Daniel walked out of his room, dressed in a dark, impeccably tailored suit. The fabric absorbed the low light of the hallway, making him look like a shadow given form.
He was on his way out.
Across the narrow corridor, Lina's door was open just a crack. Her head was peeping through the gap, her face framed by the wood, the rest of her wrapped in nothing but a towel.
He was not surprised to see her.
She, however, was a different story.
Lina stood frozen, her hand still on the edge of the door. She could not believe her eyes. For a long, suspended moment, she stared at him—at the sharp cut of his jaw, the hard line of his mouth, the dark eyes that seemed to see right through her. Her gaze drifted, almost against her will, from his face to his jaw to his lips. Those lips. She remembered them. She remembered pressing her own against them.
Her gaze lingered on his mouth a moment too long.
Then she slammed the door shut.
No, she thought, pressing her back against the wood. I am seeing things. That did not just happen.
She took a breath. Then another. Then she opened the door again, just a sliver.
Daniel was gone. The hallway was empty.
She exhaled—a long, shaky release of air—and closed the door properly this time, leaning her forehead against the cool wood. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Of course he wasn't there. How could he be? How could Daniel Viggo possibly be staying in the room directly across from hers, in a foreign country? It was impossible. She had been imagining things.
They were in Merra. A city she had never visited, on a continent she had barely imagined. The chances of him being here, in this hotel, on this floor, in the room opposite hers, were astronomical. Impossible.
It had to be a trick of her exhausted, jet-lagged mind.
But the memory came rushing back, unwanted and undeniable. She had kissed him. She had leaned in and pressed her mouth to his. She had started it.
The shame was a hot, crawling thing under her skin.
She slammed the palm of her hand against the doorframe, angry at herself, angry at her own stupidity. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the image of his face, the feel of his lips.
But his face kept surfacing. Every time she closed her eyes, there he was—his eyes, those lips.
No, she told herself firmly. I am not thinking about this. I am here with Carter. Work. Business.
She was here with her crush. A week in a foreign country. A chance to be close to him, to learn from him, to prove herself. Forgetting about a stupid, drunken kiss would not be hard at all.
Yes. That was the plan.
She pushed off the door and walked back into the room, dropping onto the small couch near the bed. She pulled out her phone, trying to distract herself. She took a picture of the view—just a quick shot, nothing special. But her eyes caught the open suitcase on the floor, overflowing with Bella's outrageous selections, and she could not help but think about her best friend.
If Bella were in this situation—stranded in a foreign country with nothing but stripper clothes and a boss she was supposed to impress—she would not be sitting here feeling sorry for herself. She would be laughing. She would be praying for whoever had packed her luggage. She would march downstairs in that tiny red dress and dare anyone to say a word.
Lina smiled despite herself.
A knock came at the door.
She stood and crossed the room, peering through the peephole. A hotel staff member stood outside, pushing a cart laden with covered dishes.
She opened the door.
"Your dinner, madam," the young man said with a polite smile.
Lina blinked. She had not ordered anything. But she stepped aside and watched as he wheeled the cart inside, set the table with practiced efficiency, and arranged the plates with the precision of a chef presenting a masterpiece.
She blinked.
Is this how they serve here?
The staff member finished, bowed again, and left without a word.
Lina stood in the middle of the room, staring at the transformed table. It looked like a scene from a movie—the kind of romantic dinner two people shared before falling into bed together.
She pulled out her phone and took a picture, sending it to Bella with a string of confused emojis.
Then she sat down to eat.
The first bite was divine. Rich, buttery, perfectly seasoned. She closed her eyes and let out a small moan of appreciation. She had only taken a second bite when a thought struck her.
What if I am asked to pay for this later?
The sweet taste in her mouth fought against the spike of anxiety. She imagined the bill—the look on her face when she realized she had eaten a meal worth a week's rent.
No, she decided. Enjoy it now. Worry later. Tonight, she was going to enjoy the food and the luxury the hotel had given her.
She pushed the thought away and took another bite. Then another. The food was too good to waste on anxiety.
She was halfway through the meal when Bella's call came in.
Lina answered, her mouth still half-full.
