It’s too late for you to leave

Allison’s POV

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Tossing from one end of my bed to the other, I kept replaying everything—the way he looked, the way he moved, the way my body had betrayed me in his presence. I still couldn’t believe my wish had come true: seeing Mr. Gorgeous again, and so soon. My heart was both light and heavy, fluttering wildly as though it were trying to escape my chest.

By morning, I woke up brighter than the sun itself.

“Alli, has something happened?” Mama asked, watching me with a knowing smile.

“Mama, what do you mean?” I asked, trying to sound normal.

“You look… different. So delighted. I couldn’t help but notice.”

I laughed softly, brushing off her observation. “Mama, you’ve always taught us to create our own joy, to be happy without waiting for anyone else. That’s all I’m doing.”

She shook her head, smiling fondly. “How did you grow up so fast?”

I giggled, feeling a warmth in my chest. I wished I could tell her everything, but the memory of him—the way his eyes burned into me—was too private, too consuming.

I had the night shift at the hotel that day, so by 5 p.m., I left for work. A part of me ached that I hadn’t heard from him all day. He had promised to call… but how would he have my number? I muttered to myself, trying to calm my nerves. Relax, Allison. You’re overthinking it.

Arriving at the hotel, I went straight to the staff quarters I shared with Clara. After changing into my uniform, I got to work, pushing my cleaning cart down the endless corridors.

“Hey, baby!” Clara called, falling into step beside me.

“Where have you been?” I asked.

“Zach sent me on an errand outside,” she said with a sigh. “Typical Zach.”

She frowned, glancing at my pale face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Really.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she let it go—for now. Still, I knew she could tell something was off.

Hours dragged. My shift crawled as worry began to creep in. Had he forgotten about me? Am I really losing my mind over a stranger who barely knows me? I muttered to myself, forcing calm. I even peeked at the penthouse checklist, hoping for a sign, anything, that he was still here.

Finally, my shift ended. Clara had the night shift, leaving me alone in the quarters. I took a quick shower and crawled into bed with a book, though my mind refused to focus. Every page blurred as I replayed our encounter in the penthouse—the way his hands had held me, the way he had looked at me…

Then my phone rang. No caller ID.

My pulse shot through the roof. My hands trembled as I swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

“How was your day?” His voice—oh, that voice—made every nerve in my body stand on fire. I recognized it instantly.

“Um… it was great. Is this… Clyde?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

A soft chuckle. So familiar, so intoxicating.

“You recognize my voice… or have you been waiting for this call?”

“Maybe both,” I admitted, feeling heat creep across my cheeks.

“That sounds… sexy,” he said smoothly. “I should’ve called sooner. Work caught up with me.”

“That’s okay. At least you called.”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just reading a book,” I replied softly.

“Get dressed in five minutes. Someone will pick you up at the front gate.”

My heart leapt. I rushed, almost fumbling with my clothes, excitement and nerves jostling for control. Moments later, a text arrived: A black SUV will be waiting.

Outside, the car gleamed under the streetlights. A tall man stood beside it, casually confident, broad smile in place.

“You must be Allison,” he said. I nodded, and he opened the door.

“I’m Diego,” he said, sensing my nerves.

“I’m Allison. Nice to meet you,” I replied.

“He was right—you’re a charmer,” Diego said with a chuckle, and I managed a small, embarrassed smile.

The ride was brief but felt endless. When we stopped, my breath caught at the skyscraper before me. Glass and steel stretched impossibly high, lights reflecting off its mirrored surface.

“This way,” Diego said. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Inside, I followed silently, heart hammering. The elevator ride felt eternal. My palms were sweaty, and my stomach was a storm.

When the doors opened, I stepped onto marble floors that gleamed under crystal chandeliers. Then, the sound of a familiar voice stopped me.

“Hi, Allison.”

I froze. My pulse thundered. I turned slowly.

There he was. Leaning casually against a wall, glass of whiskey in hand, dressed in simple but flawless homewear. Effortless. Dangerous.

“Clyde…” I breathed.

He closed the distance, each step deliberate, magnetic. His fingers brushed my cheek lightly, sending shivers down my spine.

“I’m glad you came,” he whispered, locking eyes with me.

I nodded, unable to find words. My throat felt tight, my chest too full.

“You look beautiful,” he added. My cheeks flamed.

He poured me a glass of wine, and we sat at the large dining table. Hours passed with stories about my family, my childhood. He spoke little, listening intently, his dark eyes never leaving me.

“Are you leaving the city soon?” I asked, trying to steady my voice.

“Only when my business is done,” he said.

Past midnight, I insisted I should go back to the hotel.

“No,” he said firmly. “It’s too late for you to go out alone.”

“I can’t just sleep here—”

“You’re staying,” he interrupted, voice harsh. Then he softened sensing my fear. “You’re welcome here anytime, Allison.”

I swallowed, nerves and relief coiling together. “Alright,” I whispered.

“Come on,” he said gently, guiding me. “I’ll show you to your room.”