Page 143 of Strange Seduction
“Margaret, it’s me. Theo Clayton. How is she?” I asked, barely letting her finish.
There was a pause on her end. “I’m sorry, Mr. Clayton. She turned down the massage.”
Figures.
“Never mind that,” I said quickly. “Has she left the room?”
“Not yet,” Margaret replied. “But I’m expecting her down soon. She’s checking out today, right?”
I froze. “I’m sorry—what?”
“Yes, Mrs. Clayton requested luggage assistance and transportation to the airport. Is that correct?”
What the hell was she thinking, and where the fuck did she think she was going?
“No, Margaret,” I said firmly. “That is not correct. Cancel both immediately.”
“Oh. Um—okay. Right away, sir.”
“I’ll be returning shortly. Please have a new key to her room printed for me.”
“Of course, Mr. Clayton,” she said, her tone careful now. “And sir? A bank card was delivered to us for you. We have it held here at the front desk awaiting a signature.”
“Thanks, Margaret. I’ll sign for it when I get there.”
I ended the call, and just as I did, my mother rang me.
Fuck man, enough was enough.
I denied it, turned my phone off, and dropped it into my pocket. The following two days were to focus on Carmen because that was the only relationship I cared about fixing right now.
?????
Carmen’s suite was spotless.
The only sign someone had even been here was the neatly stacked luggage by the door. Outside the bedroom, the small en-suite kitchen bore the untouched remains of the breakfast I’d ordered—still-covered trays, wilting peonies, unopened champagne, and dark chocolate strawberries melting.
So stubborn.
I drifted toward the bedroom door and nudged it open.
Like the rest of the suite, it was clean. The only signs of life were the faint ruffles on the bed, suggesting she’d slept on top of the sheets. If she slept at all. I know I didn’t.
Margaret had been right—the room really did have an amazing view. But my eyes weren’t on the skyline. They drifted to the couch by the window.
Her outfit for today was laid out: cotton underwear, a plain t-shirt, sweats, socks, and sneakers. Next to them was her dress from the ball, carefully draped over the arm of the chair. I picked it up and held it close, inhaling the soft, lingering scent of her perfume.
It still smelled like her—unforgettable.
I was lost in it, so lost I didn’t even hear the water shut off.
What I did hear was her scream.
“Ah! How the fuck did you get in here?”
I turned, startled.
She stood dripping in the doorway, wrapped in a towel, skin flushed from the heat of the shower, water clinging to her legs.
