THE GUEST ROOM
979 Words
Chapter 4:
The driver didn’t speak the whole ride.
Blackwood Tower loomed ahead. 45 floors of glass and money. The penthouse took up the entire top floor.
“Miss Cole,” the driver said as he opened my door. “Mr. Blackwood’s orders. Guest room is ready. Dinner at 7am sharp if you want to attend meetings.”
“Right.” My voice sounded small.
The elevator needed a keycard. Damien’s keycard. It was waiting on the console table with a note in sharp, angry handwriting:
_45th floor. Left door. Don’t snoop. -D_
My fingers trembled opening the door.
The guest room was bigger than the apartment I rented for 3 years. King bed, walk-in closet, balcony facing Lagos skyline. Everything white and silver. Cold. Like him.
But the air smelled like him. Pine and storm. Because his scent was everywhere.
I dumped my bag. Locked the door. Pressed my back against it.
1 month. I could do 1 month.
That night, the nightmares came.
I was 18 again. Under the full moon. 300 wolves watching. Damien’s voice: “I, Alpha Damien Blackwood, reject you, Favour Cole.” The bond snapping like glass. Pain tearing through my chest.
I woke up screaming. Sweat soaked. 2am.
A knock. Then his voice, rough with sleep: “Favour? You okay?”
“Go away.”
Silence. Then: “Door’s unlocked.”
It wasn’t. But I heard his footsteps stop outside. Heard him breathe. Waiting.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“Your wolf is crying,” he said through the door. “I can hear her.”
My chest tightened. “You don’t get to care.”
“I know.” A pause. “Nightmares used to hit you after full moons too. I’d sit outside your door till you slept.”
He remembered.
I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed where he couldn’t hear.
---
8am. I wore black. Professional armor. No makeup. No jewelry. Nothing that made me look soft.
Damien was already at the kitchen island. Coffee, eggs, toast. He looked worse than me. Dark circles under his silver eyes. Like he hadn’t slept either.
“Morning,” he said without looking up.
I grabbed coffee. Didn’t eat. “Meeting schedule?”
“9am board. 11am investor call. 2pm site visit.” He slid a tablet across the island. “Your notes from yesterday. I typed them up.”
He’d stayed up typing my messy notes?
“Don’t be nice to me,” I snapped. “It’s confusing.”
“Noted.” Finally he looked at me. “You didn’t eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You always skip breakfast when you’re stressed.” He pushed the plate toward me. “Eat, Favour.”
My wolf whined at the old nickname. The one only he used.
I took one bite. Then another. He watched like it was the most important thing in the world.
The doorbell rang.
A woman walked in. Designer dress, red lips, perfume that cost more than my car.
“Damien, baby,” she purred. “You didn’t tell me we had a guest.”
His whole body went rigid. “Vanessa. What are you doing here?”
“I missed you.” She kissed his cheek. Didn’t see me. Or pretended not to. “The board meeting can wait 5 minutes, right?”
Fire exploded in my chest. Jealousy. Hot and ugly.
This was the daughter of another Alpha. The one his pack wanted him to choose 3 years ago instead of me.
“Who’s she?” Vanessa finally noticed me. Eyes raked over my plain black dress. Smirked. “New secretary? Cute.”
“Executive secretary,” Damien corrected. Voice like ice. “And she’s working.”
“Right.” Vanessa’s eyes narrowed. She saw it. The tension between us. The way he angled his body between her and me. “Tell me, sweetie, does Damien pay you overtime for late nights too?”
My cup hit the counter. Coffee sloshed.
“I don’t do over—”
“You do now,” Damien cut in. He stood. 6’3 of Alpha dominance aimed at Vanessa. “Meeting’s at 9. You’re not invited. Leave.”
Vanessa’s smile dropped. “Damien—”
“Now.”
She left. But not before giving me a look that said _I’ll destroy you_.
Silence.
Damien didn’t look at me. “Sorry about that.”
“For what? Protecting me?” The words came out bitter. “Don’t bother. I can handle women like her.”
“Can you?” He turned. Eyes searched my face. “Because your heartbeat just went crazy. And your scent…” He inhaled sharply. “Jealousy. Smells like cinnamon and fire.”
My face burned. “I’m not jealous. I hate you, remember?”
“Right.” He picked up the coffee cup I’d abandoned. His fingers brushed mine. “Hate. That’s what this is.”
The tablet buzzed. 8:55am. Board meeting in 5 minutes.
He walked past me to grab his suit jacket. Then stopped.
On the side table was a grey hoodie. Old. Faded. The one I’d left in his dorm room 3 years ago when I ran.
He picked it up slowly. Like it might burn him.
“Still have it,” he said quietly. Didn’t turn around. “After you left, I couldn’t throw it away. It smells like you. Honey and rain.”
He pressed it to his face for one second. Just one.
My heart shattered.
Then he folded it neatly and set it down. Mask back on.
“Meeting,” he said. Voice empty again. “Let’s go, Miss Cole.”
He walked out. Leaving the hoodie behind.
Leaving me wondering which was worse: his rejection 3 years ago… or this quiet, broken longing now.
_[End of Chapter 4 - To be continued…]_
- Writer
