Under the Mistletoe: He Chose My Brother

CHAPTER 4: HUMILIATION

REVA

Opening my eyes, everything was blurry for a moment, and I wondered where I was. The ceiling above me, as well as the walls, were unfamiliar, and the warm, muted lighting made it difficult to tell what was going on.

Panic fluttered through my chest as I sat up too quickly, and just then it hit me… the memories… Nikolai… Hunter, his cruel words, the run, and the rush of the wind, fraught with the scent of the water.

There was a brief moment of peace before everything exploded, and I shot up, looking around frantically, my heart pounding.

But a sharp pain shot through my skull and stopped me cold. My head felt like it would split in half, and the bitter taste of wine, whiskey, and something else I couldn’t name lingered on my tongue, making me want to gag.

I could also feel the heavy residue of alcohol in my system, or exhaustion; I couldn’t tell which one, as I had not been too drunk when I went to confront Nikolai and Hunter.

But in the haze of all that, I couldn’t help noticing how luxurious this suite was, and I couldn't help asking myself again where I was and how I got here.

The bed beneath me was plush, the sheets cool and soft, and the air carried a faint scent of cologne that was familiar and comforting. My gaze landed on the bedside table, where a glass of water, two pills, and a small note rested. I reached for the note, my hand trembling as I read it.

“Take these. You’ll need them.”

At that moment, however, a violent twist wrenched my stomach, interrupting my thoughts. I leapt out of bed, unsteady on my feet, and frantically searched the room for the bathroom door.

Spotting it, I bolted toward it, one hand pressed to my churning stomach, the other outstretched to steady myself against the wall.

The door swung open, and I collapsed to the cool floor next to the toilet just in time. Everything I had drunk came rushing out, and the bitter taste of whiskey became unbearable.

My body felt wrung out. My eyes stung with tears as I continued to heave. And I threw up again, the bitter taste burning my throat.

Just as I finished, the horror, the gut-wrenching fear brought on by the magnitude of what I almost did, came rushing back, and a loud sob ripped through my chest. I almost killed myself; I almost wounded my parents. I almost did that to them.

Regret twisted so violently in my stomach that I almost threw up again, my insides this time, as I curled into myself, realizing how selfish I was to do that to my family, who needed me. My parents wouldn't have survived that.

Just then, I heard the door to the bedroom open, and panic surged through me. Scrambling to my feet, I hastily flushed the toilet to erase the evidence.

Embarrassment prickled over my skin at the thought of someone walking into their room and finding me like this. Rinsing my mouth quickly, I splashed cold water on my face and tried to calm my breathing.

But my reflection in the mirror wasn’t helping; I looked pale and shaken, my eyes wide and wild.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I only took two steps before I halted, and only then did I realize I was wearing a man’s dress shirt, too large for me, and unbuttoned far too low.

My heart thudded harder as dread and confusion twisted in my gut. And then I rounded the corner to see a man standing across the room, dressed in formal slacks and a pale blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

He had his back to me as he adjusted something on the table, and I realized that the clothing he wore was not the resort uniform, indicating that he wasn’t staff.

I took another cautious step forward, and that’s when I saw the covered dish beside him. The scent hit me a second later, rich and buttery, with hints of garlic and lemon, and the smoky aroma of perfectly grilled salmon.

My stomach growled in betrayal, even though I had just rejected everything in it, and the man turned around.

“Good morning, Mrs. Belkov.” His voice was deep, and my heart skipped a beat at the fact that he knew my name. But before I could ask who he was, he continued. “I’m Mr. Price’s butler.”

My heart stuttered once more. Mr. Price? As in my boss’s father? He owned the company where I worked. He was the man who had generously paid for this retreat.

I had assumed that he had already left the resort with his wife after greeting everyone. Heat flared across my cheeks, mortification setting my skin ablaze. How did I end up in his room?

Was he the one who pulled me from the water? Was he the thing that had gripped me in the dark, icy waves before I passed out?

My head spun. “Where… is Mr. Price?” I stammered tremulously and added, before the butler could respond, that I was asking whether Mr. Price was the one who brought me here last night.

The look in his eyes screamed that he knew everything before the words left his mouth. My boss's father was indeed the one who saved me, and the pity in this man's gaze was haunting. Oh my God. My gaze dropped to the shirt clinging to my damp skin.

The butler gave me a polite smile before continuing. “Mr. Price is out on the balcony, and he said-” He turned toward the covered dish, but his voice muted, and I pivoted and started walking toward the sliding glass door.

Each step made my nerves twist tighter. But as I reached the door, something inside me faltered. The moment I touched the handle, a wave of nausea rolled through me, not from the aftermath of last night, but from the anxiety clawing up my throat.

What was I doing?

I couldn’t face him. I didn’t even know what he had seen… what he had heard. I had already embarrassed myself enough by ending up here, wearing his shirt like some kind of tragic cliché after he paid for us to have a good time. I brought trash and ruined it for everyone. The last thing I wanted was to make it worse.

But still, I couldn’t just leave without saying something. He had saved me, at least, I assumed he had. It would be rude… awkward… cowardly to slip away like none of it happened. Him having to seek me out to find out if I was okay would be worse.

Proceeding to convince myself, I inhaled and then slid the door open. The cool morning air whispered against my skin, the scent of salt and sea carried in by the soft breeze.

I stepped outside, but stopped cold the moment I saw him. The man standing on the balcony railing wasn’t Mr. Price senior.

It was Levi. My boss.

My heart stopped, skipped, and then slammed hard into my ribs as recognition dawned. He stood with one hand gripping the railing, head tilted down as he looked out at the ocean, the early sunlight catching the sharp lines of his profile.

His hair was tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing strong forearms.

There was something about the way he stood, too, that made the whole moment feel heavier than it should’ve. And then… as if he sensed me behind him, he turned. His eyes met mine, and in that split second, I forgot how to breathe.

I hadn't thought things could get any more awkward.