Chapter 03: The Cheating Scumbag

"Ow..."

A low groan escaped Elara’s lips the exact second her eyes blinked open.

The first thing she noticed was the blinding morning sunlight piercing straight through the massive, floor-to-ceiling windows.

The second thing she noticed was the room. It was an absolutely massive luxury hotel suite, but it looked like a small hurricane had passed through it.

A heavy charcoal-grey suit jacket was tossed carelessly over a velvet armchair. A silk tie hung off the lampshade.

Her own black dress was a crumpled heap on the floor, and her black-framed glasses were sitting dangerously close to the edge of the nightstand.

Elara stared at the ceiling as the hazy memories of the previous night came rushing back like a high-speed train.

The bar. Daniel the bartender. The "library book" insult.

And then... 'him.'

She gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth to stop herself from screaming out loud.

'Oh my god. I actually did it.'

Her face instantly exploded into a furious, burning blush. She vividly remembered the feeling of a strong, unyielding arm wrapped tightly around her waist, locking her in place.

The memories were blurry around the edges, thanks to the five glasses of imported wine, but she hadn't been 'that' drunk. She could still clearly picture his intense grey eyes darkening right before he kissed her back.

Damn it. She had actually gone and slept with a complete stranger. And to make matters worse, he was entirely, 100 percent her exact type.

Did she regret it?

Dream on. She didn’t regret it at all. Her ex-boyfriend could go to hell.

"But seriously... 'ow'," she muttered, attempting to shift her weight under the silk sheets.

Her entire body ached. Every single muscle, from her lower back down to her legs, felt like it had been run over by a semi-truck. It had been her very first time, and frankly, that man had been an absolute beast.

He certainly hadn't handled her like a fragile library book.

Blushing furiously at her own thoughts, Elara rolled over to look at the other side of the bed.

It was completely empty.

The sheets were cold.

She frowned, her enthusiastic mood immediately taking a sharp nosedive. She sat up, holding the blanket to her chest, and scanned the massive suite. "Hello?"

Silence answered her.

She looked everywhere… the open bathroom door, the small sitting area, the entryway. There was no sign of him. Her face fell completely.

Had he already left? Just like that? Without even saying goodbye?

A heavy wave of disappointment settled in her stomach.

She scanned the nightstand, hoping to find a neatly written note, a phone number, or maybe even a business card. Nothing. He hadn't left a single message behind.

"Wow," she whispered to herself, kicking the blanket off in frustration.

"Not even a 'have a nice life' note?"

She was deeply disappointed, but she quickly shook her head, forcing herself to snap out of it. She slapped her own cheeks with both hands to wake herself up.

'Come on, Elara. What did you expect?' she chided herself.

'You literally handed him a legal waiver saying you wouldn't hold him responsible! It was a one-night stand. You asked for this.'

She shouldn't dwell on it. It was just a mutual, alcohol-fuelled rebound night.

There was absolutely no chance they would ever cross paths again in a city this size. He was a wealthy stranger in a fancy suit, and she was just an unemployed girl.

"Forget it. It's fine. I'm fine," she grumbled aloud, ignoring the sharp ache in her thighs as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

She couldn't afford to lounge around a stranger's expensive hotel room all day feeling sorry for herself.

Hobbling slightly, Elara picked up her glasses, slid them onto her face, and gathered her wrinkled clothes.

She marched straight into the bathroom to freshen up, determined to wash away the scent of expensive cologne, wine, and poor decisions.

She needed to get dressed, slip out of this hotel, and pretend last night never happened.

***

The moment Elara stepped off the elevator and reached her apartment door, her brow furrowed.

Her building was old, shabby, and located in a loud, cramped part of the city.

Her actual apartment wasn’t much better…just a small living room, a tiny kitchen, one bathroom, and a single bedroom.

She dug into her handbag, her aching body practically begging for her mattress, and pulled out her keys.

Then, she suddenly froze.

The door was already unlatched, resting a fraction of an inch open.

Her eyes instantly narrowed, the exhaustion vanishing as adrenaline spiked through her veins. 'A thief? In broad daylight?'

"Damn it!" she whispered, her teeth gritting.

She didn't have much, but she had worked way too hard for her meagre belongings to let some burglar walk off with them.

Stepping softly, she reached down and grabbed the thick, heavy wooden broom handle she kept leaning besides the door frame for emergency repairs.

Holding it tightly with both hands like a baseball bat, she slowly, silently nudged the door open and stepped inside.

The apartment was dead silent.

Then... the distinct 'creak' of a floorboard echoed from her bedroom.

'They’re actually still inside!'

Without another thought, fueled by a terrible hangover, a sore body, and a massive amount of pent-up rage from the past twenty-four hours, Elara rushed forward.

The bedroom door swung open.

Elara raised the wooden stick and swung it with every ounce of strength she possessed. "Die, you bastard!"

'Thwack!'

A large, calloused hand suddenly shot out and caught the wooden stick in midair, stopping it inches from its target.

"Whoa, easy, babe! What the hell are you doing?!"

Elara’s eyes widened as the dust settled. She blinked through her oversized glasses, her jaw dropping.

"You!" she breathed, her voice dropping into a dangerous tone. "What the fuck are you doing in my apartment, you cheating scumbag?"

The man standing before her stiffened, dropping his hand from the stick.

It was her ex-boyfriend, Brandon. He was dressed in a casual button-down, looking entirely too comfortable in the space he had been evicted from just two days ago.

He forced an awkward, boyish smile, the exact one he always used when he wanted something. "Elara... come on. You’re still angry?"

"Am I still angry?" Elara mocked, her voice rising an octave.

"Gee, let me think. I caught you in our bed with another woman, so yeah, Brandon, I'm a little peachy!"

"You have to understand," Brandon said, taking a step forward with his hands raised defensively.

"There is absolutely nothing between me and Chloe. It was a mistake."