Chapter 3

I woke up with a jolt. My eyes snapped open to the dark. For a second I did not know where I was. Then I felt the arm across my waist and it came back. Last night, all of it, in ugly clear detail. Heat went to my face even though nobody was looking at me but me.

The clock on the nightstand said 4:17 in harsh red numbers. Steve Hayes was asleep next to me, breathing deep and even. Sleep had taken the edge off his face. Without that usual intensity sitting on him, he looked almost peaceful. The sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones were softer. His mouth was a little open. I stared longer than I should have. Dark lashes against his cheeks. One lock of hair fallen across his forehead.

My body ached in places I was not used to aching. I eased out from under his arm as carefully as I could. Time to leave. I had what I came for. Material for revenge. No reason to stay for the awkward morning after.

I went to the bathroom on my toes and shut the door without a sound before I turned on the light. The woman in the mirror barely looked like me. Hair wild. Lips a little swollen. Small red marks dotted along my neck and collarbone. I stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash last night off my skin.

Steve had been… not what I planned for. Not just how intense he was, which had overwhelmed me. It was how he paid attention even with all that experience. I had braced for cold. Maybe rough. Not the careful parts. Not him checking if I was okay.

I dried off and put the black slip back on. It was wrinkled past saving. When I came out of the bathroom he was still out cold. That surprised me. I had heard the insomnia rumors. How he barely slept more than a couple of hours at a time. And here he was, dead to the world.

I picked the borrowed hotel uniform up off the floor where I had dropped it last night. While I was moving around the room collecting my things, an idea hit. I took out my phone and opened the camera. I sat on the edge of the bed and lined up the shot. My hand reaching toward his open one. Rumpled sheets behind it. His bare chest and stomach in the frame. No face. Identifiable enough for people who knew what they were looking at. Discreet enough that I could still deny it if I had to.

Perfect. I posted it to my I*******m story with the caption Upgrading. Mark would see it in minutes. He always checked my social media first thing in the morning.

I dropped the phone in my purse and turned to go. A strong hand closed around my wrist. I gasped and spun. Steve was awake, gray eyes alert like he had not been asleep two seconds ago.

“Taking photos in my room has a f*e, you know,” he said. Sleep still in his voice. Nothing sleepy in his eyes. Before I could get a word out he pulled me back onto the bed with a strength I was not ready for. I landed on his chest with a noise I did not mean to make.

“I was just leaving,” I said, already out of breath as he rolled me under him.

“Were you?” His mouth found my neck and a shiver ran down my spine. “Without saying goodbye?”

Whatever smart line I had lined up died when he kissed me. One kiss turned into another. The dress I had just put back on ended up on the floor again.

—

When I woke up the next time, sunlight was coming through the windows and Steve was gone. The clock said 10:23. I sat up and winced at the soreness in muscles I did not even know I had. The suite was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner.

In the bathroom the daylight was mean. Red marks dotted my skin like a connect-the-dots puzzle. Neck. Breasts. Inner thighs. “Steve Hayes is as wild as the rumors say,” I muttered to myself, and touched a particularly dark one near my collarbone.

I showered again, fast, wrapped myself in one of those thick hotel robes, and went back to the bedroom. On the nightstand next to the clock there was a business card. Steve Hayes, CEO, Hayes Tech. Silver letters. Beside it, a small pill in a blister pack. The morning-after pill. My face burned at what that implied. I still appreciated that he left it.

I plugged in my dead phone and waited for it to come on. The second it did, the screen blew up. Twenty-seven texts. Fifteen missed calls. Dozens of I*******m notifications.

Most of the texts were from Mark. They started casual and then fell apart. Where are you? Is everything ok?? Then WHO THE HELL IS THAT GUY??? ANSWER ME!!! After that they got frantic. I’m coming to find you. This isn’t funny Freya! By six in the morning it was all caps. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME. I’M NOTHING WITHOUT YOU. The last one came at seven, a jumbled mess of begging. Please baby please call me, we can fix this. I'll do anything I swear.

I deleted every message and blocked his number. Then I blocked him on I*******m, T*****r, and F******k. Mark Bennett thought he had the faithful girlfriend who forgave every mess he made. He forgot I was born good at holding a grudge.

My phone rang the moment I finished cutting him out. Debby’s name on the screen.

“Oh my god, finally!” she squealed as soon as I answered. “That photo was so hot! I can’t believe you and Mark finally did it! Was he good? Please tell me he was worth the wait. How was his stamina? Did he—”

“It wasn’t Mark,” I cut in, and I did not even try to hide how pleased I sounded.

A beat of silence. “Wait, what? Then who…?” Another pause. “Freya Newton, please tell me that wasn’t who I think it was in your story.”

“If you’re thinking of Steve Hayes, then yes. It was.”

“WHAT?” Her voice went to a pitch I had never heard out of her. “Steve Hayes? The man who owns half of Manhattan? The tech mogul who eats startups for breakfast?”

I laughed. “Relax, Debby. It’s just a bit of fun.”

“Fun? With Steve Hayes?” She sounded actually alarmed. “Do you know how dangerous he is? He’ll use you and toss you aside like yesterday’s newspaper.”

“Perfect,” I said, looking at my nails. “That’s exactly what I want. Make sure you spread the word that I dumped Mark Bennett, by the way. Not the other way around.”

She let out a long breath. “You’re playing with fire. Steve isn’t like the college boys we dated. He’s calculated. He never does anything without a reason.”

“Neither do I,” I said. “I only need him for a month. Just long enough for Mark to realize who he lost.”

“A month? With Steve Hayes?” She laughed like I had lost my mind. “Freya, nobody dates Steve Hayes for that long. He’s notorious for one-night stands.”

“We’ll see,” I said, sounding sure even though a little doubt flickered through me. “Anyway, don’t you have that meeting with the potential celebrity client today? I should get back to the office.”

I hung up, dressed fast in last night’s clothes, and gathered my things. In the elevator down to the lobby it hit me that I had not thought about how to get home. I had been so locked in on pulling off this “chance encounter” with Steve that I had not even brought my car.

The lobby was packed with business people checking out. I was about to call a ride when I saw him. Steve at the reception desk, in a charcoal suit that had to be custom to sit on those shoulders like that. He looked startlingly rested. No sign of the dark circles from last night. The change was sharp, like whatever we did had actually let him sleep.

I watched him sign something at the desk. He stood like the room belonged to him. When he turned, his eyes found mine across the lobby. My heart did an embarrassing skip. His face did not move. He just nodded.

“You can ask the front desk to call you a car,” he said as he walked past me, adjusting his cufflinks. “I’ve got a meeting. I have to run.”

The doorman held the front door open for him. I stood there with anger coming up hot in my chest. That was it? A nod and go ask the desk? “Men are all the same,” I muttered. “Cold and callous.”

Right before he stepped into the black Bentley waiting outside, he looked back. Found me again across the lobby. His mouth curved into this slow, predatory smile that said he knew exactly what game I was running, and he planned to win it. The look was possessive enough that heat hit my face on the spot.