BABY

THE FINESSE (PT.2)

The shower was quick, hotter than it needed to be, just enough to clear my head and settle everything into something sharper. By the time I stepped out, I wasn’t thinking about whether this was a good idea anymore. I was thinking about how to make it work.

I took my time getting ready. Not rushed, not careless, just precise. Hair, makeup, details that didn’t matter until they did. I didn’t overdo it, just enough to look like I had somewhere to be and someone worth showing up for. Then I put the dress on.

It fit too well, which I chose to ignore. The fabric sat right, moved right, like it had been picked with intention. That part didn’t matter. What mattered was what it did when someone looked at me in it.

I checked myself once in the mirror, not admiring it, just confirming what I already knew. This would get attention. Good. I grabbed my bag, turned off the light, and headed for the door.

I went back down to the lobby and sat.

No reason. No phone out. No distraction. Just me, sitting there like I was waiting for someone who was already late. I crossed my legs slowly, adjusted the dress like it mattered, and let the silence stretch long enough to be noticed.

Because it would be.

He didn’t miss things.

I didn’t look toward the desk, but I felt it when he did. That shift in attention. That quiet awareness of someone being exactly where they weren’t supposed to be without explanation.

Good.

I let a few more minutes pass before I leaned back slightly and said, without looking at him, “If you’re going to keep staring, you might as well come over.”

I didn’t wait long.

It didn’t take much for someone like him to notice something out of place, and me sitting there dressed like I had somewhere to be, but nowhere to go was enough. I felt it before I saw it, that quiet shift in attention, the kind that didn’t need footsteps to announce it.

“Waiting for someone?”

His voice came from my right, calm, like he already knew the answer before he asked it.

I turned just enough to look at him, letting a small, tired smile settle into place like it belonged there. I didn’t rush it, didn’t overplay it, just enough to sell the idea that I had been sitting there a while, waiting for someone who clearly wasn’t coming. “I was,” I said, adjusting the strap of my bag like it mattered more than it did. “Starting to think I got stood up.”

He didn’t answer right away, and I let that sit between us instead of filling it. His eyes moved over me once, slow enough to notice everything but controlled enough to pretend it wasn’t happening, taking in the dress, the effort, the fact that I hadn’t come down here by accident. There was nothing rushed about him, nothing sloppy, and that alone told me more than anything he could have said out loud. He already knew this wasn’t random. He was just deciding what version of it he wanted to believe.

“That happens,” he said finally, like it didn’t matter either way, like being stood up was just another detail that didn’t deserve much attention. His tone stayed even, but his eyes didn’t leave me this time, not fully. He was still watching, still measuring, like he was waiting to see how I’d respond before deciding what this interaction was going to be.

“Not usually to me,” I said, letting a little edge slip into it, just enough confidence to make it sound like I meant it without turning it into a challenge. I shifted slightly in my seat as I said it, crossing my legs again, giving him a different angle without making it obvious that I was doing it on purpose. If he was going to watch, I’d give him something worth looking at.

His gaze dipped for a fraction of a second and came back up just as smoothly, like the movement hadn’t happened at all, but I caught it anyway. He didn’t comment on it, didn’t react in any way that could be called obvious, and that told me everything I needed to know about how he handled interest. Controlled. Measured. The kind that didn’t give anything away unless it wanted to.

“It suits you,” he said.

I glanced down at the dress like I hadn’t already checked. “Yeah,” I said, brushing my hand over the fabric once. “Just found it sitting in my room.”

“I figured it was for someone else,” I added, looking back up at him. “But no one came knocking for it, so…”

He held my gaze a beat longer than necessary, then said, “It was for you.”

I let that sit for a second before answering, like I was deciding how seriously to take it. “From who?”

“Me,” he said, just like that, no hesitation, no attempt to dress it up.

I let out a short breath and leaned back slightly, looking at him again like I was trying to place him in a different way. “You just leave gifts in people’s rooms?” I asked, not rushing the question, just letting it sit there like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Only when I want to,” he said, like that answered everything.

I nodded once, like I could work with that. “And the note?” I asked, keeping my tone light. “You go around calling your guests ‘baby’ too, or was that just for me?”

“It’s what I want out of you,” he said, like it didn’t need explaining, like the word already belonged to me whether I agreed to it or not.

