Dump Her Anywhere

Inside the dimly lit car, the tension was palpable. Irene leaned closer, her breath warm and heavy with the scent of liquor. Before Daniel could react, her lips were on his—soft, desperate, and intrusive.

Daniel froze for a heartbeat, stunned by her audacity. Then, like a spring snapping back, his annoyance surged. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled, shoving her away with more force than he intended.

Irene's head collided sharply with the car window, the thud echoing in the confined space. Her body slumped to the side, motionless, her hair spilling over her face.

"Shit," Daniel muttered, his heart skipping a beat. He leaned forward, panic flickering in his eyes as he shook her shoulder. “Hey, lady—wake up! Miss, can you hear me?”

Irene didn’t respond. She remained limp, her head lolling slightly to the side. For a moment, Daniel’s mind raced with the worst possibilities. He glanced at the divider.

“Ken!” he barked, his voice sharp and unsteady.

The driver’s calm reply came through the intercom. “Yes, sir? Is everything alright?”

Daniel was about to answer when Irene stirred, her hand fumbling blindly before grabbing his wrist with surprising strength. He flinched, his jaw tightening as she clung to him like a lifeline.

“I’m… sorry,” she mumbled, her voice slurred and incoherent. Her lips moved again, whispering fragmented phrases that made no sense. “Don’t leave me… I’ll be better, I promise.”

Daniel’s body stiffened at the unexpected contact, her warmth seeping through his sleeve. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure whether to pull away or let her hold on.

Then her grip tightened, and she pressed her face against his arm. “Don’t go, Dave,” she murmured, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Great,” Daniel muttered under his breath, his irritation mounting. “You’re drunk out of your mind.”

He looked toward the front of the car, rapping on the divider again. “Ken, take me to the nearest hotel. Right now.”

“Yes, sir,” Ken replied, his voice steady, though there was a hint of curiosity in his tone.

The car engine roared to life, and they began moving. Irene’s fragile whispers filled the space between them, incoherent and soft.

Despite his annoyance, Daniel felt an unwelcome pang of guilt watching her fragile state.

He sighed heavily, leaning back against the leather seat. “This is just perfect,” he muttered under his breath.

After some minutes the car pulled finally up to the grand entrance of a high-class hotel, its towering glass facade shimmering under the city lights.

Daniel stepped out of the vehicle with an air of irritation, adjusting his cufflinks as if to shake off the unpleasantness of the past hour.

His eyes narrowed at Ken, who was struggling to haul Irene’s limp body out of the back seat.

"Get her out of my car fast," Daniel snapped, his voice sharp. “Take her to a dumpster or something. I don't care do what you want.”

Ken hesitated, unsure if Daniel was serious, but he nodded nonetheless. With a grunt, he dragged Irene’s unsteady form out of the car.

Her head lolled against his arm, her mutterings a mixture of drunken gibberish.

Daniel turned on his heel and strode into the hotel, exuding a cold authority that immediately caught the attention of the staff.

He barely had time to sit down on one of the plush chairs in the lobby before a smartly dressed woman approached him, her polite smile unwavering.

“Mr. Blackwood,” she greeted, her voice tinged with deference. “How may we assist you this evening?”

Daniel glanced briefly at her, then gestured towards the entrance where Ken was awkwardly guiding Irene through the doors. “I need a room for that woman,” he said curtly.

The woman’s brows rose slightly as she caught sight of Irene, her makeup smeared and hair disheveled. But her professional demeanor didn’t waver. “Of course, sir,” she said smoothly. “I’ll handle it right away.”

She hurried to the reception desk, exchanged a few words with the clerk, and returned moments later with a room key in hand.

“Please, this way,” she said, gesturing for Ken to follow her.

Ken complied, half-carrying Irene as she stumbled and mumbled incoherently. Daniel watched them go, his fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest of the chair.

His gaze followed their retreating figures, an uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

He didn’t trust anyone—not even his driver—to handle this woman, no matter how much trouble she’d caused him tonight.

Annoying as she was, she was also vulnerable, her current state making her an easy target.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet.

Daniel strode after them, catching up just as they reached the room.

The staff member had just finished unlocking the door and was stepping out, bowing her head respectfully as she passed him.

“Sir,” she said politely before continuing on her way.

Inside, Ken was helping Irene onto the bed. Her body sprawled inelegantly across the mattress, one leg hanging off the side, her dress riding up slightly. Daniel’s jaw tightened at the sight.

“Leave,” he said curtly, gesturing for Ken to go.

Ken glanced at him, nodded, and bowed his head before slipping out of the room, leaving Daniel alone with Irene.

Daniel closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he let out a frustrated sigh.

His gaze flickered to the woman on the bed, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, her hair a wild halo around her head.

“What the hell am I even doing?” he muttered to himself, dragging a hand down his face.

She looked completely ridiculous, her limbs spread out like a marionette dropped mid-performance.

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he felt a pang of responsibility that he couldn’t shake.

He shook his head, annoyed at himself more than anything else, and stepped closer to the bed.

"You better not throw up in here," he murmured, half to himself, his voice that of irritation as he grabbed a blanket to cover her exposed legs and went straight into the bathroom