I cough, pushing up in my chair, trying to regain my bearings. I run my hand down my face and immediately I’m in a panic. Her scent is still with me. The realization that I left her last night to deal with some business, intending to be back before she woke up.
“What time is it?” I spin, darting my head from the monitors to my sister, then down to my watch, knowing I don’t really need her answer.
“Ten o’clock. Are you sick? I’ve never seen you sleep past six AM. Not even that night in Berlin, you remember? We closed the deal on the Sieminal merger? We went out to celebrate and—”
“I gotta go.” I bolt up and toward the door, then turn back, stomping toward the door that leads to my en-suite bathroom, tearing off my rumpled suit and hopping in the shower needing the hot water for a minute to clear the brain fog. I feel like I’ve been knocked over the head and the last thing I remember is finishing a phone call with some of my partners in Toyko, then dealing with a mess of a problem with the President of one of the companies where I’m CEO. He’s been sending overt and threatening emails to a few females and it’s all blowing up in the media. I was typing out an email to our attorneys, telling them in no uncertain terms to can his ass no matter the lawsuits he might file, then I watched Delia sleeping again on the monitors, then everything went black.
I’m out of the shower and dressed in record time. I need to get to her. I left her a note telling her I’d be back before she woke up. That I had something I needed to tell her.
Guilt takes me to a dark space. I played on her fears and doubts last night. She wasn’t sure I was real. She asked if I was a ghost. A demon. The man from the painting.
It didn’t stop me from becoming a beast with her. I didn’t take her cherry, that’s the last shred of my humanity I can bank on right now. I’m already pulsing and engorged for her and I know somehow, that will never change. I need this girl. She’s dug herself down deep into my marrow, like I’ve known her for a thousand years.
I should have just told her I’m real. I snuck in your fucking room because I couldn’t stay away from you another second. I should have come clean, but I didn’t. I was filthy with her. I needed it. But now, in the light of morning, I’m not sure I didn’t cause more harm than good.
“Where are you running off to? I thought we were going to watch the show on the monitors with the crew?”
“I don’t care about the show.” I swallow hard and bolt for the door, Carolyn wide-eyed and smiling. I toss one more glance back at the monitors set up in Delia’s room, but she’s nowhere to be seen. The last thing I note before I’m out in the hall, is there are two notes on the bed. One is probably mine from this morning, the other one, I’m not sure. I gave the staff specific instructions NOT to include Delia is any more of the tasks or haunting set-ups.
I’m heaving and my pulse is pounding when I storm into her room, calling her name only to be answered by silence. I grab the notes, reading, and my blood turns to icy rivers in my veins.
This isn’t my note. It’s not written in my hand or with my pen. And the other one….fuck. Jesus, what the fuck? I’m going to eviscerate whoever on the crew is playing these games with her. I’ll bust their balls and then gut them with my bare hands. The only glimmer of hope is the last note tells me where she is and I break out of her suite at a dead run down the hall.
And that’s when I hear it.
There’s a pounding on the wall. I follow the instructions, pushing the marble statue back and lunge into the room revealed beyond. I’ve never been in here before. Never knew it was here. But none of that matters right now.
It’s her. Fuck, what’s going on?
She’s crouched on the floor, heaving every breath as her fists pound on the wall, her cheeks streaming with tears, wearing a pink dress I know wasn’t in her suitcase when she came. I was sure to watch the staff as they went through her belongings. So, if that dress wasn’t hers and I didn’t give it to her…something is not right.
“Delia.” I crouch next to her, her eyes wide with fear and sadness. “What’s going on?”
“I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t breathe… It was so sad in here.”