He was quiet.
When he didn’t answer my question, I shifted my eyes to him.
“For you.”
I chewed the bite but nearly choked on it when I understood what he meant. That he wanted to see me again. “Um, why?” I blurted like an idiot, not understanding why this man would want to invest more time in me when he’d already gotten laid. He seemed like the kind of guy that didn’t do back-to-backs. I’d expected him to be irritated when I didn’t leave his room as soon as the deed was done.
His eyebrows rose slightly as his stare hardened. “Because I want you.”
I made it back to my hotel room and showered.
The second I was dry and in a change of clothes, I knew I was a different person than I’d been yesterday. A walking zombie of grief and self-deprecation had transformed into ... a fucking butterfly.
A slutty butterfly . . .
I sat in the only chair in the room, a small one that was distinctly unsteady, and once the high of the past twelve hours passed, a slab of guilt crashed into my shoulders.
My two-year relationship had just ended a few days ago, and I’d already jumped into bed with someone else.
And had the time of my life.
It seemed a bit small of me to do something like that, especially when I’d fucked him without protection ... and asked him to come inside me. The guilt intensified, and a part of me felt as if I’d betrayed Enzo.
Or at least spat on the relationship we’d had.
The high I felt from Constantine immediately disappeared. I sat in silence, the old curtains open over the window to let the sunshine in. I should head outside and enjoy my time here, but now I was consumed by the darkness once more.
I was either hurt that Enzo had stopped loving me or ashamed of what I’d done.
There seemed to be no winning. It wasn’t like me to hook up with a stranger in a bar, especially bareback. Not once had I ever done anything like that in my life. They said people did strange things in their grief.
Was this one of those crazy things?
I heard a few motorbikes pass in the street below the room. Heard a car or two, sometimes conversations from the people who passed by. But then I also heard a quiet vibration, one that didn’t come from my phone on the table beside me.
I heard it again. And again.
It was coming from my room.
Then I heard a loud ringing noise—and it was definitely coming from inside my room.
I got to my feet and followed the sound, ending up on my knees on the floor. I approached the bed and lifted the bed skirt to see a bright light on the floor.
It was Enzo’s watch.
He must have enabled the Find My Device feature to locate it. He’d probably been in such a rush when he left that he’d knocked it over and it had been kicked underneath the bed. It was still attached to the charging pad that was plugged into the wall. It had just fallen off the nightstand and landed somewhat behind it.
I took it off the pad and hit the button to make the obnoxious ringing stop.
He must have assumed he’d packed it in his suitcase but couldn’t find it, instead of actually checking its location. He would probably do that next and realize it was here with me.
That was when an idea struck me.
When I’d checked his phone, his messages had been clean. So was his search history. But his watch stored messages on its own. If he didn’t manually delete them from the device, they would still be there.
His watch had a passcode, unlike his phone, and I knew it after watching him enter it enough times, so I was in.
The top message was from Luna—his boss. Nothing suspicious there. I scrolled through the other message boxes to see if there were any names I didn’t recognize. It was just his parents and his friends.