"Was that meant for you and Carter?" Bella demanded. "Or just you?"
Lina laughed, the sound muffled by the food in her cheek. That was her answer.
"How can you be so stingy as not to send me a plate?" Bella continued. "Don't tell me you're going to eat all that without sharing?"
Lina swallowed before replying. "Of course I am going to eat it all. I am the one who is going to be walking around half naked because a certain someone helped me pack. So I need my strength. When I get too embarrassed and want to collapse, I need the energy to stand tall and not fall. So yes. I am eating."
"What do you mean, half naked?" Bella's voice was indignant. "Auntie wouldn't buy you clothes that aren't good. You saw it yourself—it's all from her collection. And her message was clear: My daughter dress sexily sometimes."
"Of course I get it," Lina said dryly. "I totally understand what that 'sexily' is going to cost me. My dignity. My face."
"Who cares about your dignity?" Bella shot back. "You cannot even see properly anyway."
"Bella."
"What? If you had good vision, you would have known. It was just you and Carter. You should look sexy. So when y'all get back to Eldrida and you start wearing your sacks again, he will look at you with those sexy eyes."
Lina chewed, considering. "Wait, Bella. How can you be so shameless when it comes to things like this?"
"Oh, come on." Bella's voice was matter-of-fact. "If you are shameful about things like this, then you won't get what—or who—you want. You know that. You're too ashamed to claim what's yours."
Lina knew arguing with Bella was fruitless. Her best friend could find reasonable justification for anything. Setting a house on fire? It was cold outside. Robbing a bank? The teller needed excitement. Packing a bikini for a business trip? Auntie's orders. She could justify anything.
That was Bella for you.
"Okay, miss," Lina surrendered. "I get it. I understand everything you have said."
Bella smiled, triumphant. "Now that's a good girl. Now listen…"
What followed was a monologue. Bella launched into detailed instructions: which outfit for which day, which accessories for which meeting, which expression for which hour. She explained how to wear the red dress—"the 'what do you think' dress, remember that name"—and when to let her hair down and when to keep it up. She gave a seminar on the art of looking like you were not trying while trying very, very hard.
Lina nodded along, not really hearing a word. She propped her phone against the water glass and continued eating, letting Bella's voice become background noise.
Bella was still talking when Lina finished her meal, pushing the last bite around the plate.
"—and remember, the key is to seduce without seeming like you are seducing. It is an art form. Do you understand?"
Lina rolled her eyes, but affectionately.
"I understand everything you said," she lied smoothly. "Now I need to practice. Operation Seduction starts now."
Bella's face lit up. "Now that's my girl! And remember—today, wear the 'what do you think' dress. Okay?"
Lina nodded, having no idea what dress that was. Bella had named every garment in the suitcase like they were characters in a play. She was amazed, as always, by her best friend's ability to brand the mundane.
After a few more instructions—"And don't forget to spritz the perfume on your wrists, not your neck, trust me on this"—Bella finally ended the call.
Lina set the phone down and looked at her empty plate.
She posted a picture of the meal on Instagram, adding the hotel's location in Merra. Let people wonder. Let them assume she was living some glamorous life. She deserved a little mystery.
It was too early to sleep, and she couldn't go out either. She glanced at the suitcase again, at the explosion of silk and lace and things she would never have chosen for herself. She could not go out in any of those clothes without a long jacket. The thought of walking through the lobby in a tiny red dress made her want to disappear.
Thinking of long jackets made her think of Lucas.
She wondered how he had known she was at Pinnacle Bar last night. How he had appeared just when she needed him. He had been helping her—always helped her, he was reliable—and she felt a swell of gratitude towards him. Lucas was someone she could count on.
She sat on the edge of the bed and turned on the television, flipping through channels. The news blurred past—weather, politics, a fire somewhere—none of it holding her attention.
Her phone rang.
She picked it up. Carter's voice came through immediately, smooth and unhurried.
"Meet me downstairs."
Then he ended the call.
Lina stared at the screen for a moment, her heart picking up speed.
Downstairs.
She looked at the suitcase. At the clothes. At the towel still wrapped around her body.
She had nothing to wear.
Fuck.