Page 126 of My Ruthless Opponent

I keep watching him until he disappears inside.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “I have to use the bathroom.”

I excuse myself and follow the man whom I’ve started to care for.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The music from the party fades to soft thumping as I stride across the lobby and into the building.

I head upstairs to our suite first. When I find it empty, I call him on his phone. He doesn’t answer.

I reach downstairs and turn to the right wing of the resort.

Quickening my pace, I pass the fitness center. The room is dark, only a few overhead lights are illuminating the equipment. And it is empty.

Where is he? And why isn’t he answering his goddamn phone?

Has he been always like this? Disappearing without a trace when he wanted to be alone?

I know he loves his job and takes it very seriously. But it baffled me to think it would affect him this much.

I jog faster, eyeing all the rooms through the glass wall to check for the signs of him.

I am almost at the end of the hallway when I hear something. I halt then.

Clack!

My head turns to my right and across the hallway toward a door.

Reaching it, I turn the golden knob and push the door open.

Bent over a billiard table with a cue lined up and a cigarette hanging from his lips is none other than Raleigh.

His eyes snap up to me but he doesn’t move. Instead, he strikes. Hitting the white ball with force, sinking two stripes in one go.

Then slowly, he lifts his upper body from the table. He takes a drag, exhaling smoke through his nose.

With blank eyes, he stares at me. The familiar coldness makes me feel unwelcome.

His hair hangs in his eyes but they don’t hide the detachment in their depts.

He doesn’t want me here. It profoundly affects me.

I step inside and shut the door behind me anyway.

The room is bigger as I get the full view. It’s a pool hall judging by the several pool tables across the floor.

The air in here is crisp mixed with the aroma of cigarette smoke.

“What are you doing here?” I fill the silence with my question.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He dismisses my question. The silver smoke fans out from his nostrils and mouth while doing so.

He drops the cigarette and crushes it under his shoe and onto the marble. Moving around the green table, he bends again and lines up his next shot.

It was one of those moments where you feel extremely uncomfortable and awkward because you’re unwanted.

Regardless of him being a brooding jerk, I try again.

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