2

My eyes opened from my slumber

The bed I laid on was too soft. Too warm. Too… heavenly.

For a second, I didn’t want to move. The sheets felt like they were woven from angel wings and cashmere dreams. I let out a satisfied sigh and nuzzled deeper into the pillow.

If this was the afterlife, I wasn’t complaining.

But then, something prickled at the edge of my brain. A wrongness. A tickling sense of off.

My eyes fluttered open slowly.

I blinked at the cream-colored ceiling. Then at the glossy chandelier above. The velvet curtains. The insanely luxurious furniture. The smell of expensive scents in the air.

What the…?

I sat up halfway as reality slapped me in my face..

This wasn’t my room.

This wasn’t even my life.

Before I could process anything, the bedroom door opened.

And in walked a man.

No! A demi-god.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Messy black hair that screamed I-woke-up-like-this. Sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could end lives, and eyes as dark as a scandal.

I stared at him, breath caught, because clearly, I was still dreaming.

Until he opened his mouth.

“What the hell is a naked woman doing in my bed?”

My brain froze.

Naked?

I looked down and screamed, grabbing the duvet and yanking it up to my chin.

“W.. What did you do to me?!” I shrieked.

He blinked. Then scoffed, like I’d just asked if two plus two was actually twenty.

“Me? Please. I don’t know who you are, how you got in here, or what you think this is,but you’ve got exactly thirty seconds to leave before I call the cops.”

I gaped at him. “What do you mean how I got here? You...you kidnapped me!”

His brows lifted like I’d just told him I was Beyoncé’s twin sister.

“Oh, wow,” he muttered. “Not just rude, but mentally deranged. Fantastic.”

“I’m serious!” I shot back, clutching the duvet tighter. “I don’t know where my clothes are, how I got here, or who you even are!”

“This is my suite,” he said coolly. “That’s my bed. And you? Are a complete stranger, trespassing half-naked in my space.”

My throat tightened. I wanted to cry. Scream. Something.

But all I could do was sit there, shaking, because nothing made sense.

“I don’t know how I got here,” I said, voice wobbling. “I swear. I was at work. I...I was going to Room 708.”

His eyes narrowed. “This is Room 708.”

My heart plummeted. “What?”

I stared at him like he’d just slapped me with a bag of bricks.

No. No, that couldn’t be right. This wasn’t...

“I was going to… meet Brian Jay,” I whispered, half to myself. “I was just...just delivering lunch to Room 703…”

And then black.

Total blackout.

I clutched the duvet tighter, horror curling in my stomach. “You seriously think I did this on purpose?”

He looked at me like I was gum under his designer shoe.

“I don’t care what your intentions were,” he said. “But if you don’t leave this room in the next twenty seconds...”

“I’m going, okay?!”

I shuffled off the bed, wrapping the duvet around me like it was the last ounce of dignity I had left. My cheeks were burning, my head spinning, and I just wanted to get out of there before my soul shriveled from shame.

I reached the door.

Took one step.

And then,

The duvet slipped.

Right off.

Stark. Naked. Again.

I froze.

This stranger actually turned away, rubbing a hand over his face like this entire morning was beneath him.

“I swear I’m not doing this on purpose!” I squealed, grabbing at the fabric and failing miserably.

He let out a long sigh. “Unbelievable.”

“Look,” I said, cheeks on fire, “just… do you have something I can wear? A shirt? Anything? Unless you want me streaking through your million-dollar hallway like a maniac.”

A beat passed.

He didn’t respond.

Then, he walked to his wardrobe, pulled out a plain black shirt, and tossed it at me without a word.

It smelled like cologne, confidence, and judgment.

But I didn’t care. I yanked it over my head and hugged it to my body.

“Thanks,” I muttered, eyes to the floor.

“Don’t thank me,” he said coolly. “Just leave.”

His shirt hung loose on me like a tent, but I didn’t care. It was better than standing there in my skin.

I turned toward the door, one hand on the knob, the other gripping the hem of the shirt. I was seconds from leaving when something bubbled up in my throat,something I hadn’t dared to ask until now.

I hesitated.

My voice was small.

“Uhm…” I swallowed. “Did you… did we… I mean, last night, did you....did we do anything?”

He turned to face me fully now, and I immediately regretted asking.

The look on his face?

Pure, unfiltered frustration!

Like I was a mosquito buzzing in his nose.

“No,” he snapped. “We didn’t do anything. Trust me, I wouldn’t touch someone who shows up unconscious and uninvited in my bed. Now just leave.”

I flinched.

Nodded, heart hammering in my chest, and opened the door.

Bright hallway lights blasted my face.

And then came the real horror.

Flashes. Voices. Chaos.

I froze.

A dozen camera lenses aimed right at me like I was some kind of red carpet celebrity... or a criminal.

“Is that her?”

“Who is she?”

“Did she spend the night with Mr. Nathan Blake?”

“Are you his new girlfriend?”

“Was this a secret hook-up?”

My brain shut down. My ears rang.

Wait,who?!

“Nathan who?” I blinked at one of the men shoving a mic toward my mouth. “What are you talking about?”

But my words were drowned out by more flashes and shouting.

Then one paparazzo said it clearly, slowly, like he was gifting me trauma on a silver platter.

“Are you the woman sleeping with Nathan Blake?”

And that’s when it hit me.

My stomach dropped.

I turned back toward the man inside the suite.

“Nat....Nathan Blake? The owner of Blake Heights hotel,the most expensive hotel in New York? Nathan,the young billionaire?

The air rushed from my lungs like I’d been slapped.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “You’re that Nathan Blake?!”

Of all people to end up naked next to… I woke up to the owner of the hotel I worked.

Before I could think, my fight-or-flight kicked in. I stepped back,but the hallway was blocked. No one moved. No one made space. Just lights, camera shutters, and way too many eyes.

I did the only thing my panicked brain could think of.

I turned and ran back inside.

I slammed the door behind me, chest heaving, face burning.

“Great,” I muttered, sliding down the wall. “Just fantastic.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Nathan’s voice bit from across the room.

“I tried to leave,” I snapped, “but paparazzi won't let me."

His jaw clenched.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and for the first time, I noticed I even had it on me. I pulled it out.

Notifications. Blowing. Up.

#MysteryGirlIn708

#NathanBlakeScandal

BREAKING: Billionaire Nathan Caught in Hotel Fling?

My hands shook.

“SO FAST?!!“