13: It isn't red

My pulse thundered as I rushed down the staff corridor toward Victoria. Adrenaline throbbed behind my eyes, my mind racing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone. But I saw him. I was sure of it. I would recognize him anywhere.

Marek.

The morning light had caught his scar like an ominous warning, emphasizing that cold, ice-blue stare.

He had been right outside the hotel. Watching. Waiting.

Or… was my mind playing tricks on me? Maybe I was more traumatized by my last encounter with him than I wanted to admit — maybe I was seeing him everywhere.

An unnerving prickle crawled across my skin. What if he was already inside the hotel? I glanced back looking over my shoulder. What if he –

I stumbled into something. No, someone. I was so busy looking for Marek that I paid no attention to where I was walking.

“Hey!” Victoria’s melodic voice snapped me back.

“Oh God – sorry!” I exhaled, clutching my chest.

She arched a brow, smirking. “What’s gotten into you? You look like you’ve seen Derek naked.”

Despite myself, I barked a laugh. “Don’t joke about that. I’ll never sleep again.”

Victoria giggled, looping her arm through mine as we started toward the service elevator.

“Relax, Val. It’s just another day. Rooms, sheets, and Derek being a pain in the ass. Business as usual.”

I nodded, but my heart still hadn’t slowed.

Business as usual.

Today was just like any other day.

But something told me that wasn’t quite true.

Not true at all.

-------------------------------------------------------♥-------------------------------------------------------

The day crawled forward. Slowly. Room after room, bed after bed, the mindless routine offering a thin layer of normalcy. We worked side by side, Victoria chatting non-stop to keep the weight off our shoulders. About her weekend. Her night out, and her latest hook up. About work-gossip.

“Can you believe Sandy painted her nails neon green this week?” she whispered dramatically, tucking towels onto a shelf. “Like we don’t already notice how she holds her hands out whenever Derek walks by.”

I rolled my eyes. “At this point, she might as well put a sign on her forehead: ‘Notice me, Derek.’”

Victoria snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “God, he already does – have you seen the way he acts around her?”

For a while, her chatter was enough to distract me. Enough to pretend I hadn’t seen Marek at the window. Enough to pretend I wasn’t counting the minutes until my shift ended.

“What about you, Val?” Victoria suddenly asked.

“What about me?” I grinned. “You have to be a little more specific.”

She rolled her eyes, smirking. “Your love life, obviously.”

The question caught me off guard, and my throat tightened. For a second too long, I kept folding sheets, trying to piece together an answer, hoping she wouldn’t notice how badly my hands fumbled.

“My love life?” I forced a laugh, shrugging. “What love life? I don’t have time for such things – I’ve been single so long my heart’s officially expired.”

Victoria tilted her head, studying me with a look that made me nervous. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

I busied myself with stacking towels into neat little squares, refusing to meet her eyes. “Seriously. My last relationship was… well, long ago. And let’s just say, it didn’t exactly last.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have a fling,” she teased.

Her words made me think of Santiago – the kiss in the rain, his hands at the restaurant, the red-silken room. Heat rushed to my face, and I instantly dropped my gaze, hoping she wouldn’t notice my blushing cheeks.

“You’re glowing, Val,” she pressed, watching me closely, raising a finger at me. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“It’s just the hotel lights,” I muttered quickly. “They’re brutal.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes, lips twitching with a knowing smile. “You’re hiding something.”

“I’m not,” I said too fast, hugging the stack of towels to my chest like a shield.

“Yes, you are,” she sang, drawing out the words. “And I’m going to find out what.”

Her playful tone didn’t ease the tightness in my chest. I forced a smile, shaking my head, desperate to end the conversation. “Good luck with that, Sherlock. Now are you helping me finish this floor, or am I doing it alone?”

She laughed, finally letting it drop – for now – but her gaze lingered a beat too long, like she’d seen straight through me.

“If you finish the last room on this floor, I’ll get started on the next one. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we’re out of here, and I can treat us to a cup of coffee. My turn to buy.” Victoria winked.

I sighed, wiping my damp forehead with the backside of my hand. “Deal.”

The last room. Room 312. The door was half-open, and the smell of whiskey hit me before I even stepped inside. A man in an expensive suit sat slouched on the edge of the bed, tie loose, eyes glassy. His grin spread wide when he saw me.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” he slurred, pushing himself up unsteadily.

“Sir, I just need to—” I tried to sidestep him, but his hand shot out, clumsy but strong, gripping my arm.

“Don’t be shy.” His breath reeked of alcohol. His other hand reached for my waist, fingers fumbling, hungry.

“Let me go!” I twisted, but his grip tightened.

I tried to shove him away with my free hand, but he was too strong.

“Don’t be like that – I’m a paying customer.” He pushed me against the wall right next to the door, pinning me in place.

Panic spiked – I was all alone on this floor, all the other rooms empty and cleaned. Victoria was already working on clearing the fourth floor. Nobody would hear me.

His fingers, busy feeling me up, greedy, had reached the hem of my dress. His eyes darkened, his smile vicious.

“Stop it!”

Before he could go further, a shadow moved behind him.

Marek.

The drunk barely had time to register him before Marek’s hand snapped around his wrist. A sickening crack split the air. The man screamed.

“Didn’t your mother teach you manners?” Marek growled. “The lady said nie.”

I noticed him using his left hand, his right hand bandaged, barely.

Then, with brutal ease, he drove his forehead into the man’s nose. Blood spurted. Another cry, but muffled.

The drunk stumbled back, clutching his ruined face, before bolting out the door, leaving a trail of blood and curses.

I stood frozen, chest heaving, back pressed to the wall.

Marek turned to me slowly. His ice-blue eyes swept over my uniform, lingering. Hunger flashed in his gaze.

“Well,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “It isn’t red.”

I swallowed, defiance trembling on my lips. “It isn’t Friday either.”

His scar tugged with his grin. “Touché, little lamb.”

Before I could move, his hand clamped around my arm—iron, unyielding.

“Shift over,” his voice sharp and commanding. “Time to clock out.”