Chapter 172 Do you want to?
June
"Uhm—you said you wanted to take me somewhere." Hermes says as we step out of the taxi.
"Yeah." I nod, barely looking at him, my eyes glued to the little note Ted gave me like it’s a holy script.
"Well, I hope it's not a hotel, because we're basically in front of a hotel building." He folds his arms, staring up at it like it personally offended him.
I lift my gaze.
"This is the place I’m taking you to. You had some unfinished business in here so…"
My voice fades. I can’t even make up a proper lie at this point. He’ll have to just accept the chaos. It’s not like this is easy for me either—bringing him here, to this hotel, where everything started, where everything blew up my life. God, please let him remember something.
"Do we?" Hermes asks, turning fully toward me as he takes off his dark shades.
"Yes," I say too quickly, and shove the shades back onto his face. "Don’t take it off, Hermes," I whisper, adjusting the hood of my sweatshirt like I'm prepping for a heist.
"Okay, I get that we have some unfinished business in this hotel," he says, tugging at his own hoodie, "but why are we dressed like tourists?"
I bite my lip.
"To save you from some awkward conversations. You don’t remember everything completely after what happened to you, so we need to camouflage."
Hermes tilts his head, confused but compliant.
"Okay. Well… let’s go."
I exhale—long, shaky—and nod, following him.
The moment we step into the lobby, my chest tightened. My fingers curled around my fists, the corner of my eyes, watching Hermes as he walks in like he owned the place, shoulders back, confidence radiating… except the second he spotted the receptionist, that confidence falters.
My stomach dropped. The woman behind the desk froze for a second, and then her eyes lit up.
"Welcome back, Mr. Grande from Suite 1908," she said brightly. "We hear what happened—"
"Hey— we're here of the inspection," I cut in nearly choked on my own air. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
Hermes’s head snapped to me, eyes narrowing. "The—what?" He sounded… startled. And just like that, my carefully rehearsed calm crumbled.
I pressed my lips together, forcing a smile that probably looked like I was either insane or about to faint. Keep it together, June. You’ve got three days. Three days to fix this.
"Uhm—company inspection," I blurted, waving my hand vaguely. "We came to get some documents from his suite."
Hermes blinked at me, suspicion in his eyes, but… he nodded. "Right. Of course." His voice was calm, but the slight twitch at his jaw told me he was definitely not buying this completely.
I exhaled silently. Okay, one hurdle down
The receptionist smiles as she handed the key card, "Well, I hope you have a great stay."
He didn’t even look at me, just rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, "Right… Let's go..."
We made it to the elevator, and I nearly ran in after him. My palms were sweating. Just get him to the suite.
As the elevator doors closed, I whispered under my breath, "You can do this. You can do this."
Hermes glanced at me, one eyebrow arched. "You’re awfully tense for someone supposedly escorting me for an ‘inspection.’"
I forced a laugh, fumbling with the hoodie I had tied around my waist. "Just… excited to see how they’ve renovated the suites."
Excited? Sure. That was the word I’d go with. Excited, nervous, panicked, aroused—oh God, don’t think about that now.
The elevator dinged, and when the doors opened, the hallway stretched before us, familiar and horribly intimate. I could feel every heartbeat in my chest as we approached Suite 1908. My hands were clammy, my stomach twisting in anticipation.
Hermes held the key card, looking around the hall, eyes scanning every detail. "So… this is the place with the ‘unfinished business,’" he said, tone neutral, but I caught the flicker of curiosity in his gaze.
"Yes," I said quickly, almost too eagerly. "The… unfinished business." I pressed the words into the floor of my brain, hoping they would sound casual enough. "Don’t ask questions, just… see for yourself."
He gave me one long look and clicked his tongue. "Fine. Let’s go."
We stepped inside—and the air hit me first. The subtle scent of the room, the faint lingering perfume, the faint imprint of the night that had changed everything—my entire body stiffened. My knees threatened to buckle. Okay, June. Act natural.
