Good girl
If it weren’t for my overwhelming affection for Ruth, I wouldn’t have bothered making the long trip just to deliver these documents of hers. My lovely sister often forgets things that are important to her and ends up involving me as her personal courier service.
Pulling my phone from my bag, I called Ruth.
“Hey, Camryn, you here yet?” she answered on the second ring.
“Just landed. Where the hell am I meeting you?” I asked without preamble.
“Grab a cab, I’ll text you the address.” From her tone, I fully understood she was in a rush for whatever reason.
“You better pray I don’t suddenly forget we’re supposed to be best sisters,” I said casually.
“Sending it now, Cam.” That was her last remark before unilaterally ending the call.
I smiled thinly, holding back the urge to curse her out.
Even though she sometimes acted arbitrarily like this, I knew that whatever Ruth was working on was incredibly important. Even the financial perks of her success flowed to me. Ruth was a journalist who was always the crown jewel at her workplace. And right now, she was covering a story that, based on what she said last week, would make her name shine even brighter.
Ruth: Hyatt Regency St. Louis at The Arch. 315 Chestnut St, St. Louis.
I showed the address to the cab driver. He gave a brief nod and started driving. Inwardly, I wondered what kind of news was so big it made Ruth willing to be sent all the way to this city from Chicago.
The taxi finally stopped at the hotel Ruth had specified. Not a bad choice, I muttered internally. Adjusting my hat, I stepped out of the cab, ready to welcome the blazing summer sun of St. Louis.
I walked right into the hotel lobby, bypassing the receptionist as if I were a guest who had been staying here for a week. Ruth was the one with the room, not me.
Pressing the elevator button, the doors opened and I was immediately treated to the sight of two teenagers aggressively making out. They were so engrossed they didn’t care about my presence. I couldn’t tell if it was just my imagination or if the elevator I was in was actually moving slowly.
The ding of the elevator was the only thing that managed to separate the two teenagers. They then held hands and walked out with hurried steps.
“Ugh, people are literally feral,” I muttered in disbelief.
The elevator doors were just about to close completely, getting ready to take me up, when a shiny leather shoe slipped into the narrow gap. The doors automatically reopened, revealing a tall man in a black dress shirt who stepped inside.
Everything happened so fast as the man stripped off his black shirt, leaving him in a tight white t-shirt that clearly outlined his muscles. Then he lunged forward until my back slammed against the elevator wall.
“What the fuck—”
“Don’t move.”
A hard, metallic object pressed into my stomach—a gun. Its position was so tight between our bodies, hidden perfectly out of range of the security camera on the ceiling. My breath hitched instantly. Panic and terror seized me, freezing the blood in my brain as the elevator doors closed tightly and began moving up again, trapping me with the predator.
“P-please, don’t hurt me,” I squeaked in terror.
“Not if you cooperate,” he shot back, shoving his black dress shirt into the waistband of his pants. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Before my brain could even process his words, the man dipped his head and captured my lips just like that.
My eyes widened, my natural instinct pushing against his chest to create distance. However, instead of retreating, he bit down on my lower lip. “One wrong move and I pull the trigger,” he murmured right against my mouth.
He kissed me again, this time much deeper, demanding, and incredibly skilled. The terror in my mind was slowly contaminated by an unnatural heat spreading through my body. His free hand moved up, snatching the cap from my head and pulling it backward onto his own, shadowing his profile.
The elevator dinged open. The man pressed his body closer until there was absolutely no space between us, giving an unspoken but absolute command for me to remain silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the silhouette of a man outside about to step in, but his steps faltered at the sight of the heated scene inside. The doors closed again, and the elevator resumed its ascent.
That was when he finally broke the kiss.
I gasped, dragging in oxygen that suddenly felt scarce. Slowly, I gathered the courage to look at him, and my gaze immediately locked onto those gray eyes. Eyes that were as cold as ice, yet somehow captivating enough to leave me completely hypnotized.
The scent of his cologne—a mix of musk and a deep, masculine fragrance—lingered in my senses, intoxicating my rational thoughts.
His rough thumb brushed across my lips. “You didn’t see anyone in this elevator. We clear?”
I could only nod obediently, exactly like an idiot.
The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “Good girl,” he murmured softly, right as the elevator doors opened once more.
And just like that, he turned and walked away, disappearing down the hotel corridor and leaving me all alone. My legs were trembling, my fingers rising to touch my own lips, and ridiculously, I felt a profound sense of loss. That gray-eyed stranger had just pointed a gun at me, threatening my life, but instead of wanting to run as far away as possible, a twisted, crazy urge was just born in my mind to find him again.
