Burning Rancor 18+

Seven

When my eyes finally forced themselves open, the world violently shattered. I felt like I had been hit squarely by a freight truck, every single bone in my body aching with a deep, hollow resonance. My head was splitting open, a sharp, white-hot spike of pain driving directly behind my eyes with every throb of my pulse.

I blinked against the stark, bright light, realizing I wasn't on the hard leather couch of Mason's office, nor was I in my cramped, dark bedroom at home. I was lying in an impossibly soft, king-sized bed wrapped in crisp, high-thread-count white linens. A luxury hotel room.

The memory of the bar, the predatory man, and the horrifying, helpless fog of the spiked drink rushed back into my mind. Panic suddenly seized my throat.

Fearing the absolute worst, my hands instantly flew to my body, frantically tapping down my torso, my legs, my waist. My breath hitched in a ragged sob until I realized I was still fully dressed. My crumpled work blouse was still buttoned, and my skirt was intact. A heavy, suffocating wave of relief washed over me, so intense it made my dizzy head spin even faster. Nothing had been done to me while I was out cold. I was safe.

After confirming my safety, I slowly sat up, gripping the edge of the mattress as the room stabilized. That was when I noticed the small dining table near the window. A silver tray sat upon it, carrying a beautifully arranged breakfast spread. A fresh dome of steam was gently rising from the porcelain plate, carrying the rich scent of toasted bread and melted butter. It hadn't been sitting there for long.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice cracking, sounding incredibly small and raspy in the vast, quiet suite.

No one answered. The silence of the room was heavy, almost sacred. I stared at the steaming food, my stomach twisting. This lavish room, this perfect breakfast- these were luxury amenities that I could never, ever afford on my meager, penalized salary. This wasn't a random stroke of luck. This had been meticulously orchestrated by someone, but no matter how many times I hesitantly called out into the suite, the only response was the faint hum of the central air conditioning.

An immense sense of unease settled into my chest. I couldn't just sit here and pretend I belonged in a place like this. Hesitantly, I swung my legs out of the bed, slipped into my stiff heels, and decided to head downstairs to check out. I wasn't going to touch that food. I wasn't going to eat something provided by a mysterious benefactor whose intentions I didn't know. I had been burned too many times to trust a free meal.

Gathering my purse, I walked out of the room and rode the quiet, mirrored elevator down to the lobby. When I approached the grand, marble-topped reception desk, the woman and the man behind the counter instantly ceased their conversation, looking up to smile at me with genuine, polite warmth. It was a bizarre contrast to the icy, invisible treatment I had received from the secretaries all week.

“I'm... I'm here to check out,” I stuttered, my fingers tightly gripping the strap of my purse.

The receptionist nodded kindly, her fingers immediately starting to click rapidly at her keyboard.

“Of course, ma'am. What is your name?”

“Ava,” I said softly, clearing my throat.

The woman’s eyes scanned the monitor for a moment before she paused, looking up at me with a mild expression of confusion. “As I can see here, your room was actually booked and fully paid for a duration of three days. Do you really want to check out early?”

“What?” I stared at her, completely losing my train of thought. I had no idea how to react to that information. Three days? Whoever had rescued me from that predator and brought me to this sanctuary didn't just drop me off; they intended for me to stay here, completely sheltered from the world. If I checked out right now, what would happen to the reservation? Where would they go if they came back to check on me?

Anxiously, my old habits flared up, and I began aggressively biting the skin around my thumbnails, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Ma'am?” the receptionist called out gently, her voice breaking through my spiraling thoughts.

“I'm sorry... I just zoned out a bit,” I breathed, forcing my hands down to my sides. I took a shallow breath, looking at her pleadingly. “Can I please know who I came with yesterday? I... I don't remember anything after a certain point last night.”

The woman’s expression softened instantly. I was shaking like a leaf right in front of her, and after taking in my disheveled appearance, the dark circles under my eyes, and the sheer terror radiating off my frame, I’m pretty sure she figured out exactly why I desperately needed that information. She probably assumed the worst.

“I wasn’t on the night shift when you checked in, ma'am,” she said, her tone turning incredibly gentle. “But if it’s urgent, let me quickly call my colleague who handles the late-night arrivals.”

She turned away, picking up the desk phone and dialing an internal extension. I watched her intensely, my chest tightening as she spoke in low murmurs, nodding her head repeatedly as she gathered the details. Finally, she hung up the receiver and turned back to me with a reassuring smile.

