Room 104
990 Words
The room smelled like stale air and the harsh lemon scent they use in cheap motels to cover up the cigarette smoke. Roman pushed the door shut and immediately turned the deadbolt, the metal click echoing in the small space. He didn't sit down. Instead, he started moving through the room, his eyes scanning the smoke detector, the back of the television, and the gap under the nightstand.
"Roman, what are you doing?" I whispered. I stood by the door with my hood still pulled low over my face. My hands were shaking so hard I had to shove them into my pockets.
"Checking," he muttered. He checked the seal on the window and pulled the heavy, yellowed curtains shut until not even a sliver of the parking lot neon could get in. "Just stay back from the window."
He finally stopped, but he didn't look relaxed. He just sat in the wooden chair next to the bed, leaning his head back against the wall. He looked tired—not just the kind of tired you get from a long day, but the kind that sits deep in your bones.
"I'm going to wash up," I said, my voice barely a thread. I needed to get the smell of the rain and that lead-lined vault off my skin.
The shower was small and the water was barely lukewarm, but I stayed under it until my fingers pruned. When I came back out, wrapped in the thin motel towel and clutching my damp clothes, Roman hadn't moved. He was still in the chair, staring at the door like he was waiting for it to be kicked in.
I climbed into the bed, pulling the scratchy covers up to my chin. The silence in the room was worse than the noise of the city. Every time a car rumbled past on the highway outside, I jumped, my heart thumping against my ribs.
"Roman?" I whispered into the dark. "Come here. The chair looks miserable, and I... I don't want to be on this side of the room by myself. I'm scared."
He didn't argue. He got up and laid down on top of the covers on the other side of the bed. He didn't try to touch me, but just having his weight there made the room feel a little less like a trap. We laid there with our backs to each other, two people who had spent the last three years pretending the other didn't exist, now trapped in a ten-foot radius.
"Why didn't we just go back to the mansion?" I asked, my voice muffled by the pillow. "Marcus has the security. He has the gates. Why did you take me to your place first? Why are we even here?"
"Because Marcus doesn't do anything for free, Scarlett," Roman said. His voice was a low vibration in the mattress. "If we went back, he would have taken whatever was on that drone and used it. He would have turned your 'stalker' problem into a way to keep you under his thumb forever. I needed to get you away from his reach so I could think."
"But you said he doesn't use drones. You said it was someone else."
"Exactly. And if someone else is bypassing Reed Tech security to get to you, I need to know why. I don't trust Marcus, Scarlett. I know him. I know what he's capable of. You don't see it yet, but you will. I'm doing this for your sake."
"I don't understand," I whispered.
"You will later," he muttered. "Just sleep."
The room grew quiet again. I wanted to ask more, but the exhaustion was starting to pull at me. Just as I was drifting off, I heard him speak one more time, his voice so soft I almost thought I imagined it.
"Do you remember the night I finally asked you out?" he asked. "Three years ago. We were standing by the lake. I was so nervous I could barely breathe."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. Thinking about that night—about the way he’d tasted like peppermint and nerves when he first kissed me—hurt too much. I kept my back to him and let the silence stay.
When I woke up, the room was gray with the first light of morning. I wasn't on my side anymore. Somewhere in the night, I’d rolled over, seeking the warmth. I was tucked firmly into the curve of Roman’s body, my head resting on his shoulder. His arm was draped over my waist, and when I looked up, his eyes were already open.
He was looking at me with an expression I hadn't seen since we were eighteen. The "Blacklisted King" was gone. For a second, the last twenty-four hours vanished. The cameras, the drone, the fact that our parents were married—it all just blurred out.
The air between us felt thick, charged with a tension that was different from the fear. His gaze dropped to my lips, and his hand moved slightly on my waist, pulling me a fraction closer. I didn't pull away. I couldn't. My heart was racing for a completely different reason now.
He started to lean in, his breath warm against my skin. I closed my eyes, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, waiting for the crash—
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The sound of the door being hammered made us both bolt upright. The spell didn't just break; it shattered.
"Mr. Reed!" A voice boomed from the other side. It wasn't the police. It was Marcus’s lead security guard. "We know you're in there. Your father wants you home. Now."
Roman’s face went cold in an instant. He looked at the door, then back at me, his jaw tightening as the mask slid back into place. The moment was gone.
"Get your shoes, Scarlett," he said, his voice flat. "The dream is over."
- Writer
