Page 23 of Valentine's Miracle

The arm around me tightens, and heat melts on my back, but it’s a warmth that makes my bones melt in coziness. I don’t remember Sebastian being this comfortable to sleep next to, that man fights in his sleep, and I would get a bruise or two on me that wasn’t there before.

He tried to change by tying himself with rope, and it was a disastrous moment when he woke up as he had almost strangled himself. Another suggestion was to have him sleep in my guest room, but there was nothing better than childhood traditions of sleepovers.

A twenty-three-year-old child is what he is. Without him, I would not have sleepovers. For one, my neighbors talk and gossip, and before I would know it, I’d be known as that one lonely lady with a cheating husband always on traveling schedule.

Groaning, I slowly slip away from the crushing hold around my waist. It was a good night's sleep, a lot better than on my first day at the hotel. I never sleep well in hotels, but this one night is worth it.

It just could be the presence of someone I know in the same bed proves to be an effective layer of protection that allows my body to relax.

I have no doubt that Silas can protect me from the other bed, but something about physical touches does wonders.

I roll my neck and sigh, making my way to the bathroom to get ready. I narrow my eyes at the set of clothing on the hanging rack just above the white fluffy towels. It’s black and white, but a hanging black stocking is definitely not Fyodor’s.

I take it down, looking it over with a note attached on the top and it reads that this is a gift from Fyodor, and in the end, it says that he doesn’t want me to walk around naked. I wish I can stuff this note down his throat.

I’ll wear yesterday’s clothes if I have to and I can go to my room to change out of the shirt that Fyodor let me borrow as a nightshirt. It’s wrinkled, and I would have felt sorry for it, but after this note, all of that compassion runs out of me just like the water swirling down the sink.

He can have this shirt dry cleaned on his own time.

I finish everything in record time to not make too much noise to wake up three grown men. My feet clad in stockings are slippery on the carpeted floor as I make way to the desk without looking at my surroundings.

Maybe I should wake them up, but I have some documents that I need to finish going over for Fyodor. In order to do that, I need lights, and I don’t know what time it is since none of them wants to wake up.

I take the files and slip on my heels, looking over my shoulders to gauge their movements on the bed. My heart nearly explodes in turmoil and absolute chaos.

On the empty side of my bed sleeps Silas rather than Sebastian like I had thought. He is the one in my bed, arm around me and breathing down my neck the whole night. My cheeks burn with a wild tempo of my blood coursing through me as heat flashes under my skin.

I blink, jerking my head to the side as joy skips with the beat of my heart.

Silas could have slept on the chair or even on the floor, but he chose to sleep in the same bed as me regardless of how much he loathes me. That man tends to avoid me like the plague, and after that devastating day at the lunch spot, he made it clear that he hates me.

It hurt then, and it hurts now when I hear the echo of his words.

I swallow the dryness in my throat, blink away the rim of itchiness in my eyes, and sniff away the stuffiness in my nose.

This means nothing. Silas sleeping next to me when he has other options doesn’t mean a thing. It’s convenience, and frankly, it’s miserable knowing that I was the last resort. I don’t know why Sebastian and he had come to Fyodor’s room, but I can hazard a guess that Sebastian’s smitten heart wants to be close to Fyodor.

It’s strange thinking about my childhood friend and my college best friend getting together. I know both of their gross habits and lifestyle full of women, but they seem much more settled down in each other’s presence.

The Sebastian that I know would launch himself at Fyodor and try to charm him, and Fyodor would have thickened his Russian accent along with extravagant gifts. Neither has done that; it’s almost as if they’re shy, but that’s just ludicrous.

Narcissism comes with confidence.

Convincing myself is surprisingly easy, and maybe I have been rejecting the notion of Silas actually wanting to be with me for so long that it’s almost the truth.

It could be, but I wouldn’t know. I don’t know anything right now, and it’s too early in the morning to be thinking about something this deep.

I leave the room with my key card and ride down the elevator. It smells of cleaning disinfectant and a slight tinge of orange. I thought lemon would be a natural choice, but this hotel is known to stand out from others.

The room speaks of how Sebastian and Silas had treated it. One side, mine for the record, is ruffled with clear signs that Sebastian had been rolling in it. Silas’ side has a small mark of what could be a butt imprint, but nothing else is out of place.

I sit on the bed, call room service for one person in my room while making sure that the men five floors above me get their breakfast half an hour after me. They need to sleep. Sebastian and Silas’ work put more physical strain on their bodies while Fyodor has trouble sleeping without waking up at night.

Not ten minutes after, loud banging on the door shakes me out of my thoughts and the words on the document blur. I toss the papers and the folder on the desk, stumbling over my heels and making to the door after another series of knocks.

“W-what—” I swing the door open without looking at who is trying to break down the door.

The massive frame of Silas stands there with a pair of furious green eyes and a head of tousled dark hair. I instinctively walk back a step, and he closes the distance, steps heavy and a scowl on his face as if I had done something wrong.

---