Rosália’s chest rose and fell rapidly. Her eyes darkened, mirroring the exact same heavy, consuming desire that was tearing him apart. She leaned in, just a fraction of an inch, caught entirely in his gravitational pull.
But before the distance could close, the harsh, violent buzz of Sean’s cell phone vibrated against the mahogany coffee table.
The spell shattered.
Rosália jerked back, blinking rapidly as if waking from a trance, her cheeks flushing a deep, embarrassed crimson. Shelooked down, nervously clearing her throat. “Do you think... do you think they might have returned to the suites by now?”
Sean reluctantly pulled himself back from the edge, his jaw locked tight in absolute frustration. He picked up his phone. The screen illuminated the dark room, displaying a text message received over an hour ago from the night manager he had heavily compensated to monitor the lower-level hallway.
Sean’s eyes hardened into chips of black ice as he read the screen. “They left the burner room an hour ago. First the man, and then the woman ten minutes later. They’re back in the penthouses.”
Rosália exhaled a shaky breath, the harsh, ugly reality of their situation crashing back down, burying the beautiful moment they had just shared. The light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a terrible, exhausted anxiety. She set her empty wine glass on the table and stood up.
“It’s better if I go back now,” she said softly, wrapping her arms protectively around her waist. “Before he starts tearing the hotel apart looking for me.”
Sean stood up, his massive frame towering over her. Every instinct in his body screamed at him not to let her go. He didn’t want her walking back into a room with a man who had treated her like absolute garbage. He wanted her to stay right here, locked in this sanctuary with him, where he could protect her.
But he was a strategist. He knew that for the next phase of their plan to work flawlessly, she had to return to the scene of the crime.
“Alright,” Sean conceded quietly, walking her out of the media room and to the heavy suite door. He reached out, his warm, calloused hand gently cupping her bare shoulder, his thumb stroking the soft skin just once. “Get some sleep, Rosália. Tomorrow, you will be able to enjoy the day much more after we put the second part of the plan into action.”
A genuine, fierce spark of anticipation lit up Rosália’s eyes, cutting through the anxiety. She smiled, nodding her head. “Goodnight, Sean.”
She turned around, pulling the heavy door open and stepping out into the quiet, heavily carpeted hallway of the penthouse floor. She walked toward the bank of private elevators, pressing the silver button to take her to the opposite wing of the hotel where her suite was located.
Sean stood in the doorway, watching her walk away, refusing to close the door until he knew she was safely in the elevator car.
The silver doors of the elevator slid open with a soft, echoingding.
Rosália stepped forward, a soft, lingering smile still playing on her lips from the night they had shared.
And then, she froze entirely.
Standing directly inside the elevator car, dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a hastily buttoned dress shirt, was David.
He looked incredibly pale, his hair wild and disheveled, a frantic, unhinged look of pure panic stamped across his face.
“Rose!” David gasped, his chest heaving as if he had been sprinting through the labyrinth of the hotel corridors.“Where the hell have you been? I woke up and the bed was empty. I’ve been looking everywhere for—”
David’s frantic words died a sudden, violent death in his throat.
His dark eyes shifted past his wife’s shoulder, looking down the long, empty corridor. His gaze locked directly onto Sean, who was standing casually in the open doorway of the dimly lit extra suite, watching them with absolute, terrifying calm.
The panic on David’s face evaporated in a fraction of a second. The blood rushed violently back into his cheeks, his expression twisting into something ugly, deeply possessive, and entirely murderous.
David lunged forward. He grabbed Rosália’s arm with bruising force, jerking her roughly out of the elevator car and pulling her behind him, his furious eyes never leaving Sean.
“What the fuck,” David snarled, his voice echoing loudly in the dead-quiet hallway, “were you doing in a hotel room with him?”
Chapter 11
David
David lay perfectly still on his back, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. Every muscle in his body was pulled as tight as a bowstring. Beside him, separated by a cold, deliberate expanse of heavy silk sheets, Rosália was facing the window.
He listened to her breathe. He counted the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, waiting in agonizing suspense for the cadence to deepen into the heavy, even pull of genuine sleep. Every time she shifted on the mattress, the rustle of the fabric sent a violent spike of adrenaline straight into David’s bloodstream. He froze, his jaw locked tight, terrified she would turn over and ask why he was still awake.
The silence in the suite was deafening. It felt like a trap.
