Chapter 3—Mistaken Identity.

~SARA~

My breaths catches. Actually, snags in my throat the more I stare at him.

His…[*cough, cough,*] member is now erect, shooting out in it's full glory and a sudden urge to lick my lips comes over me.

God. What is wrong with me?

I haven’t been with many men, but the few I've been with were perfect in that… area. Jason was the best amongst them [mostly one of the reasons I resented Mira]

But this man in front of me…

He is a lot older, probably in his forties but he is something else.

Something Rare. Something Dangerous. Something Intimidating.

He looks like he stepped right out of one of those forbidden mafia novels I read on w******l platforms with shoulders so broad that they could slice through water, muscles so tight and cut like someone sculpted him with ruthless precision.

A face so sinfully handsome and violently masculine that you could kiss the lord for such beautiful creation.

And his eyes.

God, his eyes… They were dark, intense, predatory, like he could devour someone with a single look.

Just mere looking at him, my body reacts. Heat slides under my skin in a slow, traitorous burn and I resist the urge to glide my fingers to my little kitten.

There is danger rolling off him in waves. A danger that warns me to stop staring, warns me to walk away.

But I don't.

Something about him pulls me closer, like I’m already caught in his gravity.

Unfortunately, he notices. As his eyes,

Lorrrrd. Those piercing hazel green eyes darkens, his jaw clenching so hard that it could slice an apple.

“What?” he snaps. “You haven’t seen men like me in your line of work?”

Finally, with the last restraint I could shread from my bones, I tear my gaze away from him, “Erm… I—”

He barely spares me any attention as he walks to the bench and drops on it, closing his eyes as he places his hands behind his head.

“Stop the long talks,” he drawls, “Strip down and get to business already.”

My brow narrows. Strip down?

“Sorry, sir, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone.”

His eyes snaps open and he jerks upright, “Mistaken?”

“I’m saying,” I continue carefully, “I’m not whoever you think I am.”

Silence.

He stares at me for a moment, his eyes boring into me like they could pierce my soul.

The silence stretches into a few seconds and finally he grunts, “Do you think that acting shy and pretending to be confused would help you get a better raise?”

My lips part, “What?”

“I've made it quite clear to your madam that I don't naive girls, most especially virgins,” he drawls.

“Vir. Vir… Virgins?” I stutter, disbelief washing over me,“You think I’m—what—some kind of—”

He lifts a hand, cutting me off with an unbotherrd wave, “Spare me the lies. This is a private area. The receptionist sent you here herself. Jake handles the bookings and he never makes a mistake. You’re late. I don’t care why. Just strip down and get into business.”

I stare at him, stunned and livid.

“Are you calling me a call girl?”

He shrugs, unapologetically bored. “If that’s what you prefer to call yourself.”

I actually choke, my eyes almost popping out their sockets.

“You arrogant—unbelievable—,” I stutter, “Listen to me. I work in advertising, not—NOT whatever you think!”

He stands and places his hands at both sides of his waist, towering over me, “Then why are you here?”

“Because!” I yell, “your incompetent staff sent me to the wrong place!”

He narrows his eyes, studying me like I’m lying for sport, “Right.”

“You know what?” I bark. “Call Jake. CALL HIM.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw and he picks a phone from the bench.

“Fine,” he says, dialing into the phone. The call rings for one second and the other line answers.

“Get down here. Now. Bring the receptionist while at it,” he commands.

The second he hangs up, he grabs a towel, wraps it around his waist, and stands there tapping a foot like I’ve personally ruined his entire life.

In a minute, Jake arrives with the receptionist trailing behind him. As soon as he steps into the area, he stops dead when he sees me.

“Care to explain what is going on?” the man asks, pulling his brows to a frown.

Jake swallows. “Boss… there—there’s been a mix-up. She’s… not the girl I booked.”

A–ha! I make to react but a shout outsides stops me dead on my tracks.

The attendant stumbles in, trying to stop a barely dressed red-haired girl chewing gum like she owns the building from stepping inside. She shoves him aside and struts in.

One look at her and I know exactly what she is. Her clothes, her confidence, the practiced sway of her hips. I don’t have to be told.

Jake gestures at the red haired girl helplessly, “This is the girl I booked for you, boss.”

The receptionist blinks between us.

“Sara Jane?”

Both the redhead and I answer, “Yes?”

Her face turns pale, “I—I must have… mixed something up.”

“Unbelievable,” the man grunts, his nose flaring in rage, “ didn't you care to verify the room number?”

The receptionist bows her head in shame. The redhead shoves her aside and saunters toward him.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she moans, drawling her fingers down his bare chests , “I’ll calm you—”

He knocks her hands away, furious. Pushing her aside like she was a piece of doll he was no longer interested in.

He tucks at his towel and makes to leave when I step forward, blocking him.

He must be dreaming if he thinks he could get away with this.

“Where do you think you're going?” I ask, stretching my arms sideways.

Jake and the receptionist, now standing behind him, silently scream don’t do that! with their eyes.

He raises a brow. “What do you want now? After ruining my day?”

“An apology,” I say, chin high.

Jake squeaks. The receptionist grips at her skirt like she might faint.

The man… laughs. Dark and low.

“Apologize?”

My stomach flips but I hold my ground. “Yes. Why not?”

His smirk is lethal, “Very well.”

BAM!

He grabs me. One-handed and throws me over his shoulder.

“S-stop! What are you—?!”

And then—

SPLASH.

I hit the pool. Water closes over my head and I splutter to the surface like a drowning chicken.

He crouches at the edge, grinning, “How’s that for an apology?”

“You bloody bastard!” I yell, splashing water. “You will PAY for this!”

He chuckles, Then stops. His eyes turning into dangerous gaze, “I’d like to see you try,” he says and then turns,

“Jake,” he calls, “look at her carefully. Never send an average girl like this to me even if she is the only girl left on earth.”

Average. He dares call me average?

I want to drown him.

Jake winces, shoots me a terrified look, and follows him out.

“Come back you bloody bastard. Come back and finish this off with me, you god damned cowards,” I yell after him.

But he only winks at me and walks aways.

****

Three hours later….

I pace my hotel room like a caged animal, fury simmering hotter into my bone with every step.

I’ve tried everything. Calling, asking, demanding. But no one will tell me who that man is. Not even the damned receptionist that caused this whole ruckus in the first place.

It’s like he's a ghost. A demon that no one dares mention.

My phone rings.

I pick it from bed and peer at the screen.

Sandra.

Why is she calling? I thought she told me to enjoy this stupid vacation.

I answer, “Sandra?”

Her voice is brisk. “Change of plans. The client is demanding to see you tomorrow. Seven PM sharp. Pack your bags, drive to the airport, get on the plane. Your ticket’s booked.”

“Whoa—whoa—what?” I say, slamming her brakes, “I thought you said I’m on leave!”

“I don’t know what happened,” she says. “But his PA called insisting you meet him tomorrow.”

I raise a brow, “Why?”

“Am not sure, ” she replies from the other end, “but he said something about someone ruining his boss's vacation.”