Chapter 8 #2
I moved past a line of cabanas, finding a spot far enough away from the pool I could enjoy time to myself. It had been a long time since I’d felt this relaxed. As I stood staring at the mountains, the nearly full moon providing a stunning shimmer, I held my arms.
For whatever reason, I had a slight chill, which was ridiculous with it being in the high seventies.
Ahead of me was a gorgeous fountain, one of several I’d noticed on the property. As I moved closer, I couldn’t help but think about the dance from the night before. One dance had left me with incredible dreams.
Oh, who was I kidding? I’d been grateful I’d brought my travel vibrator with me.
Music was coming from somewhere, the soft and melodic strains completely different than the night before. There was something freeing about being out of my comfort zone, being allowed to pretend as if I was someone else.
Coming to the conference had been very good for my psyche, but it was time to pack and get ready to head home. At least I’d been refreshed and eager to fully embrace the next chapter of my life.
One more minute of quiet pleasure. Sometimes the best kind.
Just before turning, I had the strange feeling of being watched.
Again.
Instantly, the words on the card crashed into the forefront of my mind.
It started as a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the early autumn air. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my muscles instinctively coiled tight, shifting my body from a relaxed state into a hyper-aware defensive mode.
I remained where I was for a few seconds, debating what I should do. My hypersensitivity suggested the person was on my right, which included the path I’d come from. There was also one to the left, a longer way around the landscaped area to get back to the hotel.
That’s what I chose, walking as if nothing was bothering me.
Simply moving forward and resisting the urge to turn around.
The moment I stopped short, I heard two footsteps that also stopped, but not quickly enough for me not to calculate how far behind me the person might be.
I pretended I’d merely stopped long enough to smell one of the flowering plants, which offered an opportunity to quickly glance behind me.
Seeing no one, I reminded myself that sound could carry a significant distance.
After managing to smile as if simply enjoying myself, I continued walking.
With my nerves sliding to the edge, I quickened my pace, telling myself I was just being paranoid. It’s just the wind. It’s just another commuter. But that nagging voice in the back of my mind—the one that always scanned the exits and counted the shadows—screamed that I was being followed.
Finally, I took a sharp turn that anyone behind me wouldn’t expect, fighting the urge to scream. Why wasn’t there anyone around? I’d gone farther than I thought. I slipped my hand into my bag, trying to find anything that I could use for self-defense.
I slipped through a cabana, which had only recently been vacated. As luck would have it, someone had left a wine opener behind, which held a corkscrew. I didn’t stop, snagging the implement easily and continuing walking directly toward the hotel. At least I was getting closer.
The initial wave of panic evaporated, replaced by a cold, clear surge of adrenaline. My mind snapped into tactical focus, the open corkscrew placed between my fingers.
Whoever it was picked up the pace. “Hey. Slow down. I just wanted to talk to you. Wanna come have a drink with me?”
Why did I recognize the man’s voice?
“No, thanks,” I said. Still walking. Still keeping the weapon in my hand.
“Ah, come on. Just one drink.” He was closer. And he was intoxicated.
Calm down. He’s not trying to hurt you.
My thoughts drifted to the troll I’d already acquired. I’d made no secret about where I’d be this weekend, sharing the graphics and details on all my social media pages. With my business right there front and center, whoever the bastard was could easily find out who I was in real life.
All he needed was some money to grease a few palms. Jesus. Maybe I should become a thriller author.
Another moment of trying to play it cool while the fear remained as a lump in my throat.
His footsteps became quicker as if he was jogging. That’s when I turned on my heel, lifting my arm and prepared to strike if necessary. “Stop.” I threw my other arm out. “You sent the card. Didn’t you? You’ve been following me.”
To his credit, he did stop, his face contorted. “What card?” We were now under a bank of trees and I could see his face. He was the guy who’d all but accosted me before at the charity event of all places. He was still drunk. What the hell was wrong with these guys?
I started to answer and had a strong feeling he hadn’t been the sender. I was creeped out more than before.
With his body swaying, he raked his hand through his hair and I noticed the huge ring on his finger, diamonds sparkling in the shimmering lights of the trees.
