Chapter 115 Focus
❦ Rosalind ❦
I pulled up to the front of Emerald Intercontinental hotel, my car idling in a scant queue of cars . Everything gleamed, the glass, the marble, even the people.
I scowled.
I could only imagine the kind of shady things the owner of this place was into. No one got that rich by being clean.
Still, as I inched closer to the valet lane, my eyes wandered over the tall beautiful arches, spotless windows, and the golden light spilling out from inside. If this hotel ever went on sale, I’d buy it with the money from my last deal.
I could go into flipping hotels professionally, turning an oversight to a profession.
The thought made me snort. My first joke of the night, if you could even call it that.
Humor was a foolproof method, and I was intent on cramming the horror show that was tonight into a manageable corner of my brain, slap sarcasm on top, and pretend it’s all fine.
I’d deal with it later. After I found a bed. After I remembered how to breathe.
When I reached the valet stand, I rolled my window to the valet. He looked like a catalog model in his sharp suit, blond hair slicked back, and overly bright teeth.
“I’ll park myself,” I said, before he could open my door.
He blinked, recovered, then pointed me toward the guest lot.
“Thanks.” I said sweetly.
His gaze lingered, and I realized he was staring, probably because my nose was red and my eyes were swollen.
I must’ve looked like someone who’d cried in traffic. Which, well. Fair.
Mama had always hated how puffy my face got after I cried. She’d press cucumber slices unto my lids and play spa to console me.
I parked myself, shut the engine off, and sat there for a second. My hands were still shaking, though I pretended not to notice.
Then I forced myself out of the car and walked in through the side entrance. The lobby was warm and filled with quiet chatter, soft piano, and mingling perfume.
My jeans stuck to my thighs, and the crop top felt too tight and grimy. As though I’d gone through a battlefield.
I couldn’t wait to strip it all off and stand under a scalding hot shower. Then I’d order a stupidly expensive dinner, and pretend my life wasn’t falling apart.
I walked toward the reception desk.
Then I heard it. A voice that made my stomach drop.
Smooth. Confident. The voice that used to whisper sweet things that made my blood rush.
I froze.
I lifted my gaze, and there he was.
Orlov Conti.
I watched Orlov talk to the receptionist in a flirtatious tone. And, of course, there was a blond girl standing beside him with her arm literally looped through his. It wasn’t Dahlia.
And unless she’d finally had the grace to leave him, he was apparently cheating on her with the blond girl whilst simultaneously flirting with a receptionist.
Figures.
Of all the hotels in this damn city. And of all nights.
There was no way I could walk up to that desk without catching his attention, and I was really, really not in the mood for that kind of hell right now.
I lingered in the hall, but my eyes stayed on him.
He slid his phone across the counter to the receptionist, and she flipped her pin-straight dark hair seductively before taking it.
The girl beside him looked ready to commit a homicide, but I knew she wouldn’t go anywhere. Women like her never did.
He hadn’t changed. Not one bit.
I stood there, stuck between exhaustion and common sense, debating what to do.
My body felt heavy, my mind fogged. I was too tired to risk a scene, and too proud to walk away like a coward.
But when Orlov moved, almost turning in my direction, instinct made the choice for me.
I turned around and walked straight out of the hotel, my legs moving on autopilot.
By the time I reached my car, my eyes were stinging with fresh tears.
I wrenched the door open like it had personally wronged me and slipped inside, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ached.
I just sat there, breathing shaky breaths that didn’t help much.
Then a thought hit me.
What if the Contis had been part of the auction too?
Giancarlo Conti was in the perfect position to profit from owning the Grand Marlow.
The idea made my skin crawl. My mind started spinning.
I could’ve told myself it wasn’t my problem anymore. That I didn’t owe anyone a damn thing, but this wasn’t just about me anymore. It was bigger.
Innocent women and children were caught in the mess, being trafficked by the same syndicate I’d basically handed a free pass when I walked away from the only leverage we had.
And my father…
I swallowed hard. I didn’t even know who he was anymore. The thought of him brought a rush of flashes through my mind.
Mama’s perfume, the sound of shouting, Claudia’s arms scooping me up. The slam of the door behind us. The sick certainty that it was my father who’d done it.
I slammed my fist against the steering wheel, the sound cracking the silence.
“Focus,” I whispered. “Just… focus.”
I sat there until the shaking in my hands reduced, but the thoughts didn’t. They tumbled and churned in my mind.
If only I knew who bought the hotel.
If I knew that, then I could do something.
At least then, if I had to face Viktor again, I’d have valuable information to offer. He would take me more seriously than if I went back empty handed.
Wait. What was I doing?
Wasn’t I supposed to leave? That was the whole point. I’d planned to pack up and vanish, forgetting that all of this ever happened.
But now I was sitting here making plans to fix things. As if I wanted to stay. And what… prove myself? To who? Him?
I groaned, dropped my head back against the seat, and let out a groan.
I hated this feeling of being pulled in five directions at once. I hated the confusion most of all.
The way my heart and brain were always out of sync, fighting each other like they didn’t live in the same body.
I took a deep breathe, backtracking to trace where it all fell apart.
At first, all I wanted was to keep the hotel and prove everyone wrong. To show them that I could handle what I inherited, and I wasn’t a spoiled heiress coasting off her father’s empire.
Then Viktor came along and made it clear he’d take it from me one way or another. The man even tricked me into marriage. Marriage. Who does that?
So I decided to sell. Cut my losses, and stop him from getting it.
But then everything spiraled when Viktor told me about the syndicate, then I arranged the auction, then Viktor almost got killed. I tried to buy the hotel back, but it was gone before I even got the chance.
And now, when I should be halfway across the city by now, I’m still sitting here, in this stupid car, still thinking about him. Still trying to fix everything.
Why can’t I just let go?
Because I want to walk into Viktor’s office, drop a file on his desk, and say, ‘Here. I did something right this time.’
That thought stung more than it should have.
I laughed under my breath, but it came out shaky.
“Sometimes I love you,” I muttered, “and sometimes you make it so damn hard to.”
My own words startled me.
“Jesus. I need an MRI. Or a therapist. Or both.”
Then another tiny voice in my head whispered that I should just go to him right now and tell him everything. Tell him my fears, my mistakes, my wants. And stop trying to do everything alone.
The idea of letting someone else holding the weight for a while felt so good and warm.
I closed my eyes and let myself imagine it, walking in and telling him everything, his hand on my back, his deep voice telling me it’s fine, we’ll fix it.
I could almost feel it. Almost believe it.
But first things first. I needed to know who bought the hotel.
And there was only one man who could tell me that. Dominic. The auction manager.
I reached for my phone and saw several missed calls from Dante. And only one from Viktor.
Just one.
My heart clenched with disappointment.
But I exhaled hard and pushed the feeling down.
I opened Dominic’s chat and tapped the link he’d sent me some time ago. It led to his address on the map.
“Alright,” I whispered finally, already feeling energized with purpose.
I started the car.
And hit the gas.
But somehow, the car wasn’t fast enough to unlearn what I was running away from.