CHAPTER 3: Hotel

“What?” I looked out the window as the car began to move. “Where are we going?”

“The deal is that I act as your real boyfriend,” Edward replied as he drove out of the lounge. “Are you tired already?”

I shifted in my seat, my jaw tightening. “Me? Tired? No way.”

“Then let’s keep the fire burning.”

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he focused on the road, changing lanes and navigating the evening traffic with calculated efficiency. I watched the city lights blur past, the silence between us heavy but charged.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked again after five minutes of silence.

“Relax, girlfriend,” Edward said, his voice calm. “We need to get ready for the party. Remember?”

Five minutes later, he drove through the secure, heavily guarded gates of a massive luxury hotel. The modern building towered over the Boston skyline. He parked in a reserved spot.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, looking around.

“This is where I lounge,” he replied, switching off the engine.

“You’re staying in a hotel?”

“Yes. Is anything wrong with that?”

“Nothing is wrong with it,” I muttered, shaking my head as I reached for the door handle, eager to get some space.

We walked through a private entrance, bypassing the main lobby. Edward led the way to an express elevator that took us directly to his suite on the top floor. When he unlocked the door, it was spacious. The ceiling lights brightened every corner.

He walked over to the king-sized bed in the adjoining room, dropped his keys onto the bedside table with a metallic jingle, and gestured toward a white sofa.

“Have a seat.”

I remained standing, my fingers still gripping the handle of my suitcase like a support system. I wasn’t about to make myself comfortable in a stranger’s suite, no matter how much I was paying him.

Edward didn’t seem to care or press the matter. He unclasped his gold wristwatch and dropped it onto the bedside table with a soft thud. Next, he removed his designer suit jacket with practiced ease and hung it neatly in the closet. He pulled his silk tie from his collar, tossed it into the closet, and began unbuttoning his cuffs. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms and faintly visible veins.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and looked straight into my eyes.

“What’s your story?”

“My story?” I stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Yes. Your story. From the look of things, you’re on a journey.”

I finally let go of my suitcase and walked toward the sofa, sinking into the soft cushions.

“I don’t have a story.”

“Who’s the guy you want to make jealous tonight?” he asked, ignoring my denial.

“No guy…”

“Are you trying to convince yourself, girlfriend?” His voice was laced with mockery.

Knowing I couldn’t convince him otherwise, I gave up the pretense.

“Fine. He was my boyfriend.”

A short laugh escaped him. “Was? He’s your ex?”

“Not until this evening,” I said, my defensive tone kicking in. “I mean, he was my boyfriend for five years. Until I caught him cheating on me with my best friend. Less than two hours ago. In his own bed.”

The amusement vanished from Edward’s expression. He went still, his dark eyes softening with genuine sympathy.

“That must be really hard on you. So, you want to pay him back in his own coin?”

“Yes. I want him to feel the pain of betrayal. I want him to see exactly what he threw away.”

“Why not just walk away instead?” Edward asked, adjusting his rolled-up sleeve. “He’s not worth the energy.”

“I can’t have my peace until I get my pound of flesh,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper.

“What about your best friend?”

“I’ll deal with her in due time.”

Edward let out a low whistle, a faint smirk returning to his lips. “Uhm… You’re an avenger.”

He stood up straight, stretched his tall frame, and headed toward the bathroom.

“Give me some time to clean up.”

“I’ll go and book my own room,” I said quickly, standing and turning toward the door.

He stopped and turned to face me. “Okay. But you can use my suite. There’s plenty of space.”

“Thanks. But I need my space. I believe you need yours too.”

I grabbed the handle of the suitcase, pulled it into the corridor, and took the elevator down to the front desk. It took less than five minutes to swipe my card, pay the steep standard rate, and secure a private room on the floor directly below his.

The moment the door to my new room clicked shut, I left the suitcase on the luggage rack and walked straight into the bathroom. I turned the shower to its coldest setting and stepped under the icy stream. The shock of the water stole my breath, and finally, the tears came. I let myself sob, the sound muffled by the rush of water, as I watched five years of promises wash down the drain.

When I stepped out, the tears had stopped. My eyes were bloodshot, but my gaze was cold.

I blow-dried my hair, combing it until it fell over my shoulders in smooth waves. From my suitcase, I pulled out a short, sleeveless gold gown I had ordered days ago for what was supposed to be a celebratory birthday night. It fit like a second skin, hugging my curves and catching the light whenever I moved.

Sitting on the vanity, I did a bold makeover. I traced my eyes with sharp, winged eyeliner and chose a dark lip color. I sprayed my most expensive perfume, letting its scent linger in the room. Finally, I fastened my diamond jewelry around my neck and wrists, stepped into my designer heels, and slung a matching gold chain purse over my shoulder.

When I looked into the full-length mirror, I couldn’t find the heartbroken girl who had been crying in the shower. In her place stood a woman armed for war.