Passion and Payback

Hidden Sabotage

Chapter 7

I opened my eyes and instantly felt a dull pain in my head, what’s more, the windows were covered by thick beige blinds which let in harsh sunlight. The bed felt luxurious, with silky sheets that were unfamiliar to me. My sweating stepped up realizing that I was not in my home. I sat up abruptly, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was very large and beautifully furnished and decorated: yet it was not a room I knew. Confusion arose and I tried to recall the events that I went through the night before.

There was such a luxury in this room, an expensive crystal chandelier above, opposite was a magnificent mirror and luxurious armchairs next to the window with a view of the city. I noticed a hotel notepad on the nightstand with a message scribbled on it:

“Thanks for the great night. Take care.”

Given by someone, the note was as polite as it was creepy. I was raised by the end of hairs on the back of my neck and ran a shiver down to my toes. My hands were shaking as I slid the note back. Did I indeed spend the previous night with someone? I looked at the cleansed and well-ironed clothes on the armchair – the dress I wore the night before. Laying my shoes at the bottom of the bed was done with a lot of neatness. Someone had taken care of everything, but who?

I found myself pondering over Blake now. I felt the familiar grip in my stomach that was a combination of guilt and rebelliousness. Blake had betrayed me first, sleeping with my work rival, Selene. The memory of finding them together, her smug face, and his insincere remorse, still hurt deeply.

This was different, wasn’t it?

I did not intend to betray him in return, but the situation that occurred last night made me question everything.

I looked around for the stranger who had left me alone, but the room was deserted. I was much too afraid to pursue the idea of a one-night stand with a man I could not remember. I tried hard to remember what happened the previous night, a party, lights, music, and a man with good looks, it was all a blur to me.

I now became conscious of the fact that I could not afford to hear what had happened, so the best thing was to disappear. My stomach churned as I thought of leaving. I needed answers. I woke up, stripped off the blankets, and rushed to the washroom.

I splashed water on my face while staring at the mirror. Images suddenly flashed—leaving the club, the stranger’s arm around me, guiding me to a cab, arriving at the hotel room. The moment was a blur of desire and intoxication, the lines between stranger and intimacy blurred.

Regret washed over me, realizing my mistake. In the haze of emotions and alcohol, I had let temptation lead me astray.

Tears welled up as I struggled to piece together the night, my mind clouded by confusion and fear of the unknown.

The water only seemed to make my head clear a little bit but the fear and the confusion were still there.

I tried to look for my phone but realized I could not see it. Fear crept in, had I lost it?

It was a club, my friend Sofia had dragged me to this place; where was she now? Had she ditched me? No, she wasn’t the type of person to do that. She is probably worried now.

This was a wave of an element of surprise, betrayal, and probably fear. I had to dig deeper, to try and locate her, to get some of the answers I so desperately sought.

I got dressed, and then proceeded to the door, picking up my purse on the way. I had to leave this place and go home, or at least somewhere I recognized and was comfortable. The luxury of the hotel became even more notable when I got into the hallway with the corridors painted with gold color, clean, soft carpeted floor, and the walls ornamented with classy lamp sconces. I glanced at the room number—1203—and made a mental note.

The trip down the building in the elevator seemed to take forever. A feeling of dread was swimming in me so I could not try to get rid of this feeling in my chest. What had occurred the night before? Why couldn’t I remember? It only indicated that the person I was with the night before was courteous and, to some extent, thoughtful, which did not make me feel any better.

I gasped when the doors of the elevator opened up to the large lobby. To my surprise, the hotel was even more luxurious than I expected. Crystal chandeliers, marble floor, the receptionist’s desk that seemed like it was from a royal palace. I cautiously walked up to the desk.

"Good morning, ma’am’, " the receptionist greeted me cheerfully. "Are you checking out?’

"Uh, yes. Can you tell me if there are any charges for my room?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Your bill has already been taken care of," she replied, glancing at her computer screen.

“I didn't even tell you my room number,” I ask, genuinely

“Mrs. Anastasia Sinclair, room 1203 right?” she asks promptly.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Well assured ma'am, your bill has been taken care of,” she replies.

I blinked in surprise. Who had paid for my stay? The stranger? The questions kept piling up, but I didn’t want to stick around to find out more. I needed to leave.

"Thank you," I mumbled, and quickly headed for the exit. As I stepped outside, the cool morning air hit me, and I felt a momentary sense of relief. But the fear and confusion quickly returned. I was alone in an unfamiliar part of town, without my phone, and with no memory of what had happened.

Just as I was about to hail a cab, a young man in a smart chauffeur's uniform approached me. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said politely, "Are you Miss Anastasia by any chance."

“Yes I am,” I responded, confusion lingering in my voice.

“I was instructed to take you home,” He says.

I gasped, frozen. "Who sent you?" I asked in a wavering voice.

"The gentleman you were out with last night, ma'am," he answered professionally. "Said you might be requiring assistance this morning."

My mind was racing. The stranger had organized for me to be taken home.

In my clouded state and the uneasiness hanging over me I felt a small release of relief, at least someone cared enough to make sure I got back safe.

“Thank you.” I quietly replied as I followed the chauffeur to the waiting car.

When we eventually pulled up at my

front door, I expressed my gratitude to the driver again and stepped out into the cool

morning air. Home, sweet home. But even here, I couldn‘t help but wonder what had just

happened.

When I entered my apartment, the unfamiliar feel of the unknown weighed heavily upon me.

It was the weekend, but a meeting had been organized among the finance, compliance, and operations teams to address this fraud issue. I start to prepare for the meeting.