Then she pauses.
“Oh. There was a cancellation this morning.”
Kat stiffens slightly beside me.
“The honeymoon suite,” the clerk continues apologetically. “The bride called it off.”
Cupid City wedding called off? Perfect. I don’t hesitate.
“We’ll take it.”
Kat looks at me briefly. She’s not objecting or maybe even surprised. It’s something else in her expression.
The clerk slides a registration card across the counter and I quickly fill it out and hand her my credit card.
“One king suite. Top floor. Congratulations,” she says brightly, clearly assuming things. “Would you like your luggage brought up?”
“It was delayed and missed our flight. The airline will have it delivered later.”
“I’ll make a note of that. Welcome and let us know if you need anything at all,” she replies, handing me back my card.
The elevator ride this time is slower with less stress. Just the sound of cables and faint lobby music drifting upward. When the doors open onto the top floor, the hallway is carpeted in white and gold. Rose petals scattered intentionally along the baseboards.
The suite door clicks open and inside we find wide windows overlooking Cupid City. There’s a king size four-poster bed draped in sheer fabric, along with a champagne bucket still chilling on the side table with two glasses. A card that reads:Forever Starts Today.
The irony almost makes me laugh. Kat steps inside slowly. The door closes behind us with a solid, final sound.
I turn the deadbolt, then the secondary latch. Crossing the room, I close the curtains. The city disappears behind heavy fabric.
Kat stands in the middle of the room, shoulders squared like she’s still expecting an attack.
“You’re safe,” I say quietly.
“For how long?” she asks.
“As long as I’m breathing.”
That’s not bravado or bullshit. I mean it.
“You probably saved my life by coming up to that suite with me,” she says.
“I wasn’t going to let you do that alone.”
She exhales slowly. The adrenaline is draining now. And something else is rising.
We are in a honeymoon suite with no plan beyond survival. And the tension that kept us upright is shifting into something heavier and more personal.
She looks at me like she did on the rooftop … like she’s deciding something.
The room is warm. The bed is waiting. For now, the danger isn’t outside. It’s what happens if we let the walls drop and take this next level.
Chapter 12
Katerina
The door is locked, deadbolted and latched. The curtains are drawn. For the first time in days, I don’t feel watched. I stand in the middle of the suite and simply … stop. The quiet is almost overwhelming.
Sheer fabric drapes from the posts of the absurdly large bed. It’s like something out of a movie. A bottle of champagne waits in a silver ice bucket. Rose petals scatter across the duvet in deliberate romance. It feels unreal.
