Chapter Six
Claire
“Looks like fate,” he said with that disarming smile, the same one that seemed to pull me into a trance the night before.
He stood before me, dressed in an all-black suit, crisply tailored and hugging in all the right spots, just like the night before.
This time, without a tie, giving him a more casual and relaxed appearance.
I blinked slowly, processing the whiplash that was occurring. First, the extended stay, and now…him.
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “I have no idea what’s wrong with your roads,” I said, frustration seeping into my voice.
He chuckled softly and shrugged. “That sort of thing happens from time to time. Generally, in the winter, though. Odd that it would occur in August.”
I grasped the handle of my suitcase, trying to shake off the bewildering situation.
As I started heading down the corridor toward the garden villas, he fell into step behind me.
The quiet clatter of our footsteps and my suitcase wheels gliding along the tile was the only sound between us, other than the distant echoes of the fountain in the lobby.
I stopped abruptly and turned to him, my voice sharp as I asked, “What are you doing here?”
His smile did not waver, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity as he replied, “Oh, I was working, like most people do.”
I rolled my eyes and continued making my way down the long corridor to the garden.
I could practically hear the frustration in his exhale as he picked up pace to catch up to me again, calling out to me as he did so, “I did not mean to intrude. I was hoping you might take me up on my offer.” His tone heightened with excitement.
“The stars have aligned…I happened to be heading to the office when I saw you at reception.”
I sighed, my gaze wandering down the hallway in search of the garden villas. “It’s fine,” I huffed, my tone reluctant.
I let this man distract me once. That won’t happen again.
His voice was warm and inviting, as opposed to mine. “Do you need help finding your way? I know this place like the back of my hand.”
I came to a fork in the hallway, unsure which one would take me where I needed to go.
My shoulders dropped as I confronted the fact that I did, in fact, need his help.
My hands rested on my hip as I snapped toward him, responding with as much appreciation as I could muster at the present, “Umm, yeah. The garden villa suites?”
“Yes, I can help with that,” he replied smoothly, a satisfied smile forming across his lips. “But what is your room number?” He glanced over his shoulder toward the lobby, as if checking to make sure no one was listening.
I paused, my heart beating faster in my chest than it was a second ago.
“I am sorry to pry,” he said gently, as if he could sense my unease. “I can imagine you are on high alert, traveling alone in a foreign country. But the rooms split off around the courtyard so unless you like to wander in circles, a room number is necessary.”
I took a deep breath to steady myself, responding dryly, “Villa Twelve.”
I’m not sure why this man has me so nervous today.
Maybe it’s what Jennifer said about women going missing?
“Right this way,” he said, extending his arm to the left and using his right hand to take the handle of my suitcase. “May I?”
I hesitated before handing him my suitcase, adjusting my black cotton dress with my now-free hands. A small sense of relief washed over me as he took the burden.
We walked down the corridor in silence, passing through the garden that lay at the heart of the property.
The sunlight made the roses in the garden appear even more vibrant, their shades of red, pink, yellow, and white illuminated as it began to peek through the terracotta-colored tile rooftops lining the open garden courtyard.
As we reached Villa Twelve, his demeanor was unflappable. “Here we are,” he said, a note of satisfaction in his voice.
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice quieter now. I approached the door and, on autopilot, placed the room key against the magnetic lock.
He moved quickly, opening the door with ease before I could stop him. “After you,” he said, his voice a little too smooth.
I stepped inside, still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions that the day had brought. Jennifer Mora, missing women, the unexpected extension of my stay, the encounter with the unnamed man—everything seemed to blend in a disorienting haze.
Maybe I’m jetlagged? Or hungover?
As I stepped into the suite, I couldn’t help but let out a breathless, “Wow.”
Before me was the most elegant, luxurious hotel room I had ever set foot in.
I breathed in the subtle scent of wood and rose as my eyes locked on the bed.
