Page 5 of Tastes Like Misery

Vivian

Everything hurt when I woke up, despite sleeping in the comfiest bed I’d ever slept in. I stretched, not wanting to move from the cloud underneath me, and inhaled the scent of the delicious man who fucked me until the sun came up.

My eyes popped open when I realized I’d let my guard down and didn’t leave while he was out. Slowly, I turned my head to look at his side of the bed, hoping like hell he was still passed out from the amazing workout we’d shared.

“Fuck,” I hissed when I found the bed empty. Straining, I listened for any sound to indicate he was around and was met with silence. There went my payday, and I’d be screwed tomorrow when the landlord came calling for my rent.

“Screw that,” I muttered as I slid out of the bed, the crinkle of paper catching my attention. Looking down, I saw a folded piece of paper had been laid on the bed next to me with my name scrawled across it. I didn’t need to read it. Nope, I needed to get my dress, clean myself up, and hope like hell I could swipe some cash from the customers at the bar I worked at.

Maybe I could grab some decorations from the penthouse, too. Everything looked expensive and something had to be worth money. It was the penthouse, and I assumed everything was authentic and expensive.

Picking up my discarded garter, stockings, and heels, I looped them on my fingers, not wanting to make any noise. My bare feet padded on the cold marble floor and I peeked out from behind the open bedroom doors to make sure Dane wasn’t hanging around somewhere in the gigantic suites. One could never be too careful.

Relief hit me when I found it empty, my dress still beneath the ornate dining table where I’d discarded it. I swiped it from its place and walked around, eyeing the vases and gaudy decor. I didn’t think any of it was valuable to anyone other than the rich people who could afford to stay in this place. Certainly nothing my pawn guy would take. “Damn it.”

Freezing in place when I heard the door handle jiggle, my heart pounded in my chest. Someone was coming in and since Dane left me a note, I doubted it was him. My eyes darted around, looking for somewhere to hide, and my feet took me back to the bedroom without thinking.

I made it just in time, the voices loud as they spoke. A male voice with a British accent said, “I don’t see anyone here, but someone has been using this room. Search it.”

Another voice said, “Yes, sir,” and the clack of their dress shoes moved around the opposite side of where I hid.

“What is this?” the British guy asked.

“It looks like bodily fluids, sir,” a mousy sounding woman responded with hesitation in her voice. “I’ll get my gloves and clean it right away.”

“No,” the British guy said. “The police will want to see it if I need to call them in. I’ll decide once I see how much damage is done.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not the police! I couldn’t get busted here. That mother fucker, Dane, left me to face this and if I ever saw him again, I’d punch him right in the balls. My eyes widened as I realized he’d left a note with my name on it, my real name. It was only my first name, but as much as I hung around this area, the cops would put it together, eventually.

Listening intently, I put my clothes in my mouth and crawled to the bed. If anyone came in, at least I’d have a chance to hide under it. I almost snorted at the thought since the first place anyone looked was under the bed. Reaching my hand up, I slid it across the sheets, searching for the elusive note. I should have taken it in the first place. Hell, maybe there was a warning this would happen and to get out. But if the fucker knew before he left, why didn’t he wake me up and tell me?

Finally, I felt it and slid it back to me, shoving it inside my heels. I wanted to sit and cry, wait for them to get me because there wasn’t anywhere for me to hide. My legs were too long to fit in the dresser drawers, no matter how huge they were. The wardrobe was out since they’d open it.

No, I wasn’t giving up. I crawled my naked ass back to the door and peeked out. The man dressed in what looked like an expensive suit had his back turned, looking at the couch where I knew I left a big puddle. Despite my predicament, heat pooled between my legs at the memory of being fucked so damn good on that couch.

A short woman in a maid uniform stood beside him, shaking her head, “That needs to be steam cleaned. You’ll have to call the maintenance man. I can’t clean it without ruining the fabric.”

The British man took it in stride, seemingly unbothered by her words. “We have no guests expected until tomorrow. Hopefully, this mess will be settled by then.”

I looked longingly at the exit, hanging wide open, knowing I couldn’t make it there without being caught immediately. I took a calming breath, the panic subsiding and my brain fog lifting. The answer came to me, but first I needed to open the note from Dane.

It almost made me snort, the hundred-dollar bills hidden inside. To think I’d almost left it there. I should have been insulted by him treating me like a prostitute, but I wasn’t too proud to not take the money. I rolled the bills up and shoved it in the toe of my shoe before making my way back to the bed. Silently setting my things on the floor, I spread them out as if they were tossed there before setting the note on the nightstand and climbing into the bed.

It wouldn’t be long before they came in and I’d give those men something to trip them up, not bothering to cover myself at all. Closing my eyes, I slowed my breathing and waited for them to come.

It didn’t take long before those dress shoes clacked to the master bedroom. I didn’t flinch as I my ears followed the sound of their footsteps. When they reached to the side of the bed, I heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by an uncomfortable, loud voice, “Sir, there’s a woman here. A naked, sleeping woman.”

Quick steps and then a poke in my arm, I slowly opened my eyes and blinked, looking up at the man I knew was the one in charge. His eyes were glued to mine, and he shifted uncomfortably, “Miss, may I ask what you’re doing in the penthouse of my hotel.” It wasn’t a question; it was a polite demand. These posh fuckers had no balls, and I’d use it to my advantage.

“I…” my voice confused and groggy before I made a show of looking to the other side of the bed. “Where’s Dane? What’s going on here?”

“Would you like me to call the police in, sir?” a security guard asked, a little too excitedly. That fucker was trigger-happy, and he’d be the first one I’d kick in the balls before trying to make an escape if it came down to it.

The British guy’s jaw ticked, the only indication he was irritated as his smooth voice responded, “No.” Then he turned to me, his tone sharp but at least kinder than he was to his employee, “I have no record of a Mr. Dane checking into this room. If you could please cover up, we can discuss how you came to be alone in my hotel’s most exclusive quarters.”

I forced the tears to come to my eyes, one perfect drop rolling down my cheek, as I sniffled, “You see, my fiancé broke up with me a week before the wedding. My friends insisted we go on a vacation to a good southern state so I could forget about that jerk. I guess they didn’t want me to be near home on the day we were supposed to exchange vows, which would have been yesterday. We’ve been here a few days, and they all ran off on me for men they met. Can you believe it? They were supposed to be here for me.”

I all out whined the last part, pulling up my fake tears and sobbing. A cloth handkerchief was waved in front of my face and I took it, blowing my nose hard into it. I could see the British guy stiffen, but he was pretty damn good at hiding his disgust.

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