Page 106 of David's Proposal

The woman looks at me.

“Cash or credit?”

“Um. I can pay with my phone.”

“Credit,” she murmurs.

I pay for the room and moments later, I have the key and she shows me to my room.

“You have everything inside,” the woman says in front of my room before turning around and leaving.

I push the door open and enter a small clean room with a large bed, an armchair that looks uncomfortable, and a dresser.

The space opens into a small bathroom with a shower stall, a toilet and a sink. A new robe, slippers, towels, and a few bottles of water come with the room.

This is hardly fancy.

And now what?

I go to the window and look outside. There is nothing to see. No cars moving down the road. No people.

It’s spooky at best and frightening at worst.

I don’t feel like undressing or taking a shower, although the bed looks kind of nice.

I check my phone. I wish I had a charger. It’s not like my battery doesn’t have enough juice left, but it would be nice to get back home in the morning.

Funny thing, though––I ponder, sliding into the pile of pillows and propping the back of my head against the headboard––I had a lot of trust in this man if he got me here in the middle of the night.

Would I have done this in the beginning when I knew nothing about him?

Definitely not.

Can he still disappoint me?

Absolutely yes.

A few more moments pass, and I start to feel tired when the noise of a car engine travels through the air.

My eyes snap open, and I quickly push upright and slide off the bed.

A few strides bring me to the window.

It’s foggy outside, which makes the whole thing even more sinister.

The driver just turned off the lights, and I have this feeling that I’m being watched. I pull back and turn one of the lamps off before surveilling the street from the shadow.

The car is black and resembles none of David’s rides. It’s not expensive and doesn’t stand out in any way.

A dark silhouette pushes out of the driver’s seat, and I instantly recognize him.

It’s how he buttons his suit jacket and runs his fingers through his hair. He may be trying to keep a low profile, but he hasn’t ditched his sharp looking clothes.

It may sound crazy, but the sight of him turns me on.

And as much as I’d like to find a resemblance to the scene I read in Rain’s book, this is nothing like that.

It’s us.

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