His Favourite distraction

Chapter4

"Yes, that’s who I am. And who the f**k are you?"

The guards let go of me and walked off, leaving me alone with Mr. Intimidation himself. Black suit. Broad shoulders. Arms folded like a wall. I folded mine too, trying to mirror him, but his raised eyebrow screamed nice try, sweetheart.

"Why should I tell you?" I shot back, chin tilted up.

"Because I’m giving you a choice. Either you tell me yourself, or I dig it up in a background check."

"Don’t you need my name for that?"

"I know what you look like." His gaze trailed deliberately down my body, and heat rushed to my face.

"What if this isn’t even my real look? Maybe I’m a redhead in disguise. Contacts. Wigs. Whole double-life thing."

His jaw ticked. "You and I both know you’re stalling. So cut the shit."

"Cut what s**t?"

"This," he snapped, frustration spilling into his voice.

I grinned wider. "Define this."

His glare sharpened. "Do you think this is a joke? You’ve been sneaking around my hotel and you expect me to laugh it off?"

I narrowed my eyes, changing tactics. "What makes you so sure I was sneaking?"

His gaze swept over me, colder now. "You don’t look like someone who stays here."

My jaw dropped. "Excuse the f**k out of me? There’s no dress code for being rich, asshole. And for your information, I do stay here."

The lie slid down my throat like lemon juice—tart, sharp, not entirely unpleasant. His face said he wasn’t buying it for a second.

"And where exactly are you staying?" His voice dropped lower, dangerous.

Think, brain. Think fast.

"I stay..." I muttered, then marched past him and into his suite. "Here."

"What the f**k?" he roared, slamming the door shut.

"Temper, temper," I sing-songed, dropping onto his couch like I owned it. "It’s my room too."

He stalked forward. "Do you even know who you’re messing with?"

I grinned. "Of course. Arthur Cross. Twenty-five. Hotels. Resorts. Filthy rich. Playboy. Maybe married, but I doubt it. And right now? Pissed the f**k off."

"You’re damn right," he growled. "Now get out."

"And I’m saying no."

If he was mad before, now he was nuclear. "I have a meeting with someone important and I don’t want you—"

"In the way?" I finished, stretching out on the cushions.

Before he could lose it completely, the door opened. A tall man stepped inside. Black hair, steel-grey eyes, and a wolfish grin that oozed s*x and danger.

"What’s this, Cross?"

Arthur’s voice was flat. "Alexander, meet the random girl I’d love to get rid of."

Alexander’s eyes gleamed as they landed on me. He slid his hands into his pockets, smirking. "Hello, Alice."

I froze. "You... you know my name."

Arthur snapped his head toward him. "How the hell do you know her name?"

Alexander didn’t blink. "I didn’t come here for questions. I came for answers. My girlfriend’s waiting."

Girlfriend. My brain short-circuited. The world’s most dangerous bad boy was taken. Whoever she was must’ve cashed in all her karma points, because that man was a f*****g lottery win. But he wasn’t my target.

Arthur’s glare pinned me as he led Alexander into the next room and shut the door.

The second they disappeared, I jumped up. Time for Plan B: leverage.

I wandered until I found his bedroom — annoyingly spotless, bed made, everything neat. No whips hanging from the walls. No handcuffs. Not even a sock on the floor. I rifled through drawers (boring paperwork), then tugged a slip of paper from under the pillow. Jackpot. My grin stretched as I stuffed it down my bra.

Then I tossed the rest of the pillows aside—

And froze.

"Oh my f*****g God!" I shrieked.

Footsteps thundered. Arthur burst in, panic flickering under his fury. Alexander strolled up behind him, curious.

"What is it?" Arthur barked.

I pointed at the bed, eyes huge. "You’re into b**m!"

The silence was deafening.

Arthur’s face went scarlet. "I. Am. NOT. Into. f*****g. b**m. That’s a riding crop. For HORSES."

"Oh."

The awkwardness was suffocating. I shifted on my feet, wishing the floor would swallow me.

Arthur closed the distance, his big hand wrapping around my arm — not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make my stomach drop.

"I don’t want to see your face in this or any of my hotels again. Next time, I’m calling the cops. Do I make myself clear?" His voice was a low, dangerous whisper against my ear.

"What if I pay for a room?" I muttered.

"Then you’ll find your room outside."

"Okay," I shrugged, already plotting my next move.

"I’ll escort her out," Alexander offered smoothly, grin still plastered on his face.

I slipped from Arthur’s grip, lifted my chin, and strutted out like I hadn’t just accused him of being Christian Grey. This

wasn’t over — not with the secret tucked in my bra.

"And I don’t like red," Arthur called after me.

Shit..