CHAPTER 184

CHAPTER 184
Amelia’s first awareness was the pounding in her head. Not sharp like a hangover, but heavy, like someone had draped a thick blanket over her mind and refused to lift it. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to pale morning light streaming through unfamiliar curtains. For a moment she lay completely still, trying to make sense of the room around her. The sheets were too crisp. The faint scent of cedar didn’t belong to her. The hum of the central AC was different.

Confusion tightened in her chest.

This wasn’t her room. They had been assigned rooms in the hotel when they arrived in this town for the shoot but she was almost sure that her room’s door faced the opposite direction. Whose room was this and how did she end up here?

She pushed herself upright, and the bed shifted under her weight. Her heartbeat stumbled when she finally turned her head and saw Leon standing near the window, a towel knotted low around his waist, drying his hair with another one. He looked perfectly calm, as though nothing in the world could surprise him.

Her breath caught on a panic she wasn’t ready for.

“Leon,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Why am I here? Wait… Is this your room? How…how did I end up in your room?” The questions kept coming through her mind and out of her mouth.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, eyes unreadable as always, but today there was something else there - an almost amused curve in the corner of his mouth. He paused, towel draped around his neck, hands resting casually on his hips.

“What do you mean how did you end up here?” he asked with a quiet, almost lazy tone. “You came to me. Don’t you remember?”

Her stomach dropped. “I came… to you? When? I don’t…”

“Yes,” he said, shrugging lightly. “I was asleep when you knocked. I opened for you because I though you needed something from me. But when you came in….” he paused dramatically. ”One thing led to another…. And here we are.”

Her mouth went dry. A cold tremor rippled from her spine down to her fingers. She shook her head, trying to grasp even a thread of memory that matched his words. All she could find were flashes - laughing at the dinner table, staff congratulating them on the show, producers patting their backs, plates of food, glasses clinking. She remembered people handing her drinks as a celebration gesture, but the drinks were juice, fruit cocktails, soft sodas. Everyone knew she didn’t drink alcohol, not even a little. She remembered sweet mango iced tea. Sparkling apple soda. Rose-coloured mock tails. They all tasted harmless. She remembered Amy laughing beside her. Leon telling a joke. The chef thanking them one last time. The sound of applause for their near-midseason success. But nothing after that. What had really happened and what did Leon mean by wat he had just said? Her throbbing headache wouldn’t even let her think straight. Everything seemed like she was dreaming – and yet she was wide awake. Leon seemed to remember, why wouldn’t her mind remember?

“How… how did I get here?” she whispered again, her throat tightening. “I don’t remember anything. Leon, I don’t remember coming to your room.”

He tilted his head, considering her with an expression that hovered between curiosity and smugness. He didn’t look concerned. He didn’t look confused. He looked perfectly at ease, as though this was the most normal conversation in the world.

“I don’t know why you don’t remember,” he said simply. “You were talking fine. Walking fine. You looked okay to me. I had no reason to believe you were drunk or something because you didn’t seem drunk to me.”

Her vision blurred slightly as panic swelled in her chest. “Leon… what do you mean by ‘one thing led to another’? What exactly do you mean…?” Her head was spinning with random thoughts that she all wished were not true.

His lips twitched - not into a smile exactly, but something darker, something that sat uncomfortably between flirtation and provocation. The towel around his neck slipped a little as he leaned a shoulder against the wall.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, but it is as you imagine.” he said with a sly grin plastered on his face.

Her breath hitched. A cold wave rolled through her body. She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself, realizing with sudden fear that she didn’t know what she wore underneath or what state she had been in when she arrived. Her skin prickled with anxiety.

“Why don’t I remember any of it?” she asked, her voice rising with fear she couldn’t hide anymore. “Leon, I don’t remember coming here, I don’t remember talking to you, I don’t remember asking for anything…”

“Well,” he said, stepping closer, his expression still unreadable. “I can’t explain your memory. I thought you were fine. You were the one who asked for it. I hope you don’t go ahead and accuse me of things simply because you don’t remember. Everything we did was consensual, you even asked me to take a video but I couldn’t risk a video of us out there considering we are both celebrities. You were wild last night…” he paused and gave a short laugh. “I never thought of you like that.”

The words struck her like a slap. What the hell was he talking about?

Her stomach lurched violently.

“I…what?” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“You asked for it,” he repeated simply, as though stating the weather.

The room seemed to tilt. Her breath came in tight gasps. She pressed a hand over her mouth, swallowing against the rise of nausea clawing up her throat.

Then she couldn’t hold it anymore.

Amelia pushed herself out of the bed, clutching the blanket around her body, knees trembling. She stumbled into the bathroom, shoved the door closed with her shoulder, and fell to her knees over the toilet bowl as her stomach convulsed. The retching tore through her, harsh and miserable. Tears stung her eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not the situation she was in or the way Leon was speaking to her. He was her friend, he knew she was dating Matteo, why did he seem to enjoy everything he was telling her when it made her sick to her stomach?

She did not understand any of it. Everything.

Why couldn’t she remember? What had really happened? Why did Leon sound so casual, so calm, so certain?

She rinsed her mouth, wiped her face with trembling hands, and wrapped the blanket firmly around herself before stepping back into the room. Leon hadn’t moved far. He watched her with a quietness that was almost cruel in how composed it seemed.

“Please leave,” she said softly, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I need to get dressed.”

Leon’s eyes dropped subtly to the edge of the blanket where her bare leg peeked out. The smirk he gave her was sharper now, almost triumphant.

“Why?” he asked lightly. “I already saw everything last night.”

Her cheeks burned with humiliation and fury she wasn’t prepared for. She tightened her grip on the blanket, feeling heat flood her skin - not warmth, but the kind of embarrassment that came from losing control over her own narrative.

She grabbed her clothes from the chair, clutching them tightly to her chest as she retreated into the bathroom again. She took a few extra seconds just to breathe, to gather pieces of herself, to will her hands to stop shaking. After dressing quickly, she adjusted the hem of her shirt, inhaled deeply, and opened the door to leave.

But she froze.

Right on the other side of the door stood Matteo Cruz. His hand was raised mid-knock, his eyes widening the moment he saw her. His expression shifted in a split second - from anticipation to shock to something wounded and disbelieving. But before he could speak, Leon appeared behind her, still damp from the shower, towel low on his hips, leaning casually in the doorway like this was a scene he had orchestrated down to the breath.

He smirked at Matteo.

Not a friendly smirk.

A victorious one.

Amelia, caught between them, felt her entire world tilt dangerously, the ground falling out beneath her feet. She wished for it to just open up and swallow her whole.