Chapter 2 #3
This was too awkward. Too awful. I couldn't just leave like this, as if last night was only a—
A what? A one-night stand? A mistake?
My gaze fell on the notepad and pen on the nightstand, provided by the hotel.
Fine. Since Samantha said she'd paid, I'd treat this as a transaction. Fair exchange; nobody owes anybody.
I opened my wallet, pulled out all the cash inside—two hundred-dollar bills. This was all the cash I had, originally meant for groceries this week.
I pressed the money on the nightstand, picked up the pen, and quickly scribbled a few words on the notepad.
"Impressive skills. Buy yourself a decent breakfast. —H"
I stared at that note for a few seconds after writing. It sounded like I was being charitable, like I was the one in control of everything.
Good. That was best.
I pressed the note under the money, making sure he'd see it when he woke up, then turned and left the room.
The hallway was empty. I walked barefoot on the thick carpet, wearing only his T-shirt, looking exactly like a woman who'd just crawled out of a strange man's bed.
When the elevator doors opened, a hotel staff member in uniform was inside. The moment he saw me, a knowing look flashed through his eyes.
I walked into the elevator with my head high, pretending not to see his expression.
The descent felt like a century. I stared at the numbers jumping on the elevator door, but my mind uncontrollably replayed fragments from last night—his kisses, his touch.
"Fuck." I cursed quietly, covering my face with my hands.
Finally, the elevator stopped on the first floor. I rushed out, crossed the lobby, and escaped the hotel under everyone's watchful eyes.
Not many pedestrians on Manhattan's early morning streets. Cold wind blew against my bare thighs, making me shiver. I hailed a cab, gave my apartment address, then collapsed in the back seat.
The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, said nothing.
I closed my eyes, trying not to think about anything. But those images kept replaying in my head over and over.
Half an hour later, the cab stopped outside my apartment building. I paid, stepped barefoot onto the freezing sidewalk, and stumbled my way inside.
Mrs. Smith, my neighbor, happened to be checking her mailbox. When she saw me, her eyes went wide as saucers.
"Good morning, Mrs. Smith." I forced out a stiff smile and hurried toward the stairs.
"Good morning, Miss Woods." Her voice dripped with gossip-hungry curiosity.
I rushed up the stairs, fumbled with shaking hands to unlock my door, burst into my apartment, then slammed the door shut behind me and slid down against it to the floor.
Safe. I was finally safe.
I sat like that for a long time, until my phone started vibrating frantically.
I pulled out my phone. The screen showed countless unread messages. Most from Samantha, a few from—Matthew.
I ignored Matthew's messages completely, opened Samantha's.
"You up yet, birthday girl? How was last night?"
"Oh my God, you actually didn't come back all night! How incredible was that escort?"
"Call me back! I need all the details!"
I rubbed my throbbing temples and pressed dial.
"Thank God, you're alive!" The moment the call connected, Samantha's excited shriek came through. "Tell me quick, what the hell happened last night? You actually didn't come home!"
"I..." I opened my mouth, discovered my voice was terribly hoarse, "just that. He was... very professional. We slept together, then I left this morning."
"Just 'very professional'? Hailey, you don't sound like you had a wonderful night." Samantha asked suspiciously on the other end. "Did he hurt you? Or was he too ugly? That can't be right. The agent promised me he was their top guy."
Top guy?
That man with ice-blue eyes, a presence so powerful it made your legs weak—he'd be an agency's top guy?
"No, it wasn't looks." I hedged vaguely, "Sam, I'm really tired. I'm hung over bad. Want to shower and sleep."
"Okay, okay, poor baby." Samantha immediately softened. "Anyway, congrats on finally taking this step, leaving that bastard Matthew completely behind! Rest well, we'll talk later."
After hanging up, I dragged my exhausted body toward the bathroom.
I turned on the bright overhead light. When I looked up at myself in the mirror, I froze completely.
The woman in the mirror had swollen lips, red puffy eyes, and messy hair. She wore an oversized black men's shirt, collar hanging loose to one side, exposing large expanses of skin.
And those kiss marks and bite marks were more shocking than I'd imagined.
On my neck, my collarbone, my chest—everywhere. Some had turned deep purple, some still showed red-blue.
I looked like I'd been thoroughly destroyed.
I reached out to touch a mark on my neck. The moment my fingertip touched that skin, my body involuntarily trembled.
Some hidden pleasure spread from that point, reminding me how insane last night had been.
I yanked the faucet open hard, trying to douse the panic in my chest with cold water.
It was all over, Hailey. Last night's insanity—treat it as a beautiful dream.