CHAPTER 3
1026 Words
Something shifted inside me.
It wasn’t love. Not yet. But the start of something that could ruin me if I let it.
“It's a pleasure to have you, Mr. Rivera,” I whispered, and hung the garland around his neck.
His phone rang. His eyes still locked with mine, he answered.
“Hello? Can we talk later, please? I’m in the middle of something… yes, thank you.”
Then he slipped his phone into his pocket and smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I mumbled.
It was as though all the oxygen in the world had vanished into thin air, leaving me breathless under his gaze.
A faint smile curved his lips, and without saying another word, he continued into the ballroom.
After welcoming guests, my colleagues and I proceeded to the ballroom to serve drinks.
A symphony played as guests exchanged greetings and laughter. The air smelled of expensive perfume beneath the sparkles of the chandeliers.
I carried on, tray in hand and spotted him talking with a group of ladies.
Bitterness slid down my throat. What was that? Jealousy?
“Is that a champagne?” a couple asked.
“Yes,” I replied and presented the tray to them. They each picked up a glass and moved on.
I tried to focus on my job, but my eyes had a will of their own. They found him dancing with one of the ladies.
At last, the music ended, and they bowed to each other.
Alec Rivera walked to a corner and picked up a glass of wine from a server. Just as he was about to drink, his gaze met mine.
Heat pooled in my belly.
I couldn't look away. No—something in his gaze burned through me from across the room.
Reluctantly, he lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip, only to frown and glance at the drink. Then he clutched his stomach.
What was that?
A wave of curiosity washed through me as I watched him stagger out of the room.
I made to follow but bumped into a woman in her mid-fifties.
“I-I’m so sorry,” I stuttered.
“Oh, it's fine,” she drawled with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I mumbled, and hid my unease under the veil of professionalism. “Would you care for a drink?”
“No, no. But a friend of mine does need a little drink.”
Without warning, she grabbed my hand and headed for the door.
Part of me wanted to pull away, but remembered how much I needed this job. I couldn't afford to screw it up, hence I followed the strange lady down the exquisite hallway of Blue Ribbon Hotel until she stopped at a mahogany door.
“You won’t be needing this,” the woman said, and collected my tray.
“But, ma’am...”
She hushed and signaled me to go in.
My heart pounded.
With a deep breath, I stepped into the room and my eyes widened. Alec Rivera was sprawled on the floor, his back propped against the bed frame.
“Mr. Rivera!”
I darted to his side and dropped to my knees.
“That wasn't champagne,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Someone spiked it.”
His pupils were blown wide, unfocused. A sheen of sweat glided down his face.
“You need help,” I said, and stood, but he grabbed my wrist and thrust me against his body.
“Don't go,” he stuttered. “I— don't trust anyone.”
I froze. “Mr. Rivera?”
“I feel—” He sucked in a breath, jaw tightening. “Hot.”
His breathing grew heavier, erratic. Like his body couldn’t decide between collapsing and fighting.
Then his gaze locked onto mine.
Not clear.
Hungry—but confused.
“I can’t think straight,” he muttered. “Everything’s too much.”
His fingers brushed my arm—and he flinched slightly, like even that small contact sent something sharp through him.
“You feel...real,” he whispered.
His fingers touched my face, slower this time—uncertain, like he was grounding himself through me.
Then he kissed me.
“Alec…” I breathed, my hands hovering—unsure whether to push him away or hold him closer.
“Everything’s amplified,” he rasped against my lips. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
I should've pulled away.
I should've stood up. Left. Called for help.
This was wrong. I knew it was wrong.
But the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing anchoring him—made it impossible to walk away.
But I stayed.
Maybe because I wanted to feel cherished. Just once. Without consequence.
Adrenaline coursed through me as he traced kisses to my neck.
Not dominant.
Messy.
He paused—like even he didn’t know what he was about to do. Then something in him snapped.
Slowly, he pulled back and lowered me on the pouf.
He peeled off my hose and panties, and kissed my feet... my legs, thighs, until his tongue found me.
My back arched off the bed as I gasped.
“Oh, s**t!”
The tension built and built in my head, and then somewhere around there snapped.
While I unraveled with a toe-curling orgasm, he pushed into me too quickly—like control had slipped through his fingers.
My breath caught.
A moan slipped from my lips as I stretched to accommodate him.
He was massive.
Overwhelming.
Trembling.
The world slipped away as we moved as one.
When he finished, he slid to my side as silence set in.
Now what?
I stole a glance at him and he was asleep– or so I thought.
I turned to leave and his hands caught mine.
“Stay...please,” he pleaded.
Of course, there was nowhere else I'd rather be than his arms.
Smiling, I nestled on his chest and closed my eyes…
But sleep didn’t come easily. Not with the feeling that something had just gone terribly, irreversibly wrong.
What if this was a setup?
- Writer
