The Wrong Door

But I just needed to shut my eyes. Only for a little bit.

*I would leave in thirty minutes. *I told myself, making a mental note to set my alarm after I've settled in.

Three gray coloured sofas lined the sitting room, a cylindrical glass table adorned with plastic fruits in a fruit basket, sat at the center, opposite a sleek, white TV unit. The walls were a blend of gray, black and white that screamed ‘sophistication’.

To my far left was a dining area and bar of some sort. A small oak table sat in the middle, with three chairs flanking it. While at the corner, a liquor cabinet lined the wall with a makeshift bar counter and bar stools.

I gave a hum of appreciation and took off my heels, sighing in relief when my bare feet made contact with the plush black carpet. I wiggled my toes and began my journey towards the room, ignoring the closed door in the dining, that probably led to a fancy kitchenette.

The door opened on a click exposing a cold dark room and I stumbled in, turning to switch on the lights.

“Who the fuck are you?” I tensed, my back stiffening as I felt warm minty breath on the back of my neck and the cold press of a gun on the exposed dip of my waist.

*What a way to go, Lila.* I shuddered, raising my hands in surrender.

“My name is Lila. Lila Rose.”

It seemed as though my body and mind felt different things regarding this scenario. Because despite the rapid thumping of my heart, my sweaty palms and shaky limbs, my mind recalled the interaction with Collins the fourth and I began shaking with barely controlled laughter.

“Are you laughing?” The annoyance in that deep baritone only made me burst into laughter.

I gave a snort which triggered more rounds of giggles, my body bending at the waist and one hand holding on to the wall for support.

He moved away, the gun dropping from my waist and I took that opportunity to face the quite familiar stranger, my hands gripping my cramping tummy.

He raised a perfectly trimmed brow at my display, his eyes hard, and lips pulled in a firm line. He crossed thick forearms in disapproval, his biceps bunching up the white shirt he wore, tucked into black slacks.

The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and two buttons were undone, revealing a sliver of smooth tan skin and a silver chain with a ring on it.

“Lila Rose who?” Ah! He also wanted the flamboyant introduction. My eyes moved from his bare feet up to his face— black hair, styled in messy waves and a chiseled jaw.

Meeting his red-rimmed stormy gray eyes, I shrugged, the fits of laughter subsiding and leaving exhaustion.

I took a step in the direction of the bed and then I crumpled to the floor in a pile of limbs and fabric.

He sank to the floor in front of me, toned thighs crisscrossing and I wondered how such a big and ripped man could fold himself on the floor like that.

My cheeks heated as I felt the burn of his gaze on my face, my eyes blinking to ward off the ever present fog in my mind.

“What?” I grumbled, my eyes taking in anything and everything that was not him.

I took in a deep breath and his scent assaulted my nostrils, a mix of sandalwood, after-shave and ‘expensive man’. My body loved it and was acutely aware of how attractive he was, judging by the heat in my tummy and the fluttering of my pulse.

He held my chin in his fingers, pulling my eyes back to his. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to tuck my hair behind my ears.

He hummed, jaw ticking before he sighed out. “Yup, you're as drugged up as I am.”

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💋 To be continued...

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