“Ma'am, you were brought in last night by one of our senior corporate relationship managers, a woman named Sarah. She personally booked the room for you, ensured you were settled in safely, and she has already completely covered the bill for absolutely everything you could possibly need for the next three days.”

A massive, profound sigh of relief left my lips, my shoulders visibly dropping. Thank God. I was brought in by a woman. The lingering terror of the predator from the bar finally began to dissipate, knowing a kind, capable woman had been the one to shield me from the dark.

I looked at the receptionist again, my mind warring with itself. Part of me still felt like an intruder, wanting to flee back to my safe corner, but then I remembered that the room was already entirely paid off. If I checked out now, the reservation would just go to waste, effectively throwing this helpful stranger's hard-earned money right into the trash.

But staying didn't mean I could just luxuriously sit around and eat free food. I still had my grueling job at the office, and looking at the grand clock on the lobby wall, I realized I was already running terribly late for the morning shift.

Before leaving the desk, I leaned forward. “Can you please arrange for me to meet Sarah today? Or give me her contact info? I really want to thank her personally for saving me.”

The receptionist blinked, an awkward, practiced customer-service smile slipping onto her face. “I’m afraid that would be quite hard, ma'am. Sarah handles high-profile corporate clients and is rarely on the floor. But... I can certainly relay a written message to her executive mailbox if you'd like?”

“Yes, please do that. Tell her I am immensely grateful,” I said.

Realizing I needed to gather my thoughts, I went back upstairs to the room, deciding to grab a quick bite of that breakfast before heading out to face the music at the office. The moment I sat down on the plush, velvet couch, a familiar sound echoed through the quiet suite.

Ping.

I looked over at the nightstand. My phone, which had been completely dead the night before, was plugged into a sleek charger, its battery fully restored. My nose suddenly tingled with a sharp, overwhelming surge of gratitude. Tears immediately rushed to my eyes. A total stranger had done all of this for me. They didn't just save me from an assault; they kept me safe, they fed me, and they even took the time to find my charger and plug in my phone so I wouldn't be disconnected from the world.

It felt like the first time in long, torturous years that anyone had shown me a shred of genuine, unselfish human kindness. My heart physically ached from the sheer weight of it. The contrast between this room and the venomous cruelty of my mother, the icy exile of the secretaries, and Mason’s brutal demeaning words was too much to bear.

A choked sob escaped my throat, and I broke down completely, weeping silently as I picked up the phone to check the source of the message.

The text was from Mason.

My blurred vision focused on the harsh, brief words across the screen: 'I am returning to the headquarters this morning, but I have absolutely no desire to see your face the moment I step into the office. Take the next two to three days off. Do not come to the executive floor until I command it.'

The tears fell directly onto the glass screen, smearing the ink of his name. I clutched the phone to my chest, my body shaking as I cried even harder, the sobs racking my fragile frame.

In that highly vulnerable, broken moment, my mind did something incredibly pathetic. I allowed myself to fall into a deep, desperate delusion. I told myself that maybe, just maybe, Mason was giving me this mandatory leave because he somehow knew how brutal and soul-crushing it had been for me down in the secretarial office. I deluded myself into thinking his harsh text was a warped, hidden form of protection- a way to keep me away from the stares and the whispers while he cleared the air. I needed to believe someone in my life wasn't trying to destroy me.

Sobbing uncontrollably, I dragged myself over to the dining table, pulling the silver dome off the breakfast tray.

Once I was finally done balling my eyes out, my tears drying into tight streaks on my cheeks, I forced myself to start eating. Because of the kindness woven into it, the breakfast tasted extra good to me- the best meal I had eaten in years. I gulped almost everything down, the warm food finally soothing the icy void in my stomach.

The heavy sedative from the night before was still lingering heavily in my bloodstream, and the emotional breakdown had drained whatever energy I had left. Crawling back into the massive, cloud-like bed, I pulled the heavy duvet over my shoulders and immediately went back to sleep, escaping reality once more.

Somewhere around noon, a faint, rhythmic rustling sound broke through my deep slumber. The distinct shuffle of footsteps against the carpet vibrated near the edge of the bed.

My eyes snapped open, my heart instantly leaping back into my throat as the peaceful oblivion vanished.

“Who’s there?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep, panic instantly flooding my system as I scrambled backward against the headboard, pulling the duvet up to my chin like a shield.

As the morning haze slowly cleared from my vision, my eyes focused on the figure standing squarely in the center of the luxury suite, watching me with an unreadable, intense expression.

It wasn't a stranger. It wasn't Sarah.

It was Mason.

~•~