Mr Charming
1283 Words
My heels nearly snapped off as I scrambled to my feet, grabbing whatever access cards I could lay my hands on.
The sound of my hurried footsteps wasn’t particularly loud. It blended into the surrounding chatter of the lobby so naturally that I barely noticed it myself.
Then why was everyone staring at me?
I had tried my best not to look tense. I even took a second to smooth down my hair and walk in what I hoped was a graceful hurry.
Apparently, I was failing.
“Naomi Hale, what’s the matter?”
The chief of security rushed toward me from the far end of the lobby where he had been making his rounds.
Along with him, several guards immediately began moving in my direction.
And in that moment, I caught sight of a security camera slowly turning toward me.
Ah, s**t.
My stomach dropped.
It seemed the security team had noticed the figure on the monitor too.
“Don’t worry, Mark,” I stuttered between breaths. “You can go. I just forgot something... cooking on the heat.”
On the heat?
What on earth was I saying?
Even I cringed at how ridiculous that sounded.
“Are you sure everything’s fine, ma’am? You look tense.”
His voice carried across the lobby as I continued walking.
Faster.
Believe me.
Please believe me.
My thoughts were complete chaos.
“Yes, it’s all good,” I replied with a strained smile.
I was almost at the elevator when disaster struck.
One second I was weaving through luggage, guests, and hotel staff.
The next—
“Oh s**t!”
My knee rammed directly into a small girl holding hands with her parents.
I recognized her immediately.
She was the same little girl I had seen earlier, happily chewing cotton candy while watching Miss Gulliver’s dramatic performance.
The world tilted.
The bright lobby lights blurred together above me.
Circular shapes filled my vision.
At first, I thought they were part of the ceiling design.
Then the circles started talking.
“Oh, she’s awake!”
The voice pierced through the haze.
“Oh shit.”
I sat upright immediately.
“Take it easy, ma’am.”
“We’ve already called the medics.”
“They’re on their way.”
"Leave me alone!"
The words exploded out of me before I could stop them.
A group of young staff members immediately stepped back.
My head throbbed. My palms were scraped. It seemed I had hit the floor hard after colliding with the little girl.
I didn't care.
Without wasting another second, I pushed myself up and rushed forward again.
I shoved past luggage.
Guests.
Anyone standing in my way.
I didn’t care what my hair looked like anymore.
Didn’t care how ridiculous I appeared.
“Ms Hale! Your shoes!”
Ariana’s voice followed behind me.
“f**k the shoes,” I muttered.
Thankfully, the elevator doors were still open.
Well...
Almost.
They had just begun sliding shut when I slipped inside.
Several occupants gasped.
The rest stared.
Honestly, their stares could have killed.
Just say it.
Call me a madwoman.
I’m aware.
Silence settled inside the elevator.
Then someone’s phone suddenly blared a news broadcast.
“Coming up next: Police establish special new measures to capture the notorious serial killer known as Suicide—”
The rest faded into background noise.
My mind caught only two words.
Serial killer.
My brows furrowed.
My heartbeat became so loud I could hear it.
Feel it.
My feet vibrated against the elevator floor as a cold chill crept down my spine.
It was a bad feeling.
A very bad feeling.
My thoughts drifted back to the figure on the monitor.
What was he doing?
Why was he heading toward Pantheon 99?
Then another face appeared in my mind.
The charming visitor who had somehow managed to make me smile earlier.
I hope he’s okay.
The thought came uninvited.
And then something clicked.
Slowly.
Terribly.
The killer from the news.
The suspicious figure on the cameras.
Victor waiting upstairs.
A dark realization settled over me.
Is Victor the target?
That strange feeling of anticipation I had experienced earlier resurfaced.
Slow.
Ugly.
Shameful.
“No.”
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
“That’s not right.”
“Excuse me, miss. Are you alright?”
A woman’s voice broke through my thoughts.
Only then did I realize I had spoken aloud.
Again.
I nodded immediately.
My anxiety had reached a level where even I knew it was becoming obvious.
Finally, the elevator doors opened.
It took every ounce of patience I possessed not to shove my way through the slowly exiting crowd.
Instead, under the guise of a startled, slightly tipsy woman, I hurried toward our suite.
I abandoned the elevator entirely once I reached the upper floors.
The remaining wait felt unbearable.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I raced upward, my pulse pounding so hard it drowned out every other sound around me.
When I finally burst into the Pantheon hallway, I nearly stumbled to a stop.
Luxury stretched endlessly before me.
Soft golden chandeliers cast warm pools of light across polished marble floors.
Expensive artwork lined the walls.
Floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the city skyline in all its glittering glory.
The entire corridor looked less like a hotel and more like a monument dedicated to wealth.
But I wasn’t there to admire any of it.
A horrible thought gripped me.
Was I too late?
My eyes immediately found the only suite door at the end of the hallway.
Pantheon 99. Opened.
Then I heard a scream.
My stomach dropped.
“Wait—please! You don’t have to do this! Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it. Triple it. Just name your price!”
Victor.
Begging.
His voice cracked with desperation.
His eyes were full of tears.
For a brief second, I genuinely doubted what I was seeing.
Victor Hale.
The same man who slapped me almost daily.
The same man who treated everyone beneath him like dirt.
Begging.
Crying.
Terrified.
And the worst part?
I felt nothing.
No sympathy.
No remorse.
Nothing.
The girls were somewhere deeper inside the suite. I couldn’t see them from where I stood.
What I could see, however, was the man standing before Victor.
The killer.
I registered the details slowly, as though my mind was refusing to process them all at once.
Dark bangs falling across part of his face.
A casual outfit that did little to hide the athletic build beneath it.
The muzzle of his pistol fixed on Victor.
"No, no, no... please." Victor's voice cracked. "I have a wife. Please don't make her a widow. I have people who depend on me. Please."
He threw out whatever speech he thought might sound sentimental enough to save his life.
For the briefest moment, something shifted in the killer’s expression.
A crack.
A hesitation.
Or maybe I imagined it.
Maybe, just maybe, Victor could still be spared.
The thought left me feeling strangely dazed.
My legs threatened to give out beneath me, forcing me to grab the wall for support.
Could somebody wake me up from this dream?
Part of me wanted to scoff.
The hypocrisy of it all was almost laughable.
But no words came.
Fear held me frozen.
So did something else.
Something darker.
A shameful glee I didn’t want to acknowledge.
My hand flew to my mouth before I could stop it.
A gasp escaped.
For a split second, everything froze.
Then the killer shifted slightly.
Just enough.
His cold eyes locked onto mine.
There was no recognition in them.
My breath caught.
And then I saw his face clearly.
The charming guy from the reception.
- Writer
