Off The Record

Chapter 5

Violet stared at the coordinator, her eye twitching. "There has been a catastrophic mix-up. We are not a couple. We are professional acquaintances trapped in a mutual public relations nightmare. Separate rooms, please."

The coordinator blinked, completely unfazed, tapping brightly on her tablet screen. "Oh, absolutely not a problem! Though, protocol states that all promotional pairs for the documentary week are assigned the executive suites. And honestly? Fully booked today. Not a single spare pillow left in the entire lodge."

She flashed a blindingly cheerful customer service smile, handed them a single heavy brass keycard, and practically skipped back toward the glass double doors, calling out over her shoulder, "Enjoy your stay!"

The glass doors clicked shut, leaving Violet and Ezra standing alone in the expansive, sunlit foyer of the master suite.

Ezra immediately yanked his phone out of his pocket, his thumb flying across the screen as he dialed. He paced toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing the phone urgently to his ear.

"Hey. Yeah, it's me," Ezra barked into the line the moment someone picked up. "Look, there's been a massive oversight with the lodging. We've been put in a single suite. I need you to reassign—" He paused, pulling the phone away to stare at the screen in disbelief before pressing it back to his ear. "What do you mean, intern? You let a new hire handle the premiere booking roster?"

Violet crossed her arms, leaning back against the cool marble of the kitchen island while meticulously keeping her gaze locked anywhere except the massive king-sized bed visible through the sheer linen archway.

"No, I don't care that it's non-refundable," Ezra groaned into his phone, his voice pitching higher in pure exasperation.

"Just override the system. ... What do you mean, the database locked for maintenance until tomorrow morning? Are you serious?"

He ended the call with a sharp tap, letting out a long, defeated sigh as he turned back to face her.

"Let me guess," Violet said dryly, a corner of her mouth twitching despite herself. "The system is down, the intern is in witness protection, and we're officially stuck sharing a room with a king-sized mattress and zero escape routes."

Ezra ran a hand through his hair, offering a sheepish, lopsided grin that somehow managed to disarm half her annoyance. "Worse. Apparently, changing the room assignment requires manager approval, and the manager is currently unreachable at a conference off-grid until tomorrow afternoon."

The room grew very still, charged with the sudden, acute awareness of the four walls closing in around them. Violet looked past him, taking in the suite: the high ceilings, the minimalist luxury, and that enormous, undeniable bed.

"Besides," Violet added, walking over to pick up her ring light and setting it up near the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, "since we're stuck in this glorified glass cage, I might as well make productive use of the lighting. If I film a quick walkthrough of the terrace and a brief intro statement before the sun drops behind the hills, I'll have a solid follow-up post ready for tomorrow morning's algorithm."

Ezra pushed off the doorframe, watching her unpack her gear with a slow, amused shake of his head. "Always working, aren't you? No days off, even when trapped in professional purgatory."

"Someone has to maintain a professional standard around here," she shot back over her shoulder, her fingers deftly testing the tripod lock. "Otherwise, one of us would spend the entire week staring at a dead GPS and hyperventilating in an empty gas station."

A low, self-deprecating chuckle rumbled in Ezra's chest. He stepped further into the suite, hands sliding casually into his jacket pockets. "Point taken. I'll officially surrender the terrace to you. Do you want me to stay completely out of frame, or should I make a brief, highly scripted cameo so the internet doesn't start inventing wild conspiracy theories about why we're sharing an executive suite?"

Violet paused, her hand hovering over her camera mount as she glanced back at him. The thought of him in the frame—close, professional, yet carrying that quiet, lingering intensity from the car—sent an unexpected flicker of static straight down her spine.

"Keep it strictly solo," Violet said quickly, turning back to adjust her lens. "The less fuel for the internet rumor mill, the better. Go find yourself a corner and stay quiet."

"Your wish is my command," Ezra murmured smoothly, backing away toward the seating area with a small, knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Before Violet could finish setting up her gear, a violent flash of lightning tore across the sky outside, illuminating the glass windows in a brilliant, blinding streak of white. A split second later, a deafening crack of thunder shook the entire structure, instantly plunging the executive suite into pitch-black darkness as the smart grid died. The Wi-Fi router flickered out, and in the sudden, suffocating blackness, Violet found herself disoriented, stretching her hands out blindly in front of her to navigate the room.

"Careful," Ezra’s voice murmured from somewhere to her left, sounding entirely too close in the acoustic void. "The coffee table has sharp corners, and knowing our luck tonight, you'll walk right into a pillar."

"I can navigate just fine without your commentary," Violet shot back, taking a cautious step forward.

As she moved, her heel caught sharply against the edge of a stray rug. Her balance vanished instantly, and a sharp gasp tore from her throat as she tipped forward, expecting the hard impact of the floor. Instead, her hands collided hard against a solid, warm chest.

Strong hands instinctively caught her by the waist, steadying her momentum. The sudden collision sent a jolt straight up her arms, pressing her flush against Ezra in the dark. She could feel the rapid, heavy thud of his heartbeat beneath his shirt, matching the frantic rhythm of her own.

For a breathless second, neither of them moved, the storm outside fading into white noise against the blazing heat of unexpected contact.

"Found you," Ezra whispered, his voice dropping an octave, rougher and dangerously close against her hair.

I fell into his arms?