Chapter seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

One of Hardin’s men drives me back to my hotel, silent the entire way.

And the whole time, all I can think about, is sex.

I’m insane.

Utterly insane.

My life is collapsing, a scandal waiting to explode, a psycho like Steve threatening to ruin me…

And yet my brain keeps circling back to sex.

To needing a man.

To needing release.

I can’t go back to my room like this—not sober, not calm, not untouched.

The car pulls off. I pretend to walk into the hotel, waiting for the taillights to disappear.

The moment they do, I step back out, ready to sneak off somewhere, to drown my stress in someone’s arms.

But then I look at myself properly.

I look like a mess. Tipsy. Rumpled. My makeup smudged.

I can’t attract my kind of man looking like this.

Thinking about it…

Hardin is exactly my type.

Too much my type.

That man is sin carved into human form.

I would kill for one night with him.

Just one.

Ugh. Even thinking about him makes my thighs tense.

I sigh, give up on sneaking around, and head to my room. I strip, jump under the shower, and scrub off the night.

When I step out, I glam up, hair, makeup, my sexiest gown hugging every curve, heels sharp enough to seduce a man.

There has to be a club inside this hotel.

A bar. A lounge. Something.

I’m not spending the night alone.

I open my door—

And slam straight into a brick wall of a man in a black suit.

“What the—? What’s going on? Who are you?”

He doesn’t blink.

“Boss Massimo instructed I stand by your door.”

Massimo.

Hardin’s goon.

My brows knit. “Well, I don’t need protection. You can go.”

Nothing.

Not a twitch.

He’s like a statue programmed to obey one person only.

I huff. “Fine. Move aside. I have an important meeting.”

He lifts an arm—not aggressively, just firmly and gently ushers me backward.

“You’re not leaving this room, Miss.”

“Are you serious?” I snap. “What kind of hotel lets a man block my fucking door?!”

He stares past me, unfazed. Unmovable. A robot in human skin.

There’s no point arguing. He’ll probably take a bullet before letting me pass.

I stomp back inside, slam the door, and throw my clutch onto the bed.

Great.

Perfect.

I’m dolled up like a goddess with no one to worship me.

And I can’t even call Hardin, because I don’t have his damn number.

“Ugh, I hate this,” I mutter, pacing. “And I’m horny. This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to think properly?”

I grab a glass, pour way too much alcohol, and start drinking.

Fast.

Straight.

I keep going until everything blurs, until my anger, my frustration, my desire all melt into a warm, numbing haze.

The room wobbles.

My limbs go heavy.

My lashes fall.

And I pass out, still in my gown, makeup perfect, thighs pressed together.

Wasted.

************************************

I wake up to the shrill, endless buzzing of my phone.

My skull feels like someone is hitting it with a steel hammer.

I groan, roll over, and squint at the screen.

Missed Calls: 14

Time: 12:07 PM

“What the hell…”

How did I sleep this long?

What excuse am I even supposed to give?

The phone starts ringing again. I force myself upright, grab it, and answer.

“Hello…?”

The familiar calm voice of the air officer in charge fills my ear.

“Amelia? Why haven’t you come to the airport? We’ve been trying to reach you.”

Instant panic spikes through my veins. I straighten my voice, slipping into character as effortlessly as I slip into my uniform on a normal day.

“I—I’m so sorry,” I say, adding the perfect crack of weakness. “I came down with a terrible flu last night. Fever. Headache. I couldn’t even stand. I should’ve called, but I fell asleep while trying to take some meds.”

There’s a long pause on his end.

Then he softens. “Ah… no wonder. It’s unlike you to skip a flight without notice.”

I press a hand to my throbbing forehead. “I know. I feel horrible about it. I think I need to see a doctor. I don’t want to risk flying like this.”

“Of course,” he says immediately. “Your health comes first. I’ll put in a request for a one-week rest for you. Recover properly.”

Relief floods my chest so fast I almost collapse.

“Thank you so much,” I breathe. “Really. Thank you.”

“Take good care of yourself, Amelia. We’ll manage things here.”

The call ends.

I let out a heavy, shaky sigh and fall back on the bed.

Saved—for now.

But as the room spins and last night’s memories crawl back into my head.l

Today is far from over.

I drop the phone beside me and rub my temples.

Why do I still feel sleepy?

It hits me then, just how much I’ve been running on fumes.

Flights. Shoots. Content creation. Men. Stress. Blackmail.

My body has finally crashed.

I drag myself out of bed long enough to order breakfast from room service.

Something simple. Something heavy. Anything to soak up the alcohol I drowned in last night.

When the food arrives, I barely manage to eat half.

My eyes sting. My limbs feel like sandbags.

God… I didn’t even realize how much strain I’ve been putting on myself.

No wonder I slept through half the day.

I push the tray aside and sink back into the pillows.

The mattress is warm. The air is quiet.

My bones loosen, and exhaustion pulls at me like gravity.

