Elera Hayes POV
The cab driver pulled up at the hotel and I couldn't help but stare at the main entrance. She had sent the address of the hotel few minutes after hanging up. Something about this place didn't sit right but I wasn't ready to screw this up.
I was here to cover a story and this could be the biggest evidence I might need against Kai Monroe. I just wasn't expecting our meeting spot to be a hotel room.
I stepped out of the cab, paid the driver and walked toward the entrance. The lobby was quiet, too quiet, but I tried to act casual as I approached the front desk.
"Hi," I greeted, keeping my voice steady.
"Good evening, ma'am. How can I help you?" the receptionist replied, her eyes flicking to the computer.
"I'm heading to Priscilla Presley's room. Room 509" I said, glancing around as if I had a reason to be here beyond curiosity.
"And you are?" She asked.
"Elera Hayes."
"Oh, she has been expecting you, she said, smiling. It's on the fifth floor by your right. You can make use of the elevator over there." She added, pointing towards the location.
I nodded, suppressing a small frown. A hotel room at night? I could have met anywhere—coffee shop, quiet café, park, but here I was. I told myself it was her choice. Maybe she was afraid or perhaps she had her reasons and I had mine as well.
The elevator dinged as I stepped in. Three… four… five… the numbers climbed and my pulse quickened without me realizing. Each floor felt like it added to the tension in my chest.
When the doors opened onto the fifth floor, I hesitated just outside the door after seeing the inscription 'Room 509'. I adjusted my bag, took a deep breath, and told myself I was in control. I had come prepared. Nothing here could make me waver. I knocked but got no answer so I turned the handle and stepped inside. The room was silent, almost unnervingly so. No one was there.
I paused, letting my eyes adjust and my ears straining. Then I heard the faint rush of water from the bathroom.
My stomach tightened. She had to be in there. I moved closer, careful not to make a sound, but my hand lingered on the wall, gripping the strap of my bag for balance. The sound of running water filled the quiet room and made it feel smaller and more suffocating.
I tried to call the number again, just to be sure but it went straight to voicemail. I frowned but forced myself to breathe. "Patience, Elera," I told myself I could wait. I had no intention of leaving without answers.
I scanned the room, letting my eyes rest on a jar of water on the table. Thirsty, I poured a glass and drank but my hands shook slightly as I set the glass back down.
Every instinct in me screamed that something was off. The silence, the empty room, the unresponsive phone—it all added up. And yet, I reminded myself again: I wasn't here to be distracted. I was here for the truth.
Then, just as the tension reached a breaking point, the water in the bathroom stopped and was replaced by silence again. My stomach churned, and a cold wave of unease settled over me. Something was coming, I could feel it, though I had no idea what.
I stepped closer to the bathroom, ready to knock if I had to, my mind already forming questions, angles and ways to get her to speak. But I paused, hand hovering in the air, listening. I had to be patient.
Just then, the bathroom door opened, revealing an image which made me halt on the spot.
Kai Monroe stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist. For a second, I couldn't move. My eyes betrayed me, moving on their own. From his broad chest, I followed the slow drop of water as it traced its way down his stomach, settling briefly over the hard lines of his abs. This wasn't what I was here for, I reminded myself.
He caught my stare and smirked, like he could read every thought.
"What are you doing here?" My voice trembled despite my effort to sound steady.
He tilted his head, letting the towel shift casually, and replied, "I should be the one asking you that."
"I… I'm looking for someone," I stammered. "A lady called me here."
He chuckled. "Seems like you found me instead."
My stomach twisted. This couldn't be happening. I had not expected him, not here, not now. His eyes lingered on me with a sharp, calculating confidence.
"I think you're in the wrong room," I said finally, lifting my chin.
"Maybe," he said, moving closer. "Or maybe you're exactly where I wanted you to be."
My throat went dry. I tried to look away, focusing on the cup of water on the table. Anything but him.
"You… you shouldn't be here," I said, trying to regain control of my voice.
"Shouldn't I?" He leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "You came here, didn't you?"
I swallowed. My mind raced as I think of the lady, the call… all my intentions, my careful planning—they were still in place. Perhaps, I entered the wrong room.
He tilted his head, studying me. "You could touch me," he said suddenly, his voice low and sly. "I don't bite. Not unless you want me to."
I blinked. My body froze, but my mind screamed. Snap out of it, Elera.
"I'm not like the others," I said, finding my voice. "I know what you've done. And I won't let you get away with it."
He laughed softly, a smooth, mocking sound. "Ah. You're a fierce one." He stepped closer, taking a slow but deliberate steps. "Let's see how long that lasts."
My eyes flicked to the water. I couldn't understand why my throat felt dry all of a sudden. I had just drank a glass of water.
He followed my gaze, smiled, and said, "Empty already? Very clever."
"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.
"You'll see soon enough," he replied, letting the words hang.
I felt dizzy before I could react. My head spun and the room tilted. "What did you do?" My voice rose, fear creeping in.
He leaned closer, whispering, "What do you think, Miss Reporter?"
I stumbled back toward the door, fighting to keep my footing.
"You claim to be a woman of justice," he continued, his tone darkly playful, "but who will save you now?"
My hands trembled, brushing against the wall. It dawned on me that the call was a trap.
"I… I should leave," I said, my voice shaking. I backed toward the door, fighting the dizziness. "I need to get out."
He blocked my path, calmly. "Too early," he said. "We haven't even started having fun yet."
I tried to move past him, but he was faster, holding unto me firmly. "Please, I…"
"I'll admit it," he said, almost conversational, "you're beautiful. It's a shame you're going against me."
I stiffened. His words wrapped around me like a trap. My mind argued, but my eyes betrayed me again, flicking unwillingly to his chest and slim pink lips.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thought. No.
Snap out of it.
He caught my hands and placed them on his chest. "Feel it," he said. "Caress me,"
I pulled away immediately. His smile widened. "Relax. You'll enjoy it."
I stumbled to the bed as my vision blurred.
"You won't be able to move for long," he said, his tone almost intimate and mocking.
I tried to think, focus and resist but my mind just wasn't thinking.
"What do you think?" he asked, tilting his head. You think you're clever. You think you came here with the upper hand. But I was waiting."
I tried to steady myself but my legs wobbled. The dizziness crept further.
"You're going to remember this," he whispered. "And you're going to remember who's in control."
I wanted to scream and run. My instincts screamed for me to fight, but my body betrayed me, trembling.
The room felt tighter, almost suffocating. He leaned closer, his eyes locking on mine. "Beautiful… dangerous… daring. Too bad you're against me."
I pressed back against the wall, my eyes darting as my heart raced.
Then came the knock.
A voice called from the door. "It's the reporter."
He paused,
lips curling into a slow smile.
"Plan B activated. This is going to be interesting," he muttered to himself, eyes flicking toward me.