Before me, the massive, pristine, impossibly soft queen bed sat along the far wall—the crisp white linens and an overfilled down comforter beckoning me.
I wandered around the space, my fingers brushing lightly over the sumptuous fabrics and polished surfaces.
Meanwhile, the unnamed stranger rolled my suitcase across the gleaming marble floor, guiding it to the far corner of the room.
With a flick, he drew back the sheer curtains that framed a breathtaking view of the garden.
Without thinking, I fell back onto the bed, stretching out with a sigh of pure contentment.
The down comforter enveloped me, drawing me deeper into its inviting depths.
I kicked off my shoes and heard them clatter onto the polished floor as my body sank into the sea of pillows and luxurious blankets.
He stood silently at the foot of the bed; his gaze fixed on me with an intensity I couldn’t quite place.
There was something restrained about him.
Fascination in his eyes, tension in his jaw, his stance just a little too still, as if holding back from something he wanted.
One eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms over his chest and scanned my body from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, a look of satisfaction forming on his face.
I looked up at him, still marveling at the room’s opulence, but trying desperately to get control over the unfolding events. “I’m sorry, this room is amazing. It’s honestly the nicest room I’ve ever been in.” I practically gushed as I reached for the comforter, feeling it pull me into its embrace.
His eyes met mine as they reflected a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. His smooth voice filled the space around me. “I am pleased that you like it, Claire.”
I paused, bringing myself up onto my elbows, before speaking. “You know. I feel so stupid. I never got your name last night. Unless you told me, and I just had too much wine.”
“It is Arik. Spelled A-R-I-K,” he said, breaking the spell of tension between us.
“Wow. That’s so unique,” I said with a gentle smile, the memory of me thinking about him as I fell asleep last night flooded my mind.
Now the unnamed man finally had a name.
Arik.
Antonio was gone for the weekend. My stay and food were paid for. I had gone through a soul-crushing breakup just a month before, and I deserved to enjoy myself. Maybe get Alex out of my system? Maybe find the strength to move on?
Stay in my room and watch Netflix for the next two days, or…
I remembered the feeling in my chest when he was pressed against me in the darkness of the winery last night.
“The bed is amazing, you know,” I said with a flirtatious glint in my eye, hoping he would notice my invitation.
“Oh, really?” Arik’s smirk widened as he gently bit his lip as if were trying to hide it from me. “I have not tried the beds since they renovated a few years back.”
Yeah sure, buddy.
Something about his smile dripped with mischief. Like we were playing a game, and he was two steps ahead. And something about losing this game made my body tingle.
I patted the empty space next to me, beckoning for him to join. He smirked back in response, making my heart race as he kicked off his shoes.
He stood before me at the end of the bed, his fingers finding the top button of his blazer.
His eyes locked onto mine as he parted the center, revealing the black button-down that melted onto his chiseled frame like latex-laced cotton.
He slid one arm free, then the other—slow and deliberate as he watched me with intensity.
It felt like a warning, a last chance to change my mind.
If I stopped him, if I told him I couldn’t, would he listen?
Before my lips could protest, he lifted a knee onto the bed and crawled in beside me. Each movement precise. Measured. Like he was pacing himself. I could feel the tension building, a tangible blend of excitement and hesitation as my cheeks flushed and heat radiated in my core.
Arik turned onto his side, propping himself up on his arm to face me.
His stare was intense, as if he were studying me.
There was a raw, unfiltered admiration in his eyes that made me feel both exposed and exhilarated.
Like I wanted to hide under the covers but desperately hoped he would come find me.
I turned my head to ask him a question, but before I could speak, his lips were against mine.
The suddenness of his soft lips against mine took me by surprise, and a jolt of electricity shot through me.
One hand gripped my waist, pulling me closer as he slid his body into mine, while the other wrapped against the back of my head.
His touch was firm and possessive, with body heat radiating against me as he kissed me deeply, with a hunger that had been building since last night.