Chapter Two: The Morning After
891 Words
The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, painting soft gold across the room. A faint hum of the city below drifted up to the penthouse suite, breaking the quiet stillness.
Claire stirred, her head pounding and throat dry. The sheets felt unfamiliar, too smooth, too expensive. She blinked once, then twice—until her gaze landed on the man sleeping beside her.
Her heart nearly stopped.
He was lying on his back, one arm bent behind his head, dark hair slightly tousled, the other arm resting across his bare chest. His features were sharp and breathtakingly handsome, even in sleep—like something carved from stone.
But none of that mattered. What mattered was that she didn’t know him.
Claire sat up so fast that the blanket slipped down her shoulders. She gasped softly when she realized her dress was gone, replaced by one of his oversized shirts. Memories flickered like broken film—flashes of whiskey, laughter, then darkness.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, clutching the blanket to her chest.
She slid out of the bed carefully, her feet searching for her heels. Her bag was half-open on the floor, her phone lying beside it. She grabbed everything, glancing nervously at the man again.
He shifted slightly but didn’t wake. Thank God.
Her eyes darted toward the nightstand, where a small silver watch and a black wallet lay. The initials engraved on the leather caught her eye: A.B.
“A.B…?” she murmured, confused.
Then she froze. The name on the hotel’s welcome card read: Blake Executive Suite.
Her pulse spiked. Austin Blake. The Austin Blake—the man who owned Blake Enterprises. She’d seen his name in magazines, headlines, and social media, though she’d never cared much about billionaires and their drama.
And she had just—
“No, no, no…” she breathed, fighting the rising panic.
She stumbled toward the door, clutching her things. Her hand shook as she turned the knob and slipped out into the hallway.
Austin woke minutes later, groaning softly as the sunlight hit his face. His head throbbed from the alcohol, but it wasn’t the hangover that caught his attention—it was the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the room.
He sat up, eyes narrowing as he scanned the bed. The sheets were ruffled, the pillow beside him slightly indented. For a second, he thought it was a dream. But then he saw it—a single gold earring glinting on the nightstand.
“What the hell…” he muttered under his breath.
He pressed a hand to his temple, trying to recall the night before. He remembered his meeting, the drinks with clients, the exhaustion. Then—nothing. Just fragments of a soft voice and the feel of warmth beside him.
Austin Blake was not the kind of man who made reckless mistakes. Yet something told him last night hadn’t been ordinary.
“Damien,” he called.
Moments later, his assistant entered, holding a tablet and looking as composed as ever.
“Yes, sir?”
“Who else had access to this floor last night?” Austin asked.
Damien blinked. “No one besides hotel staff, sir. Why?”
Austin exhaled slowly, picking up the earring. “Because someone was here. Find out who she was.”
Claire spent the rest of the morning scrubbing the bakery counter as if she could wash away her guilt. The clinking of trays and the smell of yeast usually calmed her, but not today. Her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing.
What have I done?
Her mother noticed her distracted expression. “Claire, sweetheart, are you alright?”
Claire forced a smile. “I’m fine, Mom. Just… tired.”
She turned to the oven, pretending to check the bread. Her phone buzzed on the counter. It was her best friend, Tina.
Tina: You disappeared last night! Where did you go?
Claire: Long story. I’ll tell you later.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, then she added:
Claire: Just promise me you won’t freak out.
Meanwhile, Austin’s office was unusually quiet that afternoon. He sat behind his massive oak desk, staring at the earring on his palm. The city skyline stretched endlessly behind him, but his mind was elsewhere.
Damien returned, clearing his throat. “Sir, I reviewed the hotel security footage. It seems a woman accidentally entered your suite around 11:40 p.m. She appeared… intoxicated.”
Austin raised a brow. “Accidentally?”
“Yes, sir. The footage shows her checking a key card before entering your room. She stayed the night and left around 7 a.m.”
Austin leaned back, intrigued. “Do you have a clear image of her face?”
“Partially. I’ve already begun tracing her. We should have her identity by tomorrow.”
Austin nodded, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Good. Find her.”
He didn’t know why he cared. Maybe it was curiosity—or maybe, deep down, something about that night felt unfinished.
Claire looked out the bakery window as the rain began to fall, droplets sliding down the glass like silent tears. She didn’t know that across the city, the man she’d accidentally shared a night with was already searching for her name.
And once he found her, nothing in her quiet little life would ever be the same again.
- Writer