Just for a moment, I tell myself.

Just a short rest.

But the second my eyes close,

I’m gone.

slipping straight back into sleep

before I can even think about fighting it.

***

I wake up a few hours later, stretching and yawning until my spine pops.

Yeah… I really deserve naps like this. For once, my body isn’t screaming at me.

“Oh, Snow…” I groan, rubbing my eyes.

I should be home right now, cuddling her fluffy white fur, not hiding in a hotel room like a criminal.

Plans changed, and I hope she’s okay.

I quickly hit FaceTime, praying the housekeeper is home.

She picks up on the second ring, and relief washes through me when she angles the camera toward my baby.

Snow is sprawled on her back, tiny paws stretched out like she owns the house.

“Look at you, princess,” I coo, smiling despite everything.

To the housekeeper I say, “I’ll be home tomorrow. Please make sure she gets a warm bath and her usual care, okay?”

“Of course,” she replies.

When the call ends, the silence drops heavily around me again.

It’s strange.

I haven’t gotten a single call or message from Steve.

He should’ve been threatening me, stalking my phone, trying to break me down by now.

The quiet…

It makes everything worse.

Maybe he’s waiting for the perfect time to ruin me.

A cold shiver crawls through my spine.

And then there’s Hardin.

I don’t know what he wants from me yet.

It feels strange.

But I can’t turn back now.

I’ve already stepped into his world, whether I wanted to or not.

The remaining hours pass slowly.

I work on my laptop, eat, answer emails, schedule posts, pretend for a moment that my life is normal.

But every tick of the clock tightens my chest.

By the time I look up again, it’s already 10 p.m.

Time to move.

I head to my suitcase and pull out something simple, dark leggings, oversized hoodie, cap low over my face.

Something that hides everything, even my walk.

I tie my hair up, slip into flat shoes, and stare at myself in the mirror.

Unrecognizable.

Good.

I grab my phone, slip out the door quietly, and his goon has left.

I’m heading to the location Hardin gave me.

And whatever waits for me there…

I can only pray it won’t destroy me.

The taxi refuses to drive deeper into the area, mumbling something about “restricted zones,” so he drops me far from the actual location.

Great.

Just what I need, darkness, silence, and my own paranoia as company.

I wrap my hoodie tighter around myself and start walking.

It feels like stepping into a place that doesn’t exist on any map.

Every crunch of gravel under my shoes echoes too loudly.

Every shadow feels like it’s watching me.

Every instinct screams turn around.

I’m seconds from panicking when a tall figure slips out from behind a broken fence.

“Jesus—” I choke, stumbling back. My heart nearly stops.

He lifts both hands calmly.

“The boss sent me to bring you.”

His voice is low, steady, like he does this every night.

My fingers tremble, but I force my body to move.

I follow him through a narrow alley that reeks of rust and damp metal.

We slip into an abandoned warehouse, no lights, no windows, nothing but faint moonlight leaking through cracked walls.

Then I see it.

A man slumped on the cold concrete.

Another seated in a metal chair, smoke curling around him like a crown of shadows.

Hardin.

His cigarette glows like a red eye in the dark.

Smoke thickens the air, heavy and suffocating.

My gaze shifts to the man on the floor…

And my entire body freezes.

“Steve…?”

The name never makes it out. My lips just move silently as my stomach drops.

It’s him.

Barely recognizable.

His face is swollen, blotched purple, blood crusting along his temple and jaw.

I slap a hand over my mouth to trap the scream clawing its way out of my throat.

This is why he didn’t call and went silent.

He lifts his head, eyes leaking tears, voice shredded from crying or screaming—I don’t know which.

“Amelia…” he rasps, dragging himself closer on his knees.

“I—I did everything they asked… the drive… my phone… everything’s gone… please…”

Seeing Steve Carter, a man who acts untouchable, who struts through airports like a god reduced to this?

On the floor.

Begging.

It twists something deep inside me.

Fear.

Horror.

He keeps babbling, voice cracking.

“I swear… I didn’t know you’d bring… him. I never would’ve—never would’ve tried that with you if I knew you had Massimo protecting you…”

Hardin doesn’t flinch.

Doesn’t even bother looking at Steve.

He just smokes slowly, eyes fixed on me like I’m the only person in this room.

My throat tightens.

“I—I just want the tape gone,” I whisper, barely breathing.

Hardin finally stands.

He crushes his cigarette under his boot with deliberate slowness.

“Handled.”

Before I can ask what that means, before my brain can catch up.

Hardin draws a gun.

A soft metal click.

A breath of silence.

Then a shot.

Steve’s body hits the ground like his strings were cut.

Blood paints the concrete in a dark, spreading halo.

I collapse instantly, my knees giving out as if someone yanked the bones from my legs.

A strangled sound escapes me, hands shaking so violently I can’t even steady myself.

I just watched someone die.

Right in front of me.