Hermes wandered in like he had every right to be here, but I could see it in his posture—slightly off, not entirely at ease. He touched the edge of the desk, ran a hand along the wall, and then… froze when he reached the bed.
My heart threatened to leap out of my chest. The bed. Where it all began.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, and I could feel the heat radiating off him.
"I—I’m allergic to… the... air purifier—" I blurted out, voice trembling.
He blinked at me, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press it. I exhaled a shaky breath, gripping the strap of my bag like it was a lifeline.
I had to keep it together. This was the first real step in my three-day mission. I had to make him relax without realizing that I was trying to pull his memories from him.
I cleared my throat. "Uh… I think you should sit down. You shouldn't be standing for long." My voice came out shaky, and I hoped he didn’t hear the tremor.
He raised an eyebrow, walking slowly toward the bed. His hand rested lightly on the mattress edge. I could practically feel the memory lurking in the air, teasing him, daring him to remember.
"Mr. Hermes," I said, trying to sound casual as I handed him a glass of water, just the way I offered him a glass of Vodka—but now, plain water. "Hydration is important."
He took it, their fingers brushing ever so slightly, and I almost gasped. Focus, June. Mission first.
He set the glass down and ran a hand along the headboard. His eyes widened imperceptibly, a flash of something unplaceable crossing his gaze.
"I… I’ve been here before," he muttered, voice low, almost to himself.
My heart leapt, then fell. Yes! But… it’s just the room, not me.
As if drawn by gravity, he sat down exactly where he had first held me. I froze, staring at him, my stomach knotting. He glanced at me, expression unreadable, but there was tension in his shoulders, a faint flush on his jaw.
"Are you okay?" he asked, softer this time. His eyes caught mine, and for a second I almost panicked—he looked like he could see right through me.
"I’m… fine," I said, fumbling for composure. I stepped closer, trying to guide the conversation, to coax the memory without giving anything away.
He tilted his head, scanning the room. "This room is familiar, but everything’s… different," he murmured, almost to himself. Then he reached for something on the table behind me, and our bodies collided.
I froze, heart pounding, heat rushing to my face. He stepped back quickly, blinking, clearly flustered.
"I—uh—I’m sorry," he said, voice low, uncharacteristically awkward.
"It’s… fine," I mumbled, fumbling with the hem of my hoodie.
I guided him toward the desk, careful, measured. "Check in there. The… document should be there"
Hermes nodded—too flustered and too embarrassed from earlier to question anything—and move.
The room felt suddenly tight. My lungs fought for air. The moment our bodies brushed earlier, heat had shot through me like a live wire. My thighs were still trembling from it. Maybe it was hormones or pure stupidity or the fact that I was in this room with this man again.
I exhaled shakily, one hand pressed to my stomach.
My phone lit up violently in my hoodie pocket.
It was Ted.
"Hey, the bodyguards are asking for Hermes’s whereabouts.
Do what you have to do fast."
My heart dropped into my shoes.
Fast?
FAST?!
What did he expect me to do—knock Hermes over the head with a lamp until a memory fell out?!
No. No time.
No room for logic.
Hermes’s voice floated up from the cabinet.
"Uh—I can’t find—"
But he didn’t finish.
Because something inside me snapped.
I moved without thinking.
One step. Two.
Then I grabbed him by the collar and pinned him straight against the wall.
His back hit the wallpaper with a muted thud.
He shuddered—actually shuddered—his breath catching, his eyes going wide like he’d been caught doing something sinful.
"Hey—" His voice cracked a little. "W–What are you doing?"
I didn’t know.
God, I didn’t know.
My palms were flat on his chest, and I could feel his heartbeat slamming against my skin, wild and unprepared. The scent of him—clean, expensive, familiar—hit me like a memory I wasn’t allowed to claim.
My own breath was trembling out of me. My thighs tightened. Heat flooded
my face.
I leaned in until my lips hovered near his jaw.
"Do you…" I swallowed hard. "Do you want to have sex with me?"
His breath stopped.
So did mine.