Chapter 4

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered to myself, gripping my camera tighter as I walked into the Rosewood Hotel lobby.

I needed content for my blog, so I headed to Rosewood Hotel for some photos and videos. It was one of the top-rated hotels in the city, and the views were always breathtaking. I needed something fresh and exciting for my followers, so I figured a day at the hotel would be perfect. 

This was supposed to be a productive day—get content for my blog and youtube channel, take stunning photos of the hotel’s luxurious amenities, and maybe enjoy a peaceful afternoon by the pool.

But no. Fate had other plans.

Standing near the elevator, laughing with two ridiculously gorgeous women, was the same guy—The Worst Driver Alive. My experience with him a day ago had left a bad impression, and I never wanted to bump into him again.

He was dressed in a white shirt tucked into fitted black slacks, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off annoyingly perfect forearms. But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

It was the fact that he had two stunning women hanging off his arms. Both looked like high-end models. One had long, wavy blonde hair and wore a bright red dress that hugged her curves. The other had jet-black hair and legs that seemed to go on forever, her emerald-green dress shimmering under the sunlight.

I quickly turned away, my heart pounding for no reason. Why was I even surprised? Of course, a guy like him was with two gorgeous women. He probably had an entire list of them waiting in line.

"No wonder he has such a shitty personality. Women are all over him. His looks and popularity have already gotten into his small head. Disgusting," I muttered to myself.

They laughed at everything he said as he flirted with them. He probably thought he was God’s gift to women.

I swallowed my irritation and focused on blending into the background.

Don’t look. Don’t react. Just do your job, Ava.

I kept my head down, pretending to review photos on my camera in a corner, facing the wall.

One of the women pressed the elevator button, and I caught a glimpse of their conversation.

“Are we going up to have some fun?” the blonde asked, as she traced a finger across his chest.

“Of course,” he said casually. "That's why we're here."

The elevator dinged, and they stepped inside. As the doors closed, he glanced up, his gaze sweeping the lobby. I turned back to face the wall, my heart beating fast.

The last thing I saw before the elevator closed?

His hand on the waist of the one on green.

I rolled my eyes and turned away.

Whatever. Not my business. Not my problem.

Thankfully, he didn’t see me.

Good.

I shook my head. Focus, Ava. You’re here for work, not to spy on a playboy like him.

With them gone, I tried to shake off the annoyance and focus on my task. After taking some more pictures and doing some videos, I made my way to the pool area. The hotel’s outdoor pool was stunning, framed by swaying palm trees and classy white lounge chairs, fancy umbrellas, and a sparkling blue pool that stretched across half the space.The kind of place where people came to relax, spend too much money, and post pictures to make others jealous.

It was perfect.

I crouched near the edge of the pool, framing my shot. The angle was just right when a shadow fell over me.

“I know you're stalking me. Stop pretending. You staged that car accident just to get my attention or fabricate a story.”

I froze for a moment. I knew his voice, it was him. I bent my head down, almost laughing at his stupid statement.

Seriously? Me? Stalking him? Fat chance!

I didn’t bother looking up. Ignoring him was the best solution for my peace of mind. I focused on my camera, adjusting the settings.

"Guess you're a reporter... looking for a way to ruin me. I know ladies like you," he taunted.

I took a deep breath, keeping my eyes on the viewfinder.

“Ladies like you just want a piece of me, then keep quiet after collecting some money, gifts or maybe an erotic night with me. You’re all the same.”

That was it, I couldn't keep quiet as planned. 

"Think whatever you want, I don't care. I am not interested in anything about you." I finally responded. Waving my hand at him like I was chasing a fly away.

"So I guess it’s just a coincidence you were at the front earlier, too?" he spoke to me like I had to prove myself.

I crossed my arms. "Oh, you mean when you were walking into the hotel with your—" I made air quotes. "‘Friends’?"

He laughed a bit, sarcastically. "Jealous?"

I laughed too. "Not in this lifetime."

I snapped the photos I wanted from that angle and stood up trying to look like I wasn't interested in talking to him. But I made a mistake by standing up and facing his direction. 

I froze, my grip tightening on the camera.

There he was shirtless.

Water droplets clung to his hair, dripping down his skin down to his broad, chiseled abs that hinted at a disciplined gym routine. A small towel hung loosely around his neck.

Not that I was intentionally looking.

I quickly looked away, turning to walk off, but my foot slipped on the wet tiles.

“Oh my God!” I gasped, looking for how to gain balance.

