None of it made sense. Or maybe it did, and I just didn't want to see it yet.
After twenty minutes of getting nowhere, I sat up.
A workout. That's what I needed. Something to clear my head, burn off the restless energy crawling under my skin.
I changed into shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed my water bottle, and headed down to the hotel gym.
The gym was small—a few treadmills, an elliptical, a rack of dumbbells, and a bench press that looked like it hadn't seen serious weight in years.
Good enough.
I started with the treadmill, pushing the pace until my lungs burned and sweat soaked through my shirt. Then I moved to the weights, running through sets with a focus that bordered on obsessive.
Deadlifts. Bench press. Pull-ups on the rickety bar mounted in the corner.
The equipment groaned under the abuse, but I didn't care.
I needed this. Needed the burn, the ache, the way my body screamed at me to stop while my mind finally,finally, went quiet.
By the time I finished, my muscles were trembling, my shirt was plastered to my chest, and I was dripping sweat onto the rubber mat.
I grabbed my water bottle and drained it, then headed for the stairs.
Five flights up. Dripping. Breathing hard.
When I pushed open the stairwell door on my floor, I froze.
Someone was standing at my door.
My hand went instinctively to my hip—no weapon, just habit—and I tensed.
Then I realized who it was.
Amelia.
She was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking like she'd been waiting.
I approached slowly, heart still pounding from the workout—or maybe from seeing her there.
"How'd you know my room number?" I asked.
She smiled faintly. "I have my talents."
I bet she did.
"Good workout?" she asked, eyes flicking over my sweat-soaked shirt, the way my chest was still heaving.
"Yeah," I managed, fumbling for my keycard. "Did the job."
I swiped the card, pushed the door open, and stepped aside to let her in.
She brushed past me, and I caught her scent—something clean and sharp, like citrus and rain—and it hit me harder than the workout had.
Intoxicating.
I closed the door behind us, tossed the keycard onto the desk, and turned to face her.
"Why'd you come up?" I asked.