“You gonna hurt me, cause I like it rough.” His laughter indicated he was enjoying the hell out of himself. Why was it all rich guys acted as if they owned women? My growly side was quickly surfacing.
“No, I’m going to head to the front desk and tell them some jerk is bothering me. But I will hurt you if you come any closer.”
I’d be damned if the guy didn’t grin and do just that. “I’m not used to taking no for an answer.”
What was a girl to do? I stabbed him in the arm. “Maybe you should learn.”
“Ouch! You fucking bitch.”
The only time I wasted was long enough to drag a chair in front of him. I heard the horrific crash as he tumbled over it, swearing the entire time. There were jerks everywhere in every walk of life, alcohol allowing them to believe they were king of the hill. Couth couldn’t be bought.
The man was just a jerk hiding under expensive clothes.
At least I knew he didn’t have the balls to be a creeper. In fact, he likely had balls the size of marbles.
With the fear replaced by amusement, I headed into the hotel. Maybe he’d end up sleeping off his night of debauchery on the cold, hard concrete floor.
* * *
Christian
I’d learned over the years just how ignorant men were in dealing with women.
Whether in business or in acts of pleasure, they certainly relied heavily on their supposed manhood.
Granted, I could likely be placed in the same category given my penchant for certain darker proclivities.
However, I appreciated women for their intelligence, their skills, their use of cunning when necessary, and even their empathy.
Yes, I considered myself a predator, but a piece of shit like the one who’d not only accosted Penelope but had dared to terrify her was true garbage. He was also a horrific representation of the male species.
Which was why the man had to die.
Plain and simple.
There was no other alternative in my mind.
I’d allowed him to live after the first offense, thinking him nothing but a sloppy drunk, which he was. Killing him at the gala wouldn’t have boosted my reputation, but in the dark gallows of his hotel room there was no need to play coy.
I’d watched him stalking her, commenting with his buddies about his plans after getting her alone. He’d pretended more of his drunken stupor than anything. I knew because I was the master of observation.
He didn’t care who she was or that he was here representing a wealthy family himself.
The sheer sight of her talking to anyone else made my ribs tighten like a cage.
My reaction wasn’t rational, of course and I knew that.
It was an ache, a desperate, clawing need to pull her back into my space until she breathed my air alone.
In seeing the son of a bitch acting as if he owned her had catapulted my anger onto an entirely different level, one that hadn’t crossed my path in a long time.
She didn’t understand how easily the world could break her, or how violently I would tear it apart to keep her whole. I wanted my touch branded into her skin so deeply that anyone else who looked at her would know they were stepping onto hallowed, dangerous ground.
I’d waited, ensuring that my instincts hadn’t been wrong. I’d even considered stepping in, handling the situation myself. I’d been pleasantly surprised at Penelope’s ingenuity in grabbing the corkscrew and her tenacity in using it.
The chair had been utter perfection.
A girl after my own heart.
However, she had no clue how dangerous the man or the situation was. But I did. Men with too much money, power, and no one to rein them in were often the most dangerous.
To think she’d believed the bastard has sent the card to the table.
I almost laughed. What a fucking joke. However, that allowed me to realize our game, our toxic contest was in full swing.
We’d used the card trick before, more than once.
And every time it had added to the tantalizing dance.
Although my possessiveness of her added to the level of rage toward the asshole.
He’d taken steam out of our gesture. Well, fuck him.
I waited, watching him limp his way back to the hotel and to his room, biding my time enjoying a scotch in my room while the festivities died down and most people throughout the hotel either left or had gone to their rooms.
With the area quiet and no one to bother me, I stuffed gloves into my pocket along with the syringe I’d filled with the perfect concoction of poison.
Now, if I were on my home turf, I wouldn’t use such a pedestrian method, preferring to inflict even more pain than the serum would allow. However, I also wasn’t in the mood to take any risks.
Even for the beautiful Penelope.
As I got off on his floor, I took my time heading down the corridor.
Just before I reached his door, I slipped on the gloves.
With owning the hotel, I could easily get into any room.
How funny I’d decided I would leave my prize alone to enjoy her last night, refusing to invade her privacy while having no issue with entering the douchebag’s suite.