Chapter 3 Enemy or foe

Chapter 3

Xavier's POV

The first rule of survival in my world: trust no one.

The second: especially not beautiful women who appear in your bed after you've been drugged.

Weeks later, I sat in my office two floors below the suite, my head still throbbed faintly, a reminder of the poison, or whatever the hell it was, someone had slipped into my drink that night.

The knock came sharply against the door.

"Come in," I called, my voice still hoarse from too little sleep and too much anger.

Ethan Mercer, my head of security, stepped inside. Built like a wall, ex-military, the man didn't waste words or time. He carried a tablet under one arm.

"You have something for me?" I asked.

He nodded once and moved to the edge of my desk, laying the tablet flat. The screen lit up with the grainy footage from the hotel's security feed from that night.

"This is from the club floor," Ethan said. "Timeline starts twenty minutes before you were escorted back to your suite."

I leaned forward, scanning the scene. There I was, at the VIP table, shaking hands with three men in tailored suits. They had approached me earlier under the guise of wanting to discuss a hotel investment.

"Pause," I ordered. Ethan froze the frame.

Even on camera, I could see it, the slight flicker of a smile from the man on my right as I lifted my glass. It was too knowing. Too smug.

"That's when they spiked it," I muttered.

Ethan resumed the video. A few minutes later, I stood, my movements already sluggish, and one of my staff subtly guided me out of frame.

The footage switched to a hallway camera. Two security guards led me toward the private elevator. My stride was uneven. My jaw clenched as I watched, I hated being reminded of weakness.

"Next," I said.

The angle changed again, this time, the corridor outside my suite. A timestamp in the corner read 01:37 AM.

And there she was.

Adrianna. She appeared from the far end of the hall, one hand against the wall as if steadying herself. She was still in that night's dress, hair slightly mussed, her walk hesitant.

Ethan's finger tapped the screen. "That's thirty minutes after you entered your suite. She comes alone."

"Alone?" I repeated, my voice edged with disbelief. "No sign of her with them?"

He shook his head. "I cross checked the club floor footage. She wasn't at their table, didn't speak to them, didn't even cross paths."

I frowned, studying the screen. Adrianna reached my door, hesitated for several seconds, then slipped inside. No one else followed.

"Rewind," I said. Ethan complied. I watched her approach again, frame by frame. Her steps were unsteady, almost clumsy. Not the stride of someone on a mission.

"She looks... off," Ethan commented, his tone carefully neutral. "Eyes a little unfocused. Could be drunk. Could be something else."

I leaned back in my chair, my gaze narrowing. "She said her sister gave her a drink."

"And do you believe that?"

My first instinct was to say no. Women like her didn't just stumble into situations, they were placed there. I had been in enough power games to know the tactic: tempt the mark when he's most vulnerable, then collect the fallout.

But there was something about the footage that didn't match the script.

Ethan switched to another angle, the one inside the suite's living area. The camera caught her stepping in, glancing around like she didn't recognize where she was. She clutched her bag tightly, shoulders drawn in.

"You see that?" Ethan said. "She's not scanning the room for cameras, she's not looking for valuables. She's... lost."

I didn't answer immediately.

Instead, I watched the moment she disappeared toward the bedroom, towards me.

Ethan cleared his throat. "We've already ID'd the three men from the club. Two have criminal records for fraud and extortion. One's clean on paper, but I'll bet my pension he's dirtier than both. Adrianna..." He tapped another file on the tablet. "She's clean. No priors, no debt flags, no history with any of the men involved."

"That proves nothing," I said, though my voice lacked its earlier conviction. "She could still be working for someone."

"She could," Ethan agreed. "But so far, there's nothing tying her to that night except being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I stared at the paused frame of her on the screen, frozen mid-step, hair falling into her face, one hand brushing the doorframe like she was steadying herself.

I remembered the way she looked at me the following morning. Wide eyed. Defiant. And something else I tried to ignore, confused.

"Sir," Ethan said, breaking my thoughts, "if she was part of the plan, she's either the best actress I've ever seen... or she's telling the truth."

I didn't answer.

Because since I had woken up with her in my bed, I wasn't entirely sure which it was.

***

I didn't take my eyes off the frozen frame of her on the screen. In my world, innocence was a myth. Everyone wanted something.

And I had seen this play before... different actors, same ending.

"Ethan," I said, leaning back in my chair, "this wouldn't be the first time someone's tried to get to me in a bed instead of a boardroom."

His brow lifted slightly.

I went on, my voice low. "Five years ago, it was a call girl with a hidden camera. Two years after that, a journalist pretending to be a PR consultant. Both walked in smiling. Both walked out thinking they'd won."

"They didn't," Ethan said, more statement than question.

"They didn't." My tone was flat steel. "One lost her job. The other... doesn't write anymore."

Ethan didn't flinch. He has heard worse from me.

The truth was, enemies came in every form, rival hotel chains, politicians I wouldn't bribe, even disgruntled ex-associates who thought they could bury me with scandal. They had all tried. And they had all learned the same lesson: Xavier Palmer doesn't break.

But still...

I tapped a knuckle against the desk, my gaze cutting back to Adrianna's still frame. "This one is different. Either she's the most convincing plant I've seen, or she's just collateral damage. I'm not gambling on either possibility."

Ethan straightened. "What do you want done?"

"Everything," I said. "I want every piece of her life on my desk, where she grew up, who she talks to, where she's worked, who she's dated. Bank accounts. Travel history. The last coffee shop she set foot in, if you can find it."

"You think she's connected to the three men?"

"I think..." I exhaled slowly, "...if she isn't, then someone went to a lot of trouble to make her look like she is. Which means either she's a pawn... or she's bait."

Ethan nodded once. "Understood."

"Also," I added, my tone sharpening, "find out everything about this sister she mentioned. Amelia. If Adrianna's telling the truth, Amelia handed her the drink. That's not a coincidence."

"Already working on it."

"Good." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. "And Ethan?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Discretion. I don't want this hitting the press. If anyone finds out I was drugged in my own club, it's an open invitation for every vulture in this city to circle."

"You'll have what you need by tonight."

I gave him a brief nod. "Go."

He left without another word, the door shutting softly behind him.

The club was supposed to be my territory. Instead, I had woken up in my own suite with a stranger in my bed and a drug burning through my veins.

It wasn't just an attack. It was a message.

By the time the sky began to darken, I had gone over the footage three more times, looking for details Ethan might have missed, a shadow in the corner, a face that lingered too long, a handoff that looked casual until you slowed it down. Nothing linked her directly to the men who had spiked my drink.

That irritated me more than finding proof would have.

She was still an unknown. And I hated unknowns.

At precisely nine o'clock, a sharp knock broke my thoughts.

"Enter," I called.

Ethan stepped inside, holding a slim black file. His expression was unreadable, but I worked with him long enough to recognize the shift in his posture, a slight stiffness that meant he had found something worth my attention.

He crossed the room and placed the file on my desk.

"Sir..." His voice was quieter than usual. "You'll want to see this."