Page 15 of In Bed with the Enemy

"Are you okay?" he asked me, the words sounding genuine.

"Ethan!"

"Come on!"

"Let's go, Ethan!"

Several voices rang out over the din of the lobby. We both turned to look and saw a crowd of about fifteen people all waving at him.

"Come on, Ethan!" one of the leggy blondes in a skin tight dress entirely inappropriate for Chicago in the winter shouted at him in a flirty voice.

"Fine. Looks like your friends are waiting for you," I said to him, moving my shoulder back from his touch.

He hesitated for a moment, but the shouts of the people from the other side of the lobby increased and he turned away from me without saying anything else.

I waited for him to leave, watching his retreating form climb into a limo outside from the corner of my vision. When he was finally gone, I steadied myself, dinner and wine in hand, and made the slow trip back to my hotel room, alone.

11

AMY

"Tell us about this snowstorm, Jim," the newscaster said to the weatherman. I paused on the channel to listen to the weather report and the possible snowstorm that was actively making its appearance on the Chicago streets.

I stood up steadily, the wine having finally worn off after eating my relatively heavy dinner of carbohydrates and cheese. I opened the curtain and saw the first of a few snowflakes beginning to fall.

"Well, you see this low pressure system right here is the issue," the weatherman explained in the background. I sighed. This was not a good thing. The conference was ending with an informal breakfast the next morning and everyone, including me, was scheduled to fly back to their respective parts of the country. If the snowstorm went the way the weatherman was suggesting, it was going to cause major problems.

A loud knock on my door startled me and I jumped. I furrowed my brow and looked at the clock. It was one in the morning. Who on earth would be knocking on my door at this hour?

I tightened the hotel robe I was wearing and made my way over to the door, staring through the peephole. "Come on, Amy, open up!" the slurred speech echoed from the other side. I caught sight of just who was on the other side and my heart raced as I leaned against the door for support.

Another three knocks, but this time I could feel them reverberate through my entire body.

"I want to talk to you," Ethan Greene said, his words slurred but sincere. "Don't try and pretend you're sleeping, I can feel you on the other side of this door," he said and my eyes widened.

Not knowing what else to really do, and hating the fact that even after everything, I still wanted to see him, I turned and opened the door up slowly.

"Fuck, that actually worked," Ethan said with a chuckle and a devastating smile. "I was totally bluffing."

I moved to close the door, but his strong palm on the other side stopped me. "Invite me in," he said, his speech heavy with sleep and alcohol.

"I think you should go back to your room," I said quietly.

"No!" he said, pressing his fist to the door. "I want to talk to you. I want to tell you things. Things that I can only tell you."

I scrunched my eyes closed as I listened to what he was saying. What the hell was this man doing to me? And why was I letting him do it to me?

My hands moved without my brain's permission. I stopped pushing against the door, letting him walk through, and closed it behind me. He sauntered into the room, clearly a level of drunk above what even I had been earlier that evening. I stayed with my back pressed against the cool metal of the door, trying to calm myself down. Today had been a rollercoaster of emotions for me. And Ethan Greene showing up to my hotel room completely drunk was the hundred foot drop I'd been dreading.

"Amy?" his voice called out from the other side of the room. I gulped and took careful steps in his direction. The television and the muted light from the window were the only things to brighten the room. Ethan was laid out on the second queen bed, his arms spread above his head, his breathing somewhat heavy.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

He shook his head but didn't move.

"No," he replied.

"Do you need me to call a doctor?" I asked, sitting down on my own bed across from him.

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