I choked on a laugh before I could stop it, the sound catching in my throat as I shook my head slightly. “Wait,” I said, looking at him again like I needed to make sure I heard him right. “You mean… an actual baby?” I let out another small laugh, brushing it off like it was a joke that landed wrong. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening,” I added, waving a hand lightly. “I can’t have kids.”

He didn’t react the way I expected him to. No surprise, no sympathy, nothing that matched the weight of what I had just said. He just looked at me, steady, like it didn’t change anything.

I shook my head and let out a small, uneasy laugh again, like I couldn’t decide if he was serious or just saying things to get a reaction. “That’s… kind of creepy,” I said, looking at him a second longer before adding, “actually, no—that is creepy.”

“If it were meant to be harmless, it would be,” he said, still calm, like he didn’t see anything wrong with it at all. “You’re the one who decided to wear it.”

I let that sit for a second, then leaned forward slightly, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair like I was settling into the moment instead of backing away from it. “Yeah,” I said, a small smirk pulling at my mouth, “and you’re the one who put it there.”

I leaned in a little. “You left it,” I said. “I wore it.

“Then don’t let it go to waste,” he said.

I tilted my head, just enough. “Drink?”

We moved to the small table by the bar, close enough that I didn’t have to raise my voice, far enough that it felt like a choice instead of a setup. I took a sip first, slow, watching him over the rim of the glass, then set it down like I wasn’t thinking about anything at all. “So,” I said, letting the word hang for a second, “this is your idea of a welcome?”

“It depends on the guest,” he said.

I traced the rim of my glass with my finger and gave a small shrug. “Lucky me, then.”

I made sure his glass never stayed empty.

Every time he took a sip, I was already reaching for the bottle, topping him off like it was habit, like I wasn’t paying attention to how much he’d had. I barely touched mine, just enough to sell it, letting it linger at my lips without ever really drinking it. By the second round, his shoulders had loosened, his responses slower, less measured. Not sloppy, not out of control just enough that the edge was gone. Perfect.

I leaned in closer, letting my movements soften, my balance shift just enough to make it believable. “You’re going to let me sit here all night like this?” I murmured, letting my words blur slightly at the edges.

I didn’t pace myself like some delicate little thing pretending she didn’t know her way around a bottle. I drank with him because that was part of the fun, part of the cover, and part of me. The difference was I knew what liquor did to me, and I knew how to stay sharp underneath the warmth. Simon drank like a man who enjoyed control even while swallowing something meant to loosen it, slow sips, steady hand, eyes still too aware. So I made it social. Easy. A little reckless. Every time his glass lowered, I laughed, reached for the bottle, and filled us both again before the moment had time to cool.

I let my shoulder brush his. Let my knee touch his under the table. Let the dress do whatever creepy little job it had been picked to do. By the third drink, he wasn’t sloppy, but something in him had shifted. The silence between his answers stretched longer. His gaze stayed on my mouth a second too much. His hand rested closer to mine than it needed to. That was enough. I didn’t need him foolish. I just needed him distracted.

I leaned in first.

Not slowly, not testing anything, just closing the space like I had already decided how this was going to go. My hand slid up his chest as I kissed him, steady, deliberate, giving him just enough to react to without giving him time to think about it. He didn’t hesitate. His hand came to my waist, firm, controlled, pulling me in just enough to meet me halfway. I let it build for a second, then pulled back like I needed air, like I was already a little too gone to keep it together. “You’re really just going to let me sit here all dressed up like this?” I murmured, my voice softer now, edges blurred just enough to sell it. I didn’t wait for him to answer. I stood, taking my drink with me, letting my fingers brush his shoulder as I passed. “Come on,” I added, glancing back at him with a small smile. “I’m not wasting this night sitting down.”

He stood after me.

Not rushed, not hesitant, just following like it was already decided. I didn’t look back right away. I let him come to me, let the space close naturally as I started toward the hallway, my steps steady but just loose enough to keep the act believable. By the time he reached me, I was already close enough to touch, my hand sliding along his arm like I needed the balance, like I wasn’t fully grounded anymore. The lobby fell quiet behind us as we moved, the shift in space immediate, like stepping out of something public and into something that belonged to just us. I leaned into him as we walked, letting my head tilt slightly toward his shoulder, letting my breath brush his neck like I wasn’t thinking about it. “You always this quiet?” I murmured, my voice low, almost playful, like I wasn’t already steering where this was going. I didn’t wait for an answer. I turned into him instead, stopping just enough to press him lightly against the wall before the stairs, closing the distance again like I hadn’t already made my point downstairs.