Chapter Fifty-Three

The hotel room was grandiose, an exaggeration I was happy to accept. We had a few hours at the beginning of the night to get organized, I spent a few extra minutes trying to figure out how the shower in the suite worked and realized I was late for the scheduled dinner. I put on a pair of regular jeans and a dress shirt, leaving a few buttons undone. I touched my cleavage and slowly slid down the lace of my black lingerie. Would he be there? Was it right to feel warm between my legs as I imagined his fingers instead of mine? His eyes devouring me alive as he noticed the cleavage I had left exposed just for him. Right, yes, not normal. God, I loved the abnormal.

I took a deep breath and left the suite with some trepidation.

The place was a spectacular sight, crystals and gold set the mood and went well with the white marble. As I walked, I felt worthy of such a life, even if I was curious and detached from reality. Maybe it would all slip out of my hands someday, but until then, it would be more important for me to be able to touch it.

There was a full feast on the table, everyone was there except him. Mads' team and my co-workers served themselves between conversations and laughter, hardly noticing my late presence. The evening passed without much emotion, the people there didn't make a point of including me, only Emily, who sometimes asked me a few questions, but to no avail, either the whole table fell into an awkward silence or I didn't respond with such enthusiasm. There came a time when she just gave up, and so did I.

"Should we forget that tomorrow starts at 8 a.m. and open the bar tonight?" Noah suggests aloud, and many laugh and nod at his suggestion. I follow his gaze and see that further away there is an entrance to a darker part of this floor. It would be interesting, but the evening didn't seem to hold much promise without his presence.

I get up and in a few minutes, I'm lying on the bed in my room, still dressed. I take a deep breath and stare at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, and suddenly nothing resembles the feeling of being in a low-budget hotel with Mads.

The memory of that night was still fresh in my mind, my lips dry as I remembered how he fucked me with such passion and ferocity. I could still feel his rough hand pinning my face to the bed, his body over mine as he pressed his hips against my ass. I pressed my lips together, trying to contain the contraction between my legs, trying to contain the desire to give in to the forbidden that called me to the lower floors of this building.

I moan softly, my fingers threatening to descend into my already wet vulva. I stop, denying myself the simple pleasure of getting there alone, of spending my first night in Seattle alone. I got up with the clear intention of finding the dress I brought with me. I wasn't going to let my night go by unnoticed while the people who so belittled me were having fun downstairs. While he might be having fun somewhere in this hotel.

I had no intention of holding back. The night was my greatest ally and I was its child, eager to learn and discover in it all that needed to be revealed. My body vibrated because I was in pure lust, I covered parts of my skin with a black dress that was not at all restrained, clung to my curves and descended into a slit that showed my hips and thighs. The hotel bar was full, people were walking everywhere, glances ate me up as I passed, people were flirting, kissing, exchanging saliva in a frenetic dance, and the atmosphere smelled of alcohol and desire, all of which was fuel for the little spark that threatened to burn inside me.

The darkened place camouflaged some of the faces that appeared in my field of vision, bodies bumped into mine and I felt the urgency of being touched, the surprised exhalation when some gaze lingered too long on me. It was a feast, and everyone there, whether they stayed or not, seemed to be giving in to hunger. I seemed to be lost at the same time as my place of belonging. I inhaled the cigarette smoke that mixed with the sweet aroma of the drinks, and my steps took me in the wisest direction.

The bar was illuminated by lights that highlighted the sparkling bottles, and the promise of one of those liquids going down my throat made me euphoric. I look around and somewhere in the distance, I see Ryan in a hidden corner with Daphne, their bodies close together, both shoulders against the wall, holding their glasses. The scent of flirtation fills my nostrils, she laughs at something they talked about and he lowers his gaze to the outline of her lips, the smile serving as permission for his intentions. It makes me ecstatic, curious, and frustrated.

He hadn't shown up for dinner, I hadn't seen him since that incident in the elevator. My body missed him, and watching other people flirt shamelessly without fear or insecurity ate me up inside, burning me with desire and anger. Yes, I felt a lot of anger, that was the feeling that ruled me today. I decided that alcohol would turn this anger into appetite, I would rather be controlled by whim and lust than anger. Or I could be wrong, maybe anger was a good basis for both.

I walk in and feel the fabric of my dress rubbing against my thighs. I order a glass of martini and lean against the bar, intending to watch the people.

"Your martini, miss." The bartender hands me a glass with a wide rim, clear liquid, and a thin stick with a delicious green olive protruding from it. I took a small, inviting sip, feeling the nuances of the vodka, and thanked the handsome man, who smiled back at me. "But I have to admit, you seem to like wine better." I smile.

"I'll let you believe that." The man laughs and goes back to cleaning the counter and refilling the empty glasses.

I turn back to find the place slowly filling up, the music soothing in volume as it creates a seductive atmosphere. I take a second sip, biting my lip as I feel a drop escape. The people varied in appearance and age, but they all carried themselves with the elegance and confidence of someone who could afford to be there. They were attractive in a way, but none of them retained the power and presence they exuded when they entered a room.

I swallow my drink harder than usual and my throat burns. I see the tall man enter the room, his face impassive, his intense half-closed eyes looking around with his head held high, his white shirt showing off his muscles and figure, his strong, ringed hands fixing the cufflinks on his sleeves. His gray beard matched his hair, slicked back in a very dark brown that faded and made him irresistible. Pieces of his tattoos appeared at the beginning of his chest and on his covered wrists. I find myself hypnotized and I'm sure I'm gripping the cup in my hands with unusual strength.

Mads takes a few steps away, his face closed and cold when people look at him. I follow him among the others, my mouth begging for more of the sweetness of alcohol. I follow his gaze with a certain obsession, my curiosity piqued. What was his purpose? The man doesn't seem to notice me, his eyes roving over the people until he finally stops, the touch of a woman's hand resting on his arm. He turns slightly, I sip my drink, he smiles and she tilts her face to the side with intense green eyes. I grab the stem of the glass and try to read their lips with a difficulty that gives me a headache.

Bastard. He gestures but doesn't touch her, unlike her. I watch, tongue scraping over my teeth, as her fingers slide down his forearm with ease and intent that screams from feet away. I run my eyes down his still, relaxed, comfortable body. Mads is enjoying the conversation with a relaxed face, but the smile is gone. My fingers tighten on the glass as I see him, with all his normalcy and seriousness, turn his face directly toward me. He doesn't miss, his eyes find me with the same precision as a predator's when it identifies its prey.

From there, I feel his challenge, his intent gaze. A shiver runs down my spine, but I decide I won't be his prey tonight.