Before I hit the ground, a strong hand gripped my arm, steadying me.

For a moment, I was too stunned to react. His grip was firm, his body too close. My hand had landed squarely on his chest which was warm, hard, and completely distracting. I froze, realizing where my hand was.

Am I staring at his chest like I’ve never seen a shirtless man before?

“Careful, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you falling all over me,” he said, trying to mock me.

I jerked my hand back like I’d been burned, my face was turning pink or maybe red.

“Don’t call me sweetheart, and let go of me,” I snapped.

He released me, stepping back with an unconcerned expression. “As you wish.”

I glared at him, heart pounding for reasons I didn’t want to acknowledge. Without warning, he brushed past me, deliberately bumping my shoulder.

Thrown off balance, I stumbled backward, and fell straight into the pool.

The cold water swallowed me, and I came up sputtering, gasping for air. Everyone at the pool side were laughing like it was something funny. Including him and his side bitches.

I pushed my soaked hair out of my face, suppressing my rising anger.

He stood at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, completely unfazed.

“You asked for it,” he said casually.

“You—asshole!” I splashed water at him. “You did that on purpose!”

“You tripped yourself,” he said, bending down to take a good look at me in the pool. Like my frustration pleased him.

I swam to the other edge, pulling myself out with as much dignity as possible. My clothes clung to me, water dripping onto the floor.

“You are the most foolish person I’ve ever met,” I spat, walking up to him.

He froze, eyes widening slightly. Then I realized, my clothes were soaked through and completely see-through, clinging to my body.

I quickly grabbed a towel from a nearby chair, wrapping it around myself.

“At least your body’s better than your face,” he shot back.

That was it—the last straw.

I marched up to him and slapped him hard across the face. Gasps echoed around us.

The blonde woman stood up, storming toward me. “How dare you slap—”

“Do you want to get slapped too?” I glared at her with a dead serious face. She hesitated, clearly reading the seriousness in my expression, then backed off.

He didn’t say anything either, just stared at me with a look that promised we shouldn’t cross paths again.

Grabbing my camera bag, which thankfully hadn’t fallen into the water, I marched away, my wet shoes squeaking against the floor.

One thing was clear:

I hated him. No! I despised him, with my whole heart, soul and body.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered to myself, gripping my camera tighter as I walked into the Rosewood Hotel lobby.

I needed content for my blog, so I headed to Rosewood Hotel for some photos and videos. It was one of the top-rated hotels in the city, and the views were always breathtaking. I needed something fresh and exciting for my followers, so I figured a day at the hotel would be perfect. 

This was supposed to be a productive day—get content for my blog and youtube channel, take stunning photos of the hotel’s luxurious amenities, and maybe enjoy a peaceful afternoon by the pool.

But no. Fate had other plans.

Standing near the elevator, laughing with two ridiculously gorgeous women, was the same guy—The Worst Driver Alive. My experience with him a day ago had left a bad impression, and I never wanted to bump into him again.

He was dressed in a white shirt tucked into fitted black slacks, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off annoyingly perfect forearms. But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

It was the fact that he had two stunning women hanging off his arms. Both looked like high-end models. One had long, wavy blonde hair and wore a bright red dress that hugged her curves. The other had jet-black hair and legs that seemed to go on forever, her emerald-green dress shimmering under the sunlight.

I quickly turned away, my heart pounding for no reason. Why was I even surprised? Of course, a guy like him was with two gorgeous women. He probably had an entire list of them waiting in line.

"No wonder he has such a shitty personality. Women are all over him. His looks and popularity have already gotten into his small head. Disgusting," I muttered to myself.

They laughed at everything he said as he flirted with them. He probably thought he was God’s gift to women.

I swallowed my irritation and focused on blending into the background.

Don’t look. Don’t react. Just do your job, Ava.

I kept my head down, pretending to review photos on my camera in a corner, facing the wall.

One of the women pressed the elevator button, and I caught a glimpse of their conversation.

“Are we going up to have some fun?” the blonde asked, as she traced a finger across his chest.

“Of course,” he said casually. "That's why we're here."

The elevator dinged, and they stepped inside. As the doors closed, he glanced up, his gaze sweeping the lobby. I turned back to face the wall, my heart beating fast.

The last thing I saw before the elevator closed?

His hand on the waist of the one on green.

I rolled my eyes and turned away.

Whatever. Not my business. Not my problem.

Thankfully, he didn’t see me.

Good.

