Chapter 3 Laurel

The kiss is static, yet deep. It's like my spirit, body, and soul are all trapped inside his mouth as I cannot think of or feel any other thing except his mushy lips against mine.

He snaps contact with finesse – creating a hunger for his warmth – giving room for my breath to flood in in a mild shaky gasp.

"Feel better?" he asks sultrily, wafting his hot breath through my nostrils.

"Wh-wh-wh-why why wou-wou-" I attempt to protest but my brain is pretty much a mesh of nonsense right now, pushing the words through my lips as a load of twaddle. "You – "

"C'mon, beautiful. The night's pretty short." It feels like a trailer-load of magma is pumped onto my cheeks when his hazel eyes pierce into mine, dark and seductive. His last words do the magic, passing a ton of evil signals through these orbs and leaving me at the mercy of my imagination that's running amuck already.

I swing my eyes away. If I should stand a chance at catching my breath at least, I need to stay clear of his eyes. But I am not even two paces closer to it when he grabs my right hand, spiking my pulse through unhealthy levels. The first few steps I take as he begins to lead us away are certainly robotic. I only manage a fraction of control when I almost trip on my heels. Our movements are mismatched because while he's trotting toward the door, I'm 'unknowingly' lurching, producing hasty and irregular clacks as a result.

We get to the elevator and it's almost as if I can hardly breathe being in such an enclosed space alone with him. It is now a conscious effort as I have to knowingly pause and 'heave' my lungs to take in air.

He takes out his phone and dials a number – which is the least of my concerns – before pasting the speaker to his ears. "The video quality was good, yeah?" he asks and goes mute, waiting for a response perhaps. "Have Levi wrap things up neatly. We'll be in my suite." He hangs up and his hand falls back down. I flinch an inch in response, ON EDGE.

The blinking arrow on the elevator screen gets to '30' and the doors slide open, paving the way to a lonely tranquil hallway. Until our footfalls ruin everything.

We get to the other end where an 'L-turn' awaits us, followed by another hallway and two ladies in maidservant outfits who emerge to greet us.

"Is my room ready?" Ivan questions somberly, walking past them who line up by the side with their heads buried as they trot actively to keep up.

"Yes, Sir." One holds out a metallic tray with a black access card on it which he picks up.

"You may leave" is all he says and they scram out of sight.

We get to another black automatic door where he uses the card to gain access through. Beyond it are two wooden gigantic double doors I want to believe are the LAST. He tilts the doorknob open, and the creak that follows is thick with suspense. This scene could easily serve as a cliffhanger in suspenseful movies.

We walk through to the other side where I'm ushered into a living room screaming glamor in my face. The roof is high, hanging three flashy crystal chandeliers over our heads. My jaw sags and I am in awe of just how much sits in his account. Whatever amount it is, it sure is bloating because what the actual hell? It feels like this room alone is enough to give this hotel a five-star rating. And going on to the other numerous rooms in this building, a ten-star rating is sure to be introduced into the system.

"Are we spending the night here?" I ask. There's a silent 'alone?' that's left hopping around the tip of my tongue. But it doesn't see the light of day.

"Nah," he responds and the next second, I feel his sturdy presence directly against my back. "There's a bedroom over there." He extends his hand past my face, pointing at a door. He's clearly teasing me because I already know a conglomerate owner cannot have a suite as jaw-dropping as this without actual bedrooms. The thought of sleeping together just has dread churning deep in my stomach. He's being too comfortable and it's beginning to creep me out.

Though my brain is divided. One part is enjoying all of this, while the other keeps it logical, sending warning signals through to me.

"I told you to loosen up, beautiful." My squeal overshadows his deep voice when my legs suddenly float off the ground, and now I'm suspended in his arms. I pinch his right shoulder to regain my balance, roving my eyes away abashedly.

He leads me through the 'mystery' door, into the bedroom. It's almost as spacious as the living room and doesn't lag in elegance. The king-sized bed is perfectly dressed with a black duvet cover that matches the vibe of the crafted design on the headboard. Even the pattern etched on the wood blares elegance.

The view is replaced with that of white back pillows on a sofa across from me while he places me frailly on another. My butt sinks in, agreeing with its refined quality.

Ivan sits on the center table in front of me and unexpectedly bends, hands charging toward my foot.

"What are you doing?" I ask with burning cheeks. He pulls my leg back in place when I try to jolt it away and holds it still. He unties the strap and it feels like my leg can finally breathe as the muscles around it relax. He picks up my feet so delicately and uses his thumb to massage the sole. His fingertips are icy, soothing to my sore foot. He looks nothing like the rumors I've heard and I cannot help but wonder if this is how it feels to be married to the love of your life.

