The journey from La Corona to the hotel was smooth–too smooth. I stared out the bulletproof window of Ethan’s luxury SUV, watching thendscape transform from dusty outskirts to more
developed areas.
“That ck SUV has been following us since we left the arena,” I thought to myself as I stared out the bulletproof window of Ethan’s luxury SUV. I’d spotted it three turns back, maintaining perfect
distance.
The hotel appeared ahead of us, a gleaming structure that seemed out of ce in this rough part of Venezu–twelve stories of luxury amid poverty and chaos. As we pulled up to the entrance, valets
rushed to open our doors.
“Shit,” Ethan muttered, stepping out. “I just realized I didn’t arrange for your luggage to be
collected.”
I followed him onto the curb. “No worries. I travel light.”
He nced at me, eyebrow raised. “As in…no luggage at all?”
“Backpacking,” I shrugged. “Budget travel, you know.”
“Right,” he said, his tone suggesting he didn’t believe me for a second. “I’ll have some clothes sent up. Anything specific you need?”
“Just the basics. Something to sleep in, something for tomorrow.”
The lobby was marble and crystal, with armed security positioned discreetly at strategic points. Ethan didn’t bother with the front desk, instead leading me directly to a private elevator that
required a keycard.
“Top floor,” he exined as the doors closed. “Best security in the building.”
I leaned against the elevator wall, watching him through half–lidded eyes. In the confined space, his cologne was more noticeable–expensive and subtle. The elevator doors opened to a short hallway with only two doors.
“You’re here,” he said, stopping at the first door and swiping a card. “I’m right next door if you need anything.”
I nodded, stepping into a suite that wasrger than our entire house back in Cloud City. Floor–to- ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city and the distant mountains. I heard Ethan and Connor talking in low voices in the hallway before my door clicked shut.
“Sir, we were definitely followed from La Corona,” Connor was saying.
“I know,” Ethan replied. “But they’re not after me. They’re after her.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Double the security on this floor. And find out who they are.”
“Already on it.”
Their footsteps retreated, and I heard the door next to mine open and close. I moved to the window, looking down at the hotel entrance. Sure enough, the ck SUV had parked across the street. Fourrge men stepped out, followed by several others who arrived in vehicles that had been behind us. I
counted fifteen men entering the hotel lobby.
I recognized a few faces from La Corona. Not difficult to guess what they wanted. Word had spread quickly that I might be taking over Titan Defense Group, and clearly some people weren’t happy
about it.
Fifteen men against one woman. Hardly seemed fair–for them.
Still, fighting here would be messy and would draw attention I didn’t need right now. Better to avoid the confrontation altogether. I examined the suite’s security features, noting the reinforced door and electronic lock. Not bad, but not enough if they had someone who knew what they were doing.
I waited twenty minutes before slipping out of my room. One quick knock on Ethan’s door was all it
took.
“Miss Morgan?” He opened the door wearing only dress pants, his hair damp, a towel draped around his shoulders. Clearly, I’d interrupted his shower preparations.
“I’m scared,” I said, making my eyes wide. “Can I stay here tonight? I think someone followed us from
that awful arena.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn’t buying my frightened act, but he stepped aside anyway. “Of
course. Come in.”
<b>9:05 </b><b>Thu</b>, Sep 18 B
<b>83 </b>
His suite was identical to mine but with slightly more masculine furnishings. A liquor cab stood in one corner, stocked with bottles that probably cost more than most people made in a year.
“I was about to shower,” he said, gesturing toward the bathroom where steam was already escaping. “Make yourselffortable. I won’t be long.”
I nodded, pretending to be nervous as I perched on the edge of a sofa. As soon as the bathroom door closed, I moved to the window, scanning the street below. Three men had positioned themselves at
various points around the hotel entrance.
My attention shifted to the liquor cab. I opened it, examining the collection until I found a
bottle of Macan 25–year–old whiskey. Perfect.
A knock at the door interrupted my inspection. I opened it to find a hotel staff member with
clothing draped over his arm.
“Delivery for Mr. Haxton and Miss Morgan,” he said pleasantly.
I epted the packages, noting they’d included items for both of us. Efficient. I set Ethan’s clothes
on the bed and ced mine aside, returning to the whiskey.
By the time Ethan emerged from the bathroom, dressed in lounge pants and a t–shirt, I was standing
by the window again, watching the street below. The whiskey bottle sat on the coffee table, significantly depleted.
“The security here is excellent,” Ethan said, toweling his hair dry. “You don’t need to worry.”
His eyes fell on the whiskey bottle, and his expression changed. “Did you… drink that?”
I nced at the bottle, now missing about half its contents. “I was thirsty. Couldn’t find any water.”
“That’s a five–hundred–dor bottle of Macan,” he said, sounding more amused than angry.
“Is it? Tasted like regr whiskey to me.”
Ethan studied me for a moment, then asked abruptly, “How old are you?”
“Why ask that? You wanna…”
“What?” he asked, noticing my peculiar gaze.
9:05 Thu, Sep 18 …
I realized my mistake. He wasn’t thinking about intimacy–he was worried about the legal drinking age. Of course he would think that way. To him, I was just a high school student. Still, why would someone like Ethan Haxton, one of America’s most eligible bachelors, keep his distance from women? I nced at his athletic frame. He certainly didn’t look like he had any physical issues.
“Nothing,” I replied, picking up my bundle of clothes. “I’m going to shower now. Thanks for the
clothes.”
<b>83 </b>