I shook my head. Focus, Ava. You’re here for work, not to spy on a playboy like him.

With them gone, I tried to shake off the annoyance and focus on my task. After taking some more pictures and doing some videos, I made my way to the pool area. The hotel’s outdoor pool was stunning, framed by swaying palm trees and classy white lounge chairs, fancy umbrellas, and a sparkling blue pool that stretched across half the space.The kind of place where people came to relax, spend too much money, and post pictures to make others jealous.

It was perfect.

I crouched near the edge of the pool, framing my shot. The angle was just right when a shadow fell over me.

“I know you're stalking me. Stop pretending. You staged that car accident just to get my attention or fabricate a story.”

I froze for a moment. I knew his voice, it was him. I bent my head down, almost laughing at his stupid statement.

Seriously? Me? Stalking him? Fat chance!

I didn’t bother looking up. Ignoring him was the best solution for my peace of mind. I focused on my camera, adjusting the settings.

"Guess you're a reporter... looking for a way to ruin me. I know ladies like you," he taunted.

I took a deep breath, keeping my eyes on the viewfinder.

“Ladies like you just want a piece of me, then keep quiet after collecting some money, gifts or maybe an erotic night with me. You’re all the same.”

That was it, I couldn't keep quiet as planned. 

"Think whatever you want, I don't care. I am not interested in anything about you." I finally responded. Waving my hand at him like I was chasing a fly away.

"So I guess it’s just a coincidence you were at the front earlier, too?" he spoke to me like I had to prove myself.

I crossed my arms. "Oh, you mean when you were walking into the hotel with your—" I made air quotes. "‘Friends’?"

He laughed a bit, sarcastically. "Jealous?"

I laughed too. "Not in this lifetime."

I snapped the photos I wanted from that angle and stood up trying to look like I wasn't interested in talking to him. But I made a mistake by standing up and facing his direction. 

I froze, my grip tightening on the camera.

There he was shirtless.

Water droplets clung to his hair, dripping down his skin down to his broad, chiseled abs that hinted at a disciplined gym routine. A small towel hung loosely around his neck.

Not that I was intentionally looking.

I quickly looked away, turning to walk off, but my foot slipped on the wet tiles.

“Oh my God!” I gasped, looking for how to gain balance.

Before I hit the ground, a strong hand gripped my arm, steadying me.

For a moment, I was too stunned to react. His grip was firm, his body too close. My hand had landed squarely on his chest which was warm, hard, and completely distracting. I froze, realizing where my hand was.

Am I staring at his chest like I’ve never seen a shirtless man before?

“Careful, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you falling all over me,” he said, trying to mock me.

I jerked my hand back like I’d been burned, my face was turning pink or maybe red.

“Don’t call me sweetheart, and let go of me,” I snapped.

He released me, stepping back with an unconcerned expression. “As you wish.”

I glared at him, heart pounding for reasons I didn’t want to acknowledge. Without warning, he brushed past me, deliberately bumping my shoulder.

Thrown off balance, I stumbled backward, and fell straight into the pool.

The cold water swallowed me, and I came up sputtering, gasping for air. Everyone at the pool side were laughing like it was something funny. Including him and his side bitches.

I pushed my soaked hair out of my face, suppressing my rising anger.

He stood at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, completely unfazed.

“You asked for it,” he said casually.

“You—asshole!” I splashed water at him. “You did that on purpose!”

“You tripped yourself,” he said, bending down to take a good look at me in the pool. Like my frustration pleased him.

I swam to the other edge, pulling myself out with as much dignity as possible. My clothes clung to me, water dripping onto the floor.

“You are the most foolish person I’ve ever met,” I spat, walking up to him.

He froze, eyes widening slightly. Then I realized, my clothes were soaked through and completely see-through, clinging to my body.

I quickly grabbed a towel from a nearby chair, wrapping it around myself.

“At least your body’s better than your face,” he shot back.

That was it—the last straw.

I marched up to him and slapped him hard across the face. Gasps echoed around us.

The blonde woman stood up, storming toward me. “How dare you slap—”

“Do you want to get slapped too?” I glared at her with a dead serious face. She hesitated, clearly reading the seriousness in my expression, then backed off.

He didn’t say anything either, just stared at me with a look that promised we shouldn’t cross paths again.

Grabbing my camera bag, which thankfully hadn’t fallen into the water, I marched away, my wet shoes squeaking against the floor.

One thing was clear:

I hated him. No! I despised him, with my whole heart, soul and body.