom.
The king-sized bed dominated the space, dressed in linens that looked like they'd never been slept in.
She dropped the towel and slipped between sheets that were softer than anything she'd ever experienced in her entire life.
The mattress seemed to cradle her body, supporting her in ways that made her realize just how much tension she'd been carrying for twenty-six years.
You're only staying here until you figure out your next move. That's all.
But as she settled into the most comfortable bed of her life, surrounded by safety and luxury she'd never known existed, Sloane found herself wondering if maybe—just maybe—she'd finally found a place where she could stop running for a while.
Sleep claimed her before she could finish the thought, pulling her into the deepest rest she'd had since she was six years old.