CHAPTER 5
1289 Words
Aspirations
Elena's POV
I push through the heavy glass doors of the hotel, the rain slapping my face as the clerk's voice wanes. Every time my heart beats, it yells, "Alexander Kane*." My soaked shoes slip on the wet pavement as I stagger towards the parking garage. His lies, his warm hand, his blue eyes—the betrayal stings more than the cold. How could I have been so foolish as to fall in love with a man who is a part of the system that is ruining me?
I struggle with my keys as I arrive at my vintage hatchback. The parking garage's dim lights create long shadows, and it smells of exhaust and wet concrete. I look back at the hotel, half expecting Alex to come running after me, but the doors don't move. Excellent. I don't want his justifications or explanations. I grab the steering wheel until my knuckles hurt, slam the door, and slide into the driver's seat. Sofia is buzzing on my phone again, but I can't take her sympathy at the moment.
The blurred lights of the city streak through my tears as I pull out of the garage as the engine sputters to life. Tomorrow, I should go home, get into bed, and figure out how to save Martinez Tech. However, it feels oppressive to think of my small flat, which is full of reminders of my failure today. I drive in circles back towards The Fairmont Olympic, the rain hammering on the roof. Like a thread I can't cut, something draws me there.
The hotel's golden glow taunts me through the rain as I park across the street. I should not return. I ought to despise Alex and everything he represents. However, his words reverberate: *I left because of what they intended to do to you*. Did he mean it? Angry at myself for even thinking about it, I shake my head. He's a Kane. They don’t care about people like me.
Against my better judgment, I step out into the rain and cross the street. The doorman raises an eyebrow but lets me in, my dripping clothes leaving a trail on the marble floor. I head straight for the Georgian Lounge, my pulse pounding. I need to see Alex, to confront him, to know if any part of tonight was real. The lounge is quieter now, a few patrons nursing drinks under the soft jazz. Alone at my corner table, Alex looks into his whisky as if it contains the answers.
My rage flares again, and I march over. I say, "You're still here," in a voice that can be heard over the music. Startled, he looks up, his blue eyes wide with hope.
He stands up and corrects himself, saying, "Elle—Elena." "I didn't anticipate your return." His voice erodes my resolve because it is unpolished and nearly broken.
I yell, "Don't," and raise a hand. "Avoid playing the victim in this situation. You're Alexander Kane. Didn't you know who I was? My voice falters, revealing the pain I wish to conceal.
With his hands up as if he were approaching a wounded animal, he takes a step closer. "I promise I didn't. Not until your phone caught my eye. Elena, I meant what I said. I left my family because of what they wanted to do to your business. He looks into my eyes and begs. "You must trust me."
Something in his eyes stops me from screaming that I don't and that he is lying. When he discussed being ensnared by expectations earlier, I noticed the same vulnerability. A dangerous pull towards him replaces my waning anger. "What makes you worthy of my trust?" Quieter now, I ask. "For years, your uncle has been ruining my business. You participate in that.
"I'm not," he declares angrily. "For months, I've been battling Marcus to improve Kane Industries. I was unaware that it was *your* company until tonight, but I was unable to participate after learning of his plans. He moves closer until I can smell the warm, woodsy scent of his cologne. "There was no plan to meet you. It was fate.
I feel like a spark when I hear the word *fate*. My body betrays me by leaning towards him, even though I want to laugh and call it ridiculous. The other customers vanish into thin air as the lounge fades. The air between us is electric, and it's just the two of us. I mutter, more to myself than to him, "This is a mistake."
He says in a low, nearly growling voice, "Then let's make it a good one." I don't pull away when he reaches for my hand this time. I can't identify what it is that makes me shiver when he touches me. Elena, one evening. No names, no businesses, no history. Only us.
I ought to go for a run. I ought to give him a slap and leave. However, having his hand in mine and his eyes fixed on me gives me a sense of life that I haven't had in years. "One night," I say, my voice hardly audible. "No issues."
He nods, his concern gradually giving way to a smile. "No issues." With his hand steady against mine, he guides me out of the lounge. Anticipation permeates the quiet lift ride to his room. My heart is racing, but not out of fear, but out of intense, unadulterated desire.
I hardly notice his enormous suite, with its sleek lines and views of the city. He hesitates before turning to face me as the door clicks shut. With a gentle yet firm tone, he asks, "Are you sure?"
I don't respond verbally. I move closer and give him a kiss. His lips are warm, with a distinct whisky flavour. He reacts right away, bringing me closer with hands that slide to my waist. As if we are both starving for this moment, the kiss grows more intense, hungry, and desperate. The world shrinks to his touch, his breath, and my fingers tangle in his hair and shirt.
We stagger over to the bed, taking off our clothes until it's just skin to skin—my sweaty blazer, his rumpled shirt. His firm yet gentle hands map my body as if he were learning every curve by heart. The heat, the rhythm, and the way he whispers "Elle" like a prayer make me lose myself in him. I'm not Elena Martinez, CEO, battling a losing battle for the first time in months. I'm just Elle, alive, and wanted.
A few hours later, my head resting on his chest and his arm encircling me, we lie entangled in the sheets. He has a steady, grounding heartbeat. His voice is heavy with sleep as he murmurs, "I don't want this to end."
Even though the words hurt, I say, "It has to." "Remember, one night?" I know I'm lying to myself, though, even as I say it. This seems too profound, too real.
He gives me a long, gentle kiss on the forehead. "What if it's not just that?"
I can't, so I don't respond. I pretend that we can remain this way indefinitely as I close my eyes and allow his warmth to soothe me to sleep.
I'm startled awake by a loud knock on the door. Beside me, Alex stiffens, his arm clenched in defence. The knock is louder and more persistent this time. A low, threatening voice calls through the door. "Open the door, Alexander. We are aware that she is inside.
I feel cold. Marcus Kane is here.
At the door, Marcus Kane threatens to reveal Elena and Alexander's night together
, possibly ruining their businesses and reputations.
- Writer
