Alex's POV
*****
Later that evening, I was discharged from the hospital.
Guess who drove me home?
Ding, ding, ding... You might've guessed it correctly! It was Vincent fucking Moretti.
"Take care of those arms, will you?" He blurted casually when I stepped out of the car without saying a word.
I paused, keeping my hand on the car door for a few seconds too long, ignoring the lingering sting from the stitches. No paparazzi were nearby, and people around the skyscraper were doing their normal business.
After drawing in a deep breath, I forced a smile, glancing back at his stoic face.
"Thank you," I said through my teeth, closing the car door behind me before I turned fully and continued walking toward the building.
Gosh, I need a drink and a long ass bubble bath! But speaking of bubble baths... A certain someone could make that much better if it happened.
My face lit up as I brought out my phone, dialling Mathias's number when I walked into the lobby.
We talked a little through texts back in the hospital, having a little argument about the media heat and allegations of Vincent and me dating.
Me letting Vincent drive me here probably wasn't helping matters... But it was a one-time thing!
"Hey, babe," I muttered when the number went to voicemail, scratching the back of my neck as I turned a corner toward an elevator. "I just got home and I... I can't stop thinking about you. I really want to see you."
The silence from the other end was gnawing but I had to smile through it, letting out a sigh. "If possible, can we hang out tomorrow? My treat. Call me."
With that, I sent the voicemail, tapping my fingers on the phone screen as I attempted to head for the elevator again.
But then—
My phone made a ding notification sound, causing my eyes to widen as I stared at it expectantly, opening it to see if he sent a reply.
"He did." I gasped, opening the message and skimming through it.
But a couple seconds in and my brows furrowed into a deep frown, my throat parching with confusion.
>I'm waiting for you. Where are you at?<
I blinked slowly at the text glaring back at me, trying to make sense of it.
Where am I at? Didn't he listen to a word from the voicemail I sent?
I raised my head, my eyes trailing through the almost empty lobby before landing on the exit door.
His house was only a ten-minute drive from mine, if the roads were clear of traffic. And right now the roads were so fucking clear of traffic.
"Fuck it." I cursed under my breath, pocketing my phone before drawing out my car key.
I waltzed toward the exit of the lobby with heavy steps, wondering what I was going to expect once I got there.
Well, I'll never know until I go.
.
.
When I parked in front of the single-storey white bungalow, my breath caught in my throat when I saw the black Toyota parked just a few meters in front of it.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, tapping it a few times as I tried regulating my breathing.
That wasn't Mathias' car.
I turned my head to the house, squinting one last time before I turned off the ignition of my car, stepping out and slamming the door behind me.
My heart beat was erratic, my fists clenching and unclenching beside me as I stared at the building. The lights were turned off all over the house... But I knew someone was in here.
Something told me to try calling Mathias again but then I remembered that weird text he sent.
>I'm waiting for you.<
My chest was already heavy, aching with a truth I just didn't want to accept. It couldn't be what I thought it was.
But just to clear my doubts, I walked to the front porch, scanning my eyes around the quiet neighbourhood.
There weren't many people out, and the few who lingered on the sidewalks — either heading into their buildings or chatting in low voices — did a good job minding their business.
That's one thing I loved about New York.
Anyway, I looked through the keys of my car key holder and soon found a spare key for Mathias' door. I was the one who changed the locks when it got bad a few weeks back.
My fingers trembled anxiously as I placed the key in the lock and twisted it, opening the door gently while holding my breath. I walked into the dark living room, closing the door behind me.
When I caught a whiff of a cologne that didn't belong to Mathias... My heart dropped further into my stomach, my mind reeling with multiple possible explanations.
I shook my head, clicking the light switch, my eyes flicking through the room.
And that's when I heard it.
Voices coming from one of the rooms in a corner.
My jaw tightened as I walked through the living room, heading in the direction where the voices were coming from.
"He's been living in the spotlight all this time..." A familiar voice that I knew all too well echoed from the partly opened door as I inched closer.
Mathias.
My pulse quickened with anxiety as he continued softly to whoever he was talking to.
"Sorry, I'm telling you about all this. But... But I feel so alone in this sham of a relationship." His voice cracked with bitterness. "The plan was never to catch feelings for the bastard. It was all for the money. For a comfortable life."
"Hey." Another much deeper voice chimed, sounding comforting. "You don't have to explain all this. We're so close. Once you marry him and get access to his assets, we can take off. Start afresh somewhere else."
My heart was beating so much that I could basically hear it louder than their voices.
But I'd heard enough.
With my fists curled, I kicked the door open, not even flinching at the sight inside.
Mathias, in bed with another man, both naked and cuddled together. But the second I barged in, they jerked, sitting up and grabbing the bed sheets, trying desperately to cover.
My throat constricted like I was being choked but I fought through it, raising my right hand and pointing a finger at him. "How... How could you? You... You really—"
I was barely able to make a coherent sentence when Mathias knelt on the bed in alarm, raising his hands with a pleading expression.
"A–Alex. It's not what you think. I was... I was drunk and—"
"Save it for the nigga in bed with you!" I snarled, glaring at him with nothing but pure spite.
Spite... And pain. Disbelief.
"Stay the fuck away from me from now on or I'll get a fucking restraining order," I spoke with a shuddering breath, my eyes already stinging. "You've made your choice. We're over."
I turned away from him, slamming the door shut even when I heard him trying to run after me. I flung the housekey aside.
When I got outside, I basically ran to the car, opening the door and jumping in.
I drove without looking back, destination unknown.
I didn't even know how long I drove for, my vision blurred with tears and headlights cutting past me like ghosts. The ache in my chest was unbearable, like someone had ripped me open and left me bleeding out on the steering wheel.
At some point, I ended up in front of a neon-lit building with pulsing music seeping into the street. A line of people laughed and smoked outside, and even though I hadn't planned it, my car seemed to know better than me.
It was a bar. No—more than a bar. A damn gay club.
I needed a drink. Fuck it, I needed ten.
Stepping out of the car, I ignored the curious stares I got from the local gays, walking straight towards the entrance.
Inside, the bass rattled my ribs, and bodies moved like a wave of chaos. Rainbow lights flashed across the crowd, illuminating strangers pressed too close, lips colliding, hands wandering.
Perfect. Just what I needed right now.
I didn't waste another moment and waltzed to the counter, ordering drinks.
Drink after drink burned down my throat, numbing the shaking in my hands.
By the fifth, I didn't care anymore. About Mathias, about the lies, about the stupid scar tissue crawling up my arms. I wanted to disappear in the noise and it seemed to be working at some point.
And then—
Through the haze, through the blur of dancers, my eyes locked onto someone leaning casually against the bar.
Vincent?
Of all fucking people, Vincent Moretti was here, in this place, at this time. And for a second, I couldn't breathe.
"What... What the fuck are you doing at a gay club?!" I yelled out at the top of my lungs, managing to catch his attention enough to make him swerve his head to me.
And there was that mysterious glint in his eyes... Even through my drunken haze.