A Few Days To Dawn

Aaagh! I fumbled through my hair as I grudgingly sank back into the chair. "Miss Gulliver, just a second," I had said an hour earlier while scrambling around the counter looking for something she was very obviously seeing already. "Oh dearie, take your time," she smirked, clicking her nails against the counter. Right. Because helping a struggling person would apparently end civilization. Her entourage were nothing short of annoying, all wrapped in feathery mink coats. "Don't flatter Mary Poppins, Vivienne," another chimed in. The rest immediately dissolved into waves of French chatter and laughter. Found it. Sitting by my side the entire time. Of course. "Found it," I sighed. "Hurrah, mémère," came the response, followed by a dramatic clap. Wonderful. Exactly what my morning needed. And somehow, that wasn't even the worst part of my day. After all, I had dismissed the receptionist myself, wanting a moment to clear my head from the situation that had happened upstairs in our suite — Pantheon 99. Even thinking about it made my chest tighten. My fingers traced my lip gently. The bruise was there — carefully hidden under thick layers of lipstick. The moment replayed itself before I could stop it. Victor had known I was trying to sleep, yet he barged into the room accompanied by four girls. Whores. I screamed internally again, not wanting the rest of the hotel staff to see me as more deranged than they probably already thought I was. I had caught two waiters exchanging glances earlier. The kind people make when they feel sorry for someone but don't want to get involved. The image hurt more the longer I thought about it. He was kissing one while another had already begun pulling down his pants. The bitches saw me. I knew they did. Yet they completely ignored my existence. A sharp retort climbed to my lips, but I swallowed it, pulling the duvet tighter around myself while Victor continued his usual annoyance. “Should we order room service?” one of them asked Victor, stepping over the duvet I had wrapped around myself. I had thought about every single response in my head so many times that my mind had gone completely blank. What could I do? What could I say? Smack! My thoughts shattered. Pain exploded across my face so sharply it felt as if my entire being vibrated from it. "Can't you read the room? Get out, you fool." Victor Hale. My husband. He had hit me for the sixth time today. I had started counting somewhere around the third, without realising it. He didn't seem to care about the whores mocking me with their stares and laughter. He didn't care about the blood dripping from my split lip either. Trying my best not to cry out, I smiled softly at him. I had learned the hard way what the consequences would be otherwise. Crying made it worse. Arguing made it worse. Even looking too long in the wrong direction made it worse. So I smiled. I had gotten very good at smiling. My gaze lingered on his face. His eyes. His hair. Was this really the man I had promised myself I would learn to love? The tears began gathering again. But I snapped back the moment those lips— The same lips that had begged me to marry him. The same lips that had convinced me despite already having me trapped through a family contract— Those same lips began nibbling on one of the girl's chest as she looked at me. "Ahhhhh" she moaned. Another pressed herself against him, deliberately, slowly, making sure I saw every second of it. Grabbing my gown, I rushed out. The waiter I nearly collided with jumped in fright as I hurried past him, searching for any corner. Anywhere. Anywhere that was empty enough for me to properly change. Wouldn't that be ironic? Victor Hale. Owner of the Blackthorne Hotel. And his wife was terrified of room occupants. Terrified of sounds. Reduced to searching for dark corners just to change clothes. To gasping in fear from opening doors. I blinked hard. My nails dug into my palm without realising it. I turned toward the second monitor, briefly glancing at the television wall nearby. "Suicide strikes again." For heaven’s sake, don't they air anything else? It was some repeated news report about an assassin targeting higher-ups. Blah. Blah. Blah. I stared at the floor, silently drowning in my own thoughts. Getting up from the reception chair, I let myself absorb the lobby. It was cool and quiet, nothing like the suite upstairs where the air had gone hot and wrong. "Hello?" I blinked. "Hello?" "Huh?" "Oh my God—I'm sorry." I quickly began fixing myself, my thoughts scrambling into complete chaos. The owner of the voice stood right in front of me, dressed casually. Wait. “Was I thinking out loud?” Again? One more person thinking I was stupid. Not exactly new. I sighed internally. "Loud and clear." He smiled. "That was what got my attention." His smile felt warm. Too warm. "I got so hooked that I had to give you a five-minute break before bringing you back." "Oh please," I laughed. Wait. Did I just laugh? "So tell me..." he continued, leaning against the counter slightly. "What is a lady of your caliber doing at a reception desk? I'm pretty sure you aren't a receptionist." "Well..." I started. "I needed fresh air once in a while, you know." He chuckled. "I can imagine. A girl needs escape from some people." He made a playful gesture with his hand. He winked. I couldn't help it. I laughed. A genuine one. "You have a reservation, I guess?" I managed between breaths. "Yes." He handed me his reservation card. I typed it in. I noticed his eyes twitched while glancing at the TV, before bringing his attention to me. At least I’m not the only one noticing this headline. I chuckled internally. It felt good to know someone else shared the same thought. "Suite LaCruz." I read from the monitor before handing him his access card. He didn't take it. Instead, he leaned closer. "Can I get a duplicate card instead?" I blinked. The question caught me off guard. I glanced behind him. No one. "I have a friend on her way." I smiled politely and duplicated the card, handing both to him. It hurt a little. Yes. It did. Even brief happiness had a habit of disappearing right after showing itself. "What's the most romantic place in the hotel you could recommend to a guy like me?" he asked while lifting his bag. "You're asking me?" I joked. "I'm not exactly the romance type." "Don't say that." He laughed and started walking away. "Wait! You forgot your card!" He walked back. Reaching over the counter, I handed it to him. He took only one. I looked at the other. "That's for my friend." Then he smiled. "Whose name I don't know yet." My face suddenly felt warm. "I'm Naomi..." I smiled, feeling heat creep into my face before I could stop it. "You are?" "Well," he teased, slowly picking up his bag, "that's a good enough reason for my friend to stop by." "Have a lovely day, Grace.” He winked. I stared after him. His black bangs fell effortlessly over his forehead. He was tall. Taller than Victor. Not as bulky, but— Wait. Why was I comparing him to Victor? I lightly smacked my forehead. But seriously... I frowned. My fingers immediately flew to my dress. Name tag? Nothing. Slowly, my eyes lifted toward the lobby where he had disappeared. My baptism name. How in heaven’s name did he know my baptism name?