Chapter 2: A Stranger’s Claim
1329 Words
“What the hell are you doing in my room?!” Beauty snapped, her voice cracking as she tightened the blanket around her trembling body. Her face burned so hot it felt like her skin might peel off.
The man didn’t even flinch. He leaned against the door frame with maddening calm, hands tucked casually in his pockets, that cold smirk still resting on his lips. “Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Beauty’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”
He tilted his head, eyes sweeping over her like he had all the time in the world. “This is my room.”
Her throat went dry. “No, it’s not. I booked it. I paid for it. I have the receipt.” She hugged the blanket tighter, wishing the ground would swallow her whole. God, she’d been moaning like a p**n star two minutes ago. How much had he heard?
The man pushed off the door frame and walked farther inside, his shoes clicking softly against the floor. Each step made her pulse spike. She shrank back against the pillows.
“Don’t come closer!” she blurted. “I’ll… I’ll scream.”
One brow arched, amused. “You already were.”
Her stomach twisted, mortification swallowing her whole. “You…!” She couldn’t even form the words.
He stopped by the desk, pulled a sleek black phone from his pocket, and tapped the screen. “Here.” He held it up without moving closer. “Reservation confirmation. Room 508. Tonight. Three nights.”
Beauty blinked. Her breath hitched.
No. No, no, no. That was her room number.
Heart hammering, she fumbled for her phone on the nightstand, nearly dropping it as she pulled up her email. Her hands shook so hard she could barely read the screen, but there it was… same number, same nights.
Her stomach dropped to the floor.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered.
The man tucked his phone away, calm as ever. “Hotel must’ve screwed up.”
Beauty stared at him, her pulse racing. “So what, you just walk in without knocking?!”
He gave her a dry look. “It’s my room. Why would I knock?”
Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. God, she wanted to throw something at his perfect, smug face. “Well, I was here first. So you can just… just go back to the front desk and fix it!”
He shrugged out of his jacket, draping it neatly over the chair. The motion made his shoulders strain against the fabric of his shirt, and Beauty cursed herself for noticing. “You can go if you’d like. I’m not leaving.”
Her blanket slipped slightly as she shot up straighter, and she yanked it higher with a hiss. “What do you mean you’re not leaving?!”
“I mean,” he said calmly, loosening his tie, “this is my room. And judging by the receptionist’s earlier panic when I checked in late, I’d guess the hotel’s fully booked. Unless you’d like to sleep in the lobby?”
Her jaw tightened. “You.. arrogant…”
He glanced at her, unbothered. “Relax. I’m not interested in whatever… performance you were in the middle of.” That damn smirk returned. “At least, not unless you invite me.”
Beauty’s face nearly exploded with heat. “Shut up!”
He chuckled under his breath, then unbuttoned his cuffs with slow precision, rolling his sleeves to his forearms. Beauty tried not to stare. Tried and failed.
Her body betrayed her, remembering too clearly the high she’d been chasing before he barged in. She squeezed her thighs together under the blanket, furious at herself. How could she still feel anything with him standing there, mocking her?
She cleared her throat, trying to sound firm. “Fine. We’ll both stay. But don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t… don’t breathe near me.”
He lowered himself into the chair, legs stretching out like he owned the entire space. “Deal.”
Silence fell, thick and heavy. Beauty’s heart still pounded as she shifted under the blanket. Every small sound… the rustle of fabric, the click of his watch against the armrest, the faint exhale he let out… seemed deafening.
She hated it. Hated the tension coiling in her chest. Hated the way he seemed so composed, while she sat there like some flustered i***t.
When she dared a glance, he was watching her. Not openly staring, but with the corner of his eyes, like she was just another curiosity.
“What?” she snapped.
He smirked. “You’re awfully defensive for someone wrapped like a burrito.”
Her mouth fell open. “I swear, if you don’t shut that arrogant mouth…”
“Alright,” he interrupted smoothly, leaning forward to pick up a sleek leather case from his bag. He set it on the desk, opened it, and pulled out… a deck of cards.
Beauty blinked. “Seriously?”
He shuffled with practiced ease, the soft slap of cards against the desk filling the silence. “We’ve got hours to kill. Might as well make it interesting.”
She clutched the blanket tighter. “I don’t play cards with strangers.”
He leaned back, still shuffling. “Then let’s not be strangers. I’m Marcello”
She rolled her eyes. “Congratulations.”
He smirked. “And you are?”
She hesitated, then muttered, “Beauty.”
His brows lifted slightly. “Fitting.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Shut up.”
Mercello smirked again, tapping the deck against his palm. “So, Beauty, what’ll it be? Cards, or more of your… private show?”
She wanted to scream. Or hit him. Or both. “You’re insufferable.”
“Maybe. But I’m offering you a distraction.” He dealt a few cards onto the desk, his movements smooth and precise. “What do you say?”
She stared at him, torn between pride and curiosity. Anything was better than sitting here stewing in silence, replaying the image of her cousin and her ex in bed.
“Fine,” she muttered, throwing the blanket aside just enough to slide off the bed. She snatched one of the chairs, dragging it across the floor. “One game. And then you shut up.”
His smirk deepened. “Deal.”
She sat across from him, folding her arms as he slid cards her way.
They played. She lost the first round. Then the second. Her frustration mounted with every hand.
Marcello leaned back in his chair, watching her with lazy amusement. “You’re terrible at this.”
She glared daggers. “I’m just warming up.”
He tapped the deck thoughtfully, then tilted his head. “Maybe we need higher stakes.”
Beauty narrowed her eyes. “What kind of stakes?”
His smirk sharpened, eyes glinting. “Strip poker.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Afraid you’ll lose?”
Her pride flared hot in her chest. “No!”
“Then prove it.”
Her pulse skipped. God, he was infuriating. But the challenge in his voice wrapped around her like a chain. She couldn’t back down now… not when he was so sure of himself.
“Fine,” she spat. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”
His gaze lingered on her, slow and deliberate. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He shuffled again, dealing the cards with that maddening calm. Beauty gripped hers tightly, praying for a win.
Her stomach dropped as she realized she’d lost the hand before she even laid the cards down.
Marcello leaned back, eyes glinting with triumph. “Your move.”
Her breath caught. Heat rushed through her all over again… anger, humiliation, the leftover spark of arousal she couldn’t smother.
She clenched her jaw, fingers twitching toward the hem of her shirt.
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