But I don't love him. And from the best of my knowledge, he doesn't either. I mean, we're only meeting each other for the first time today.

Or is it love at first sight?

'As if.'

My logical side then retreats, letting me relish the relief I feel after he's been on the foot massage for seconds now. I flex my toes, wiggling the strap marks left around it. Feels good to finally be free.

"Your bath should be ready by now," he drawls, staring deep into my leg like he's searching for something. "I'm willing to spare you the night." Raising his eyes to mine, he winks with the same teasing look he's had on all along.

I toss my face away to hide my crimson cheeks but it's already busted. I hear a huff afterward but do not bother looking his way.

He does the same with the other leg and stands.

Is he leaving?

'You want him to stay?'

"I have some things to attend to. But if you need me, I'll be one call away." Coincidentally, my eyes stretch to the telephone by the bed, on a black wooden side stool. Do I have to dial his number with that? "You don't need to dial any number," he mentions, noting what has got my attention hooked. "Just press the red button on it and I'll come right away."

I don't say anything, intentionally avoiding direct eye contact. What was all that talk about the night being too short?

'You ARE smitten, Laurel.'

Who in my shoes WOULDN'T be?

"I figured I should just let you be for tonight. Or would you rather I stay and do the needful?" I pucker my lower lip in an immature protest. I certainly would not be feeling disappointed because he wants to leave if the spell he cast earlier wasn't a thing. I'll leave all the regret I am bound to feel for when I've broken free.

I subconsciously tilt my face back to him only to find him taking out his suit jacket. He places it above my bare knees and bends at his waist with his left palm clung to the backrest to support him, bringing our faces closer. "So you don't get too cold without me," he says in a husky tone, turning my heart into a jelly. I curl my toes inwardly. Peering this deeply into his eyes this time, I feel like wrapping my hands around his neck and kissing our night away. "Don't stay up late waiting," he concludes, lands a peck on my nose, turns around, and begins to walk away.

While my eyes stay glued to him, my inner voice calls out to tell him I wouldn't mind subjecting this beat body to his punishment, until his back disappears and its view is substituted with the wooden door's.

I heave a sigh, the loneliness that now dances around me packing a punch.

But what was that for? Was he a secret admirer who wasn't bold enough to approach me and decided to cut corners by using his money to get through to my dad? Did he always harbor feelings for me?

'It's the CEO of a conglomerate company we're talking about here. He's gone through scarier adversaries to be shaken by a near-insignificant being.'

Near-insignificant?

'COMPARED to him.'

Yeah, right. But still, isn't he being too nice?

The debates and pep-talks in my head as to why he WOULD and WOULDN'T show this much affection keep me company through my night's activities, shielding my head from peace until late into the night when I'm tucked in bed, ready to sleep.

Lying on my side with eyes on the door, I wonder where he could be and why he isn't back yet before I shut my eyelids.

The Next Morning ...

'Your expectations could grow taller than you at this rate.'

My lips shorten gradually until they revert to their original length and my smile fades. The image of Ivan's face towering over me while he says, 'Good morning, beautiful,' and serves me breakfast in bed shatters to nothing. He's neither here nor anywhere in this room.

Did he sleep out?

Guess not, I think, when I see the other end of the duvet is flipped over like someone just got off.

Gripping the duvet over my bosom tighter, I squeal inwardly at the thought that we shared a bed.

My phone buzzes. The excitement from the morning has the majority of my focus ensnarled while the insignificant other accompanies my hand as it glides backward across the bed to fish my handset lying on the side stool by my bedside. On feeling something hard and flat within my grip, I raise the phone to my face.

On turning the screen on, an ODDLY FAMILIAR image pops up, washing away the relaxed look on my face with untainted horror.

Seconds onward, the door creaks. Whipping my face in its direction, Ivan surfaces from behind the door with his phone to his ears.

'Told you, Laurel. He isn't to be trusted.'

'The video quality was good, yeah?' his voice when he said that resounds in my head, surging a fresh wave of infuriation laced with disgust through my nerves.

'Is this what you meant?' I let my appalled expression ask, squeezing my brows to its limit.

"I'll call you back," he says, narrowing his eyes on me.

I spring out of bed and stomp on my bedroom slippers in fury as I march to him. Before the veil is lifted off my senses so I can think of any other 'logical' reaction, on closing our distance, my hand leaps from its place and lands my palm on his cheek, tugging along a heavy smack that echoes through the space.

"You devil."