Chapter 49: CHLOE

The sharp and insistent ring of the phone dragged me up from a sleep so deep it felt more like drowning than rest. I blinked against the dim light sneaking in the space between the curtains, disoriented, and fumbled for the receiver on the nightstand, knocking over a glass of water in the process.

“Fuck!” I muttered, snatching the receiver and bringing it to my ear.

My voice came out rough, almost grainy as I croaked. “Hello.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Davis…”

‘Good afternoon?’ My eyes shot to the blinking red numbers on the digital clock. It was past noon all right. How long had I been out for?

“...This is the front desk,” the voice droned on. “We’re calling to let you know that you have been upgraded to the penthouse suite. If you’d come by the lobby, we’ll make the necessary arrangements and get you situated in no time.”

Hold on a sec…

I sat up slowly, the sheets sliding down to pool at my waist. “Upgraded? I didn’t request an upgrade. You have the wrong person.”

“Oh,” she said. Then a brief silence, filled by the clanging of a keyboard. “There’s no mistake, Ms. Davis,” her cheery voice came back, firm and sure. Simply stop by the front desk whenever you’re ready.”

“But I—”

The line clicked off. I stared at the phone for a second before setting it back in its cradle.

Penthouse suite? Me?!

There had to be a mix-up somewhere. I blinked again, feeling the telltale signs of a brewing headache. My mouth felt heavy and cottony. How much did I drink last night?

The last thing I remembered was feeling rather excited at closing the six-figure deal with Velour and deciding a solo night in town was the best way to celebrate. A porter at the entrance had suggested the club closest to the hotel, so I’d gone there. The rest of the night was blurry from the point I’d slugged down a couple of shots at the bar.

How I’d gone from there to here was far-fetched from my throbbing head right now. I collapsed back against the pillows, arms flung over my face, the movement sending another dull throb through my skull. A second later it sharpened into a full-on pounding headache.

I groaned and forced myself upright again. Two white pills sat melting in the water spill on the nightstand, the glass lying on its side. Deciding against stressing my brain wondering how they got there, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, swallowing an expletive when my feet knocked against a trash can beside it.

Fucking hell.

The room tilted once, then settled. I stumbled to the bathroom without further incident. Locating the packet of Tylenol amongst a pack of condoms on a shelf in the bathroom, I popped two tablets, swallowing them dry.

My eyes were slightly bloodshot in the mirror, and my hair was topsy-turvy, standing on its ends like a bed nest. I looked a mess. Pulling up the short robe I’d slept in, I lowered myself onto the toilet bowl, the steady stream of urine calming me somewhat.

Weird.

The sound of Tiny’s paws reached me just a minute before her face peeked through the door. I must have been on her shit list yet again because she was giving me the stink eye. Totally justified anyway… I mean, what kind of person was I to starve something this cute of breakfast twice in a row now?

A petnapper, is what.

“I promise I’ll do better,” I said to her, getting up off the toilet.

Tiny didn’t even stop to acknowledge my words, choosing to relieve herself into the toilet.

Oh well…

Facing the mirror, I turned on the tap and shuddered when the water ran out cold. It was just what I needed to kick-start my brain though. I splashed the water over my face repeatedly, until the worst of the fog lifted and I felt slightly human afterwards.

Only slightly.

Swallowing a mouthful of mouthwash, I swished once, twice, then spat it out and repeated the process. Digging through my stuff, I found a clean pair of jeans and a soft gray sweater and pulled them on. Pulling my hair in a loose knot, I looked as rough as I felt.

“I’ll be back with food,” I told Tiny, forcing the door close despite her cries of protest.

I needed to clarify whatever went wrong at the front desk. The hallway was quiet, but when the elevator arrived, two elderly women in tailored blazers were inside; they took one look at my face and crumpled clothes and eyed each other like they’d caught me doing the walk of shame. I got in and stood off to one side, my ears perking up when I heard one of them mutter “hussy.”

“Excuse you?” I confronted them before my brain could process what they’d said. And yep, I’m totally blaming that on being hungover, because I would have pretended not to have heard them. “I’m booked here, okay.”

They eyed me this time, unconvinced — and I could almost hear the wheels turning in their head.

If she was booked here, it could only mean she was a hooker…

Huffing, I crossed my arms across my chest, deciding to proceed with my earlier prerogative — ignore them.

The elevator soon opened up on the ground floor, and I stepped out hurriedly, more than eager to get this over with. The clerk at the front desk smiled at me quizzically when I approached her.

“I’m Chloe Davis,” I said, placing a hand over the desk. “I was just called about a room upgrade.”

Her eyes lowered to the screen in front of her, and the clanking of keys followed. “Ah, yes, Ms. Davis. You were indeed upgraded to the penthouse suite last night. When would you like to make the switch? Please note that if you delay any further, you may have to pay for a night in your current—”

I waved a hand, cutting off her tirade. “There must be a mistake somewhere. I did not request an upgrade.”

To that, she smiled. “Oh. The gentleman who brought you back yesterday did.”

I blinked, confusion sweeping over me for a minute, before the events of last night hit me like a tsunami.

Derek.

He was at the bar. He’d beaten the man I’d followed out into the alley… Oh my gawd. Oh. My. Gawd.

I sucked him last night.

A wave of consternation with a dash of mortification flushed over me, immediately followed by a tinge of regret…

Why couldn’t I remember sucking him?!

“Miss. Miss…”

I snapped back to reality, blinking at the lady staring at me like I was a crackhead.

“Do I send the porter up with you to help you make the transfer?”

The transfer. To the penthouse.

The freaking penthouse!

Was that some sort of payment for blowing him?

“I don’t want to move,” I declared, noting the brief flare of shock in her eyes. “What happens if I don’t want to mo—”

“Chloe!”

The fuck?

I turned back sharply to see — would you believe it? — Stancy walking towards me with rather long strides. I frowned involuntarily.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked in a nasty nasal tone.

“We need to talk,” she said, stopping a few feet away.

Good thinking, bitch. Don’t come any closer.

“How did you find me?” I asked, enunciating the words slowly and forcing myself to take deep breaths.

“That’s not important,” she said, her voice low, urgent even. “Jason’s gotten some information on your whereabouts. If you don’t want to be found, then I suggest you book the next flight out of here. Now.”

How kind.

“And what is it to you, huh?” I queried, genuinely shocked at the sheer audacity of her. Just a few days ago, she’d been all over my fiance and suddenly, she was here to advise me to leave before said fiance found me.

How very original.

My eyes narrowed at her, and just as I opened my mouth to speak, I caught sight of the tall, rather disheveled figure dressed in a familiar shirt stepping into the lobby.

Was the universe messing with me today?