He removes my card from the machine, then hands it back to me. I slide it in my back pocket.
I see him get a key from a hook on the wall.
He steps out from behind the counter. “This way.”
I reach down to grab my bags, and with much effort, hoist them to my shoulder.
They feel way heavier than they did five minutes ago. Must be knowing I’m one step closer to a bed … one step closer to sleep, that has really set the fatigue in.
“Here let me get those for you,” Tattooed Adonis says, his hand reached out toward me.
Is he being nice to me? Why?
He wasn’t being nice a few minutes ago, and he has barely given me a glance. And in my experience, men are only nice when they want something. I have nothing to give this guy.
Retracting his hand, he scratches his head and frowns at me. “It’s my job to carry your bags. We’re not the kind of establishment that has a bellboy,” he says, then grins. A boyish kind of grin.
Oh, right. Stupid Mia.
I lift the bags from my shoulder and hand them to him. My body sighs in relief. “Thank you.” I smile.
A weird look passes over his face, then he frowns again. Slinging my bags over his shoulder, he strides off down the hall.
Okay, mood swing much? Nice one minute, moody the next. But then, aren’t all men like that? Some more than others.
I’m practically jogging to catch up with him, then Tattooed Adonis comes to an abrupt stop outside a door half-way down the hall. I have to catch myself from running into the back of him. He unlocks the door and goes in the room, turning the light on, and setting my bags on the bed.
I try to step inside the room, but I can’t. My muscles are frozen.
Being out there alone in the reception with him was okay because it’s a public place. But this … I can’t walk into this room alone with him. He could trap me.
The lock clicks.
I turn around.
Oliver is dangling the key from his hand. His belt in the other.
“Time for a lesson, Mia.”
My eyes search tattoo Adonis’ jeans. He’s not wearing a belt.
What difference does that make? He wouldn’t need a belt to hurt me. There are other ways to hurt someone. Many other ways.
Why did he go in the room?
To put your bags in your room. To do his job.
This guy isn’t Oliver or Forbes. He’s just some guy who works at a hotel. He’s not going to hurt me. Not all men all cruel.
I’m safe here. This is a hotel. There are other people staying here.
Actually, come to think of it, I haven’t seen another soul since I arrived. Only him. And there was only one other car parked up outside when I arrived. The Mustang – the penis enhancer – which could be his car.
Oh god, is that his car? Am I alone in this hotel with him?
That’s his car, and I’m alone in this hotel with him.
Chills shiver down my spine. I try to take in a deep breath, but my lungs won’t allow it. Panic is gripping my chest like a vice.
It’s okay, Mia. Calm down. There could be people in the other rooms. It’s evening. They could be settled in for the night. Or out and returning later. Just because there isn’t another car parked outside, doesn’t mean a thing.
Tattooed Adonis turns around. He tilts his head to the side, giving me a questioning look.
Can’t blame him. I am standing in the hall, acting like a complete weirdo, on the verge of a panic attack.
His eyes move down my body. Why is looking at me like that?
All my senses kick into high-alert.
I wrap my arms around my chest and straighten my back, trying to look taller and more confident than I could ever hope to be.
I can take care of myself now. I’m stronger than I used to be. I kneed Forbes in the balls and got away, didn’t I?
Tattooed Adonis walks toward me. My urge to bolt becomes compelling.
I am not weak. I am not weak.
I’m a strong woman.
I force myself to keep steady, and step back to give him space to pass by.
Tattooed Adonis towers over me. I knew he was a lot taller than me—not that it’s hard being that I’m pocket sized—but it’s so much more noticeable now he’s closer to me, and surprisingly, his closeness isn’t freaking me out as much as it should.
“Your key,” he offers.
I take it from him.
“Breakfast is served between seven and eight-thirty,” he states before walking away. Stopping, he adds, “And we don’t do evening meals, but there are plenty of restaurants nearby.”
“Are there any other guests staying here?” I have to ask.
He stops and turns back. “No. Not until next week. Until then, it’s just you and me.”
I’m pretty sure my heart just died in my chest.
Me. Alone. Here.
With him.
No. No. No.
I can’t do that. I am stronger than I was, but that’s pushing myself to far too soon.
“Don’t worry it’s totally safe out here,” he says. I’m guessing it’s the look on utter panic on my face prompting this. “We have a great alarm system, and I have a shotgun. You know, just in case.”
A gun.
God, no.
“What would happen if I pulled this trigger, Mia?”
I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt the cold metal press against my forehead. I could feel my body begin to sweat.
But I held myself together. Made sure not to cry. If I did, it only made him angry.
“I would die, Oliver.”