To Love or To Hate you

Chapter 5

Adrian’s POV

It was exactly eight p.m. when we got to the hotel. I can’t help myself but sneak glances at the woman I only intend to save—through marriage. But I can’t help but think how it’d feel if she fell asleep in my hands. I shake the thought off.

“I’ll be back in a minute, Vanessa,” I say. She only nods, her ocean blue eyes staring at me with so much hope.

“Two shots of vodka, please,” I tell the barman and proceed to scroll through my phone.

“A shot of vodka for me,” the woman by my side says. The air around me constricts, and my body shivers when she touches my arm. She’s here—the devil.

Catherine’s manicured finger grazes my hand, sliding up to my shoulder, then down across my chest.

“Why are you here?” I seethe, my gaze still lowered to my drink. I’m praying Vanessa doesn’t come down.

“Heard you got married, came to pay my respects,” her slick voice tortures my ears.

“Thank you, but it’s not your concern. I’ll take my leave now.”

I drop a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and get up to leave, but she stops me midway. She steps in front of me, holding the two shots I ordered. She stretches her hand towards me with both glasses.

“At least take your drink before you leave. Cheers to your new bride,” she snickers.

“You can have the drinks. I have to go see my wife.”

Her nose scrunches at my mention of my wife. I want to wonder how she found me here, but of course—she has her ways. She downs a shot and wrinkles her face at the heat.

“Now don’t be disrespectful, Adrian. You know it’s what I hate.”

I almost hesitated, but then I remembered Vanessa. She doesn’t need more enemies.

“Fine, just this one.”

I collect the glass and pour it down my throat. The heat tingles my throat in a weird way. Something… familiar. I hand her back the shot glass and turn to leave.

That’s when it hits me. I shouldn’t have drunk it. My vision blurs and my head feels light.

“What—did—you—do—to—me?”

I stagger, barely managing to stay on my feet.

“Is he alright?” someone asks her. My vision is fading, but I see her move closer. She rushes to place my arm over her shoulder, supporting me with her weight.

“Yes, we’re just headed to our room,” she replies.

I only remember entering the elevator and appearing back in the hotel room. But it’s strange—Vanessa isn’t walking towards me. I see the curvy frame of my uncle’s wife, Catherine, gliding towards me, dressed only in her underwear.

“No. Please, I’m married,” I try to say, but my words come out slurred.

“Oh, come on, Adrian. You should know how it is by now. You shouldn’t have married her.”

Catherine balances herself on my lap, and then, the doorbell rings.

“Well, the more, the merrier,” she smiles.

My eyes widen. No. Please. Don’t do it.

I try to scream, but my voice only echoes in my head. She walks in—those blue eyes fixated on me, tears rolling down her cheeks.

I shake my head. “Vanessa. Vane—” I stretch out my hand to reach her, but my world blurs.

The doorbell rings again. I writhe in the bed. Who’s disturbing my wife and me this early?

I open my eyes only to find myself naked, covered in nothing but sheets. My heart skips. My hands tremble.

Did I have s*x with Vanessa? I only remember last night at the bar. Slowly, blurred memories of the night before come flooding back—Catherine, vodka, Vanessa…

I jump to my feet and throw on my clothes, which were neatly folded by the nightstand. I’m still trying to piece everything together, but Catherine and Vanessa in the same picture… not a good thing.

I find my way back to the room. Luckily, the card is still in my pocket.

“Vanessa, where are you?” I shout, my chest rising heavily.

Shit. I hope it’s not what I’m thinking.

“Vanessa, plea—”

She walks out of the restroom. I can hardly recognize her. Her eyelids are swollen, her eyes red, and she looks pale—ghostly.

“Why?” her voice cracks.

Fuck. Catherine had done it again, and this time, I might have caused it.

“Let me explain,” I pleaded. “Please.”

“I watched you, Adrian.” Her lips quiver as she sobs. She wipes her face with the hem of her shirt and continues, her voice trembling.

“Even though you married me for your own fun, and you don’t want me—why did you have to make me watch?”

I only brought her in with me to save her, but I’m doing more harm than good. My chest twists with guilt.

She collapses to the floor, and my legs move on their own, rushing to her aid.

“Vanessa, please. Listen to me. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes meet mine. If stares could kill, I’d already be ashes at that moment.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” she barks. Her eyes soften, but the anger in them lingers, shifting into something deeper.

“I hate you, Adrian. I hate that you give me hope only to snatch it. I hate when you act like you care and shut me out the next minute. I hate you!” she screams, hitting my chest over and over.

I let her do it. I deserve it.

“You’re even worse than everyone who has laid a finger on me. Return me to my father. At least he doesn’t pretend to care when he despises me.”

Fresh tears form in her eyes, and my heart sinks. I hurt her. Just like I did to my mom.

***

11 years ago…

“Sorry for your loss, Mr. Voss,” everyone kept telling my father. My father had cried so much when I found her lifeless body hanging in the garage.

On the day of the burial, many important persons came to pay their last respects to the youngest heiress in London, including my uncle and his wife, Catherine.

That night, I walked into my room only to find a half-naked Catherine lying in my bed.

“Don’t be scared, Adrian. I’m only here to help you feel better.” Her words still haunt me.

“No, ma’am. Your husband, my uncle, is downstairs,” I stammered, rushing toward the door, but she beat me to it.

“Come on now, Adrian. Don’t be scared. Take this.”

She stepped closer and handed me a drink.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’ll help you feel better,” she told me.

“I’ll take it, but you’ll let me go, Catherine.”

“Fine, fine,” she replied, smiling.

I took the glass and downed it, trying not to look at her body. I was only seventeen—and mourning my mother.