Chapter Four: The Aftermath
1504 Words
The hotel suite was dim and quiet, lit only by the soft glow from a bedside lamp left on low.
They stared at each other confused.
His brows pulled together as he tried to make sense of her face.
“Who are you?” he asked again,His voice was deep and hoarse.
She blinked,trying to get up but she felt weak.
“I… I’m not sure,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I thought this was my room…”
“It’s not,” he said, stopping short, his shoulders tense. He looked around, trying to make sense of it.
“I don’t even know what’s going on… Did you follow me? Or… did someone send you here?”
Her hand went to her forehead. “No, I… I don’t know. I don’t even remember getting here. I feel strange…”
“Ill leave now”
She reached out to steady herself against the wall. Santiago stepped closer without thinking. Her dress slipped off one shoulder, and her face went warm with embarrassment. He hesitated, then reached out and gently pulled the strap back up. His fingers brushed her skin just for a second but it was enough to make them both go still, caught off guard by the unexpected closeness.
“I shouldn’t…” he murmured, voice low, strained.
“Me neither…” she breathed, almost like she didn’t trust her own words.
But they didn’t move away.
Whatever they’d been given had messed with their heads. They weren’t thinking straight just acting. Santiago reached up and touched her face, like he was trying to make sure she was real. She didn’t pull back. She leaned in.
They kissed. It started slow and awkward, but it didn’t stay that way. It turned fast, heated. Clothes came off without care buttons popped, zippers dragged down. They ended up on the bed, clumsy, out of sync but too far gone to stop.
It wasn’t romantic. It was messy. They didn’t talk, just kept going, caught in the moment.
The night passed like a blur. Nothing felt clear. But they didn’t stop.
Morning.
Sunlight hit her face, way too bright. Isabela groaned and rolled over, her head pounding. Everything felt off her body sore in ways she didn’t expect.
She opened her eyes slowly. This wasn’t her ceiling. The room was way too clean, way too quiet. Not hers.
Then she felt it the sheets, the smell, the warmth next to her.
She looked down. Her dress was falling off one shoulder. Her bra was gone. Her legs were bare.
Her stomach dropped.
She turned her head and froze.
Santiago was lying next to her, half-asleep. His arm was still around her waist. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He looked calm until he wasn’t.
Isabela let out a sharp gasp and scrambled out of the bed, pulling the sheet with her. The sudden movement woke him up.
“What the hell?” he muttered, pushing himself up on one elbow, squinting. His eyes landed on her, and his face shifted,confused, then alarmed.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my bed?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing!” she snapped, clutching the sheets tighter around herself.
“I don’t even know who you are!”
She fumbled for her dress on the floor, hands shaking. “Isabela. My name’s Isabela. And I didn’t come here on purpose—I can’t remember anything after the toast.”
Santiago sat up and dragged a hand down his face. “I think someone drugged me. My drink—something was off. Did it happen to you too?”
“Yes! Obviously!” Her voice cracked. “This isn’t me. I don’t do stuff like this. Ever.”
She looked at the man beside her more closely.
“OMG! You are Santiago Valdes Montero.im in so much trouble,I have to leave now.
He stood up and grabbed his pants, pulling them on in a hurry. “Look, I don’t know what happened either, but I swear I’d never take advantage of anyone. Whatever this was… it wasn’t on purpose. I’m not that guy.”
“You think that makes it okay?” Her voice cracked, and her eyes were wide, shaken. “You were a complete stranger! I woke up half-naked in your bed!”
“I’m not saying it’s okay!” he shot back. “You think this is something I wanted? You think I’m cool with waking up not remembering a damn thing—with someone I’ve never even met before?”
They stared at each other from opposite sides of the room both half-dressed, confused, angry, and scared.
Then after a tense pause, Santiago exhaled, his voice quieter.
“I don’t know who did this to us, but I’m going to figure it out.”
Isabela’s hand hovered over the door handle, her chest rising and falling fast. “I just… I need to get out of here.”
She pulled the door open.
Flashes hit her like a wall.
Cameras. Everywhere. Dozens of reporters packed the hallway, shouting over each other.
“ Are you dating Santiago Montero ?”
“Did you spend the night here with him?”
“Are you two a couple now?”
“Were you drunk last night?”
“Did you sleep together?”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Were you invited or did you sneak in?”
“Are you trying to trap him?”
“Are you after his money?”
“Is this a PR stunt?”
“Is Santiago cheating on someone?”
“Why are you hiding your face?”
“Are you pregnant?”
“Did you know the cameras would be here?”
“His he truly Cold?”
“Do you even know him?”
“Does The Grim actually fall inlove?”
“Are you being paid to be here?”
The shouting blurred together. Isabela froze, eyes wide, backing into the room and slamming the door shut.
Her hands shook. Her whole body did.
Isabela leaned against the door, her chest rising and falling like she’d just run a marathon. Her hands were still shaking.
Santiago stood frozen for a second, then ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell was that?”
“Paparazzi,” she said, her voice flat, like she couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.
“They know who you are. Of course they were waiting.”
He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and started typing. “They weren’t supposed to be here. No one knew I was staying in this suite except my secretary.”
“Well, apparently someone did,” she snapped.
Santiago looked up, jaw tight. “I just called my head of security. They’re on their way up to clear the hallway and take care of anyone with a camera.”
“Great,” she muttered. “That fixes everything.”
He ignored the sarcasm and rolled his eyes.
Isabela turned to him, frustrated tears building in her eyes. “You don’t get it. I’m not some influencer or celebrity or whatever. I’m a fashion designer a struggling one at that. This… this could ruin me. People will assume the worst.”
Santiago sighed, leaning against the wall. “You think I’m proud of this? You think I wanted to be caught in this mess with someone I didn’t even know?”
They didn’t say anything for a while. Then there was a knock at the door. Santiago opened it slightly, spoke quietly to a tall guy in a black suit, then shut it again.
“My guy’s here. He’s going to walk you out through the service entrance. The press are gone.”
Isabela nodded slowly, “Thanks”.
Santiago waited by the door, not saying much. As she walked past him.
The security guy walked her fast and silent through a maze of service hallways and back doors until they reached the parking lot.
She spotted a cab at the curb, climbed in quickly, and gave the driver her address with a tired sigh.
He nodded and started driving.
The ride was quiet. Her phone buzzed nonstop calls, texts, social media notifications but she didn’t check it. She didn’t want to know what was being said.
The driver glanced over and said, “Ma’am, we’re here.”
Isabela blinked, momentarily lost in her thoughts. It took her a second to realize where she was. She shook her head.
“Oh, right. Thanks,” she said softly, pulling out her card to pay him.
She barely had one foot on the sidewalk when the front door slammed open.
Her mom stormed out, dragging a suitcase behind her.
“Pick that up, Isabela!” she yelled, voice trembling with anger. “You really thought I wouldn’t see the news? You’re everywhere!”
Isabela just stood there, stunned, her mouth hanging open.
- Writer
