Chapter 13 ROOM 307
The GEI Awards (Greenville Entertainment Industry Awards) ceremony was everything Lilian had dreamed of and more.
It was held only once in five years, an event no celebrity in Greenville would want to miss, well except Dandelion whose career has recently been jeopardized.
The hall was filled with crystal chandeliers. Designer gowns. Cameras flashing like lightning.
The Elite of Greenville's entertainment industry gathered under one roof, drinking champagne that cost more than her monthly rent and air-kissing like their lives depended on it.
When the host called her name, "Best Chief Editor: Lilian Knowles", she nearly tripped on her way to the stage.
The trophy was heavier than she expected, it was gold and solid in her trembling hands.
She held the microphone, staring out at hundreds of faces, and forced herself to smile even though her chest ached.
"Thank you GEI," she'd said, her voice steady despite the emotion threatening to crack it. "This award means everything to me. To everyone who believed in my vision, who trusted me to tell their stories, thank you and I'll keep being the best at what I do." She said, feeling grateful yet sad.
Heading back to her seat her fingers had drifted unconsciously to the bracelet on her wrist. The delicate silver beads with a tiny dandelion charm. Custom-made and one of a kind.
Well, one of two.
If only Dandy were here, she thought, blinking back tears. She'd be screaming louder than anyone.
But Dandelion wasn't there.
And Lilian had accepted the award alone.
.......
The after-party was a blur of congratulations, business cards, and too much alcohol.
"Lilian! That speech was incredible!" A producer she barely knew clapped her on the back.
"You're going places, Miss Knowles Call me next week, I have a project that needs your attention." A director pressed a card into her hand.
"One more photo, Lilian! Over here!"
She smiled. Posed, Laughed at jokes that weren't funny and drank glass after glass of champagne until the edges of the world went soft and blurry.
By midnight, she could barely stand without swaying.
"Lilian, you okay?" Clyde, her colleague from the editorial team, steadied her as she swayed. "Do you need a ride home?"
"Mm, I'm fine." She waved him off, nearly dropping her clutch. "I booked a lounge. Right here at the Hotel. S'perfect."
She knew this would happen and had prepared ahead to avoid any embarrassment.
"You sure?" He frowned, clearly skeptical. "I can drive you—"
"Noooo." She shook her head, bad idea, the room was already spinning. She would soon collapse any minute from now.
"You live on the other side of the city. I'm fine. Lounge is... somewhere." She squinted at the hallway signs.
"3-0-something."
Clyde hesitated, then sighed. "Alright. But text me when you get there, okay?"
"Promise." She gave him a wobbly thumbs-up.
He watched her stumble toward the elevators, clearly torn, then finally left when she waved him away insistently.
........
The hotel hallway was endless.
Red Carpeted and silent and why were there so many doors?
Lilian fumbled with her phone, squinting at the confirmation email.
Lounge 306. Third floor.
"Three-oh-six," she muttered, her words slurring together. "Okay, So easy."
She reached the door marked 306—no, wait, 307...no, maybe it was 306?
The numbers kept rearranging themselves.
She tried her keycard.
It didn't work.
"Stupid thing." She tried again. Still nothing. "C'mon, open—"
But the door wasn't locked.
It swung open when she leaned against it, and she nearly fell face-first into the room.
"Ha! Knew it." She kicked off her heels, leaving them by the door, and stumbled inside.
The room was dark and quiet. The bed looked amazing, it was huge and cloud-soft, exactly what she needed.
She collapsed onto it with a grateful sigh, sinking into the mattress.
Except.
The mattress was warm.
And firm.
And... moving?
Lilian blinked, her alcohol-fogged brain struggling to process the fact that there was a person beneath her.
A very solid, very warm, very male person.
"Wha..." The man's voice was rough, confused and trying to push her off. "Who—"
But Lilian was already grinning, her senses drowned in champagne and exhaustion.
It's a dream, she thought hazily. One of those dreams.
She'd had them before, fantasies that felt real enough to make her blush the next morning.
Tall, muscled strangers who touched her the way no one ever had in real life. This was just another one of those.
And since it was a dream, then she could do whatever she wanted.
"Mmm." She pressed closer, her hands sliding over the stranger's chest. Hard muscle. Smooth skin and warm. "You're perfect."
The man stiffened beneath her, his hands coming up to her shoulders.
"Wait—you need to—"
"Shhh." She kissed his jaw, giggling when he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Don't talk. It ruins the dream."
"This isn't—" He tried to push her away, but his grip was weak too. "You're drunk—"
"So are you." She could smell it on him,
Expensive and strong whiskey.
Her nose trailed his jaw, biting him softly right there.
He froze. What kind of succubus had come to seduce him, right when he was drunk and weak.
"S'okay. We're both drunk. In my dream. Which means..." She trailed her fingers down his chest, then lower and bolder. "We can do whatever we want."
His breath hitched. "Fuck....stop"
But he didn't sound convincing.
And when she kissed him again, deep and slow this time, all the heat and hunger, the champagne soaked desire, made him stop trying to push her away.
His hands tightened on her waist instead.
Pulling her closer.
He was falling deeper, and she was leading him on.
She was everywhere, her hands, her mouth, her soft curves pressed against him, and his control shattered like glass.
"Wait." He tried one more time, his voice hoarse. "We shouldn't—"
"Why not?" She bit his lower lip playfully. "Relax, It's just a dream."
He wanted to protest again, but her lips crashed on his again.
she was already tugging at his shirt, her fingers clumsy but determined, and when she whispered, "Please," against his mouth, he lost it.
And flipped her over, she gasped, feeling delighted.
He kissed her properly this time. Deep and claiming and laced with a hunger he hadn't felt in years.
She tasted like champagne and something sweeter. She felt like fire in his arms.
And when she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, he stopped hesitating.
........
Hours Later.
Lilian woke to sunlight blinding through her eyelids and a headache that could kill a small animal.
She groaned, pressing her face into the pillow.
What happened last night?
Slowly, her memories trickled back. The awards. The champagne. Clyde offering a ride. The hotel hallway.
And then....
Her eyes flew open.
She wasn't alone.
There was a man in the bed.
A naked man.
She sat up so fast the room spun, clutching the bedsheets to her chest tightly.
Oh no. Oh no no no no.
He was still asleep, his back to her, dark hair spread against the pillow, Broad shoulders and tattoos she definitely would've remembered if she'd been sober.
Panic clawed up her throat.
God What did I do?
She scrambled out of bed as quietly as possible, grabbing her dress from the floor, why was it inside out?—and yanking it on with shaking hands.
The man stirred.
Lilian froze, her heart hammering.
Please don't wake up. Please don't wake up. Please—
He shifted but didn't open his eyes.
She bolted.
Grabbed her clutch and heels, and practically ran out of the room, pulling the door shut as quietly as possible.
When she was safely in the elevator, her breathing became hard and feeling like she might throw up, she look at the room number.
307.
Damn!
Her room was supposed to be 306.
I went to the wrong room, she realized, horror washing
over her. I climbed into bed with a complete stranger and....
She covered her face with her hands, shame burning through her.
She'd had a one-night stand.
With a complete stranger.
While blackout drunk.