POV Tony
I watch her enter the restaurant without turning back.
Her white dress disappears behind the glass door.
This girl has an incredible gift for making me lose my composure, me who never loses control.
Never.
I pace in front of the car, jaw clenched, fists tight.
Damn. Twenty minutes. Twenty long minutes. She's getting too confident. Way too much.
I'm about to go in to get her when my phone vibrates again. I don't even need to look at the screen to know it's Lana.
This girl pushes too far… and yet, I clearly told her it's over.
I clench my jaw before answering.
— I told you not to call me anymore.
— To… Tony…
Her voice is unrecognizable. Trembling.
— Tony, please… come help me. They want to take me with them.
I stop dead.
— What are you talking about? Who, "they"?
A dull noise erupts on the other end of the line. A muffled scream.
— Lana?!
— Tony… I'm scared…
The connection crackles.
— Hey! Answer me!
Silence.
The line cuts off. A brutal, violent cold runs through me.
— Fuck…
My gaze instinctively turns to the restaurant.
Esther is still inside.
Unprotected. Without me. But Lana needs help.
I hesitate no longer. I dial another number while already walking toward the car.
— Get Esther. Now.
— Sir? But
— Now, I repeat. Don't lose sight of her for a single second.
I hang up and start the car abruptly.
I should be with her.
I have to be with her.
But Lana… Lana needs help. When someone needs help, I don't hesitate to come to them.
After thirty minutes of driving, I finally arrive at the hotel.
It wasn't that far…
I slam the car into a stop and hand the keys to the valet without really looking.
— Take care of it.
I wait for no response.
As soon as I'm inside, I spot the reception.
— Good evening. Excuse me, I'm looking for Lana De Santis' room.
The receptionist gives me a professional, warm, almost mischievous smile.
I don't have time for that.
Not today.
— Yes sir, Miss De Santis is on the third floor, room three hundred thirty and…
I don't even let her finish and already head for the elevator.
I enter, press the button for the third floor. It starts to rise.
— Damn… hurry up.
This elevator is moving way too slowly for my liking.
After a few minutes, the doors open.
I almost run out and quickly spot room
The door is ajar. I rush inside.
— Lana? Are you here?
The light is off. The room is plunged into total darkness.
I advance cautiously when I hear the door close.
I turn around.
Lana is there. Standing just behind me. Wearing a thin-strapped nightgown, which doesn't hide much of her body.
The fabric hugs her curves without really covering them, as if it was designed to attract the gaze… and hold it.
I have to say, Lana is a beautiful woman, with Mediterranean beauty that leaves no one indifferent. A slim waist, worthy of a model.
Exactly the kind of woman who attracts me.
She approaches slowly, with that natural confidence she always has. Her eyes shine with desire and fix on me with a disturbing intensity.
And that… I like it.
Her scent reaches me even before she touches me. Warm. Sweet. Heady.
— Tony… she murmurs with a smile I know too well.
She says it with such sensuality that a shiver runs through me.
Her black wavy hair, loose, gives her an incredibly sexy air.
I freeze, unable to decide: leave, turn my back and never come back… or stay, give in to my desires without worrying about anything.
About her.
Without realizing it, she is already in front of me and places a hand on my chest, through my suit.
— So, Mr. Arrison… you're finally here.
I say nothing. I let her do it. I want to see how far she'll go.
— Lana… what is this? Why did you tell me to come
— Shhh… she murmurs, moving closer, pressing her body against mine. Let me do it… let me give you pleasure.
And without realizing it, she slowly places her lips on mine, as if she fears I'll push her away. My body reacts reflexively… and responds to her kiss.
I place a hand behind her neck to deepen the kiss. I feel her smile against my mouth.
We kiss with so much desire…
She removes my suit top and throws it to the floor, never breaking the kiss.
She makes me step back onto the bed, makes me sit, then straddles me.
I knew she was bold… but this is far more than that.
She behaves like a true pest. And I love it.
Slowly, she unbuttons my shirt and slides her fingers over my bare chest.
A growl escapes me. The kisses grow hotter, more intense. She slips a hand behind my neck, while mine naturally rests on her hips.
I feel her shiver. The room is silent, barely disturbed by the distant noise of the city.
She moves closer, forehead against mine. Her breath mingles with mine.
— You're tense, she murmurs. You should relax… let yourself go.
I don't respond.
I am trapped. Unable to think clearly.
Her hand rises, brushes my jaw, and caresses it, as if trying to remind me of something I'm trying to forget.
I respond to her gestures, my fingers gliding along her back, following the curve of her waist.
Her skin is smooth. Familiar… but different. Something feels wrong. My heart races faster, but it's not just desire.
It's confusion.
She snuggles against me, resting her head on my shoulder.
A suspended moment.
Then she leans in to shower kisses on my chest and guides her hand toward my belt.
I close my eyes, letting out a soft moan. I enjoy what she's doing. I want her to continue.
Suddenly…
Esther's face appears in my mind. Her angelic face. Her beautiful black eyes that hypnotize me.
Her soft voice, which stands up to me even when she trembles.
I can't do this, no I can't.
I push Lana away abruptly, and she loses her balance and falls to the floor.
I jump up.
— But… what am I doing? I murmur, completely confused.
I stand still, immobile, breathing short, my heart pounding too hard, too fast.
As if it were trying to warn me of something I almost broke.
Why her face?
Why now?
Why her?
She slipped between me and Lana without warning, without noise.
Like a truth I refused to face.
I run a hand over my face, harshly.
— Fuck… I exhale, completely confused
I shouldn't be here.
I should be with her.
I feel weak when it comes to Esther. And I hate that more than anything.
— What's wrong with you? Why did you do that?
Her voice snaps me back to reality.
I don't answer and head for the door. I grab my suit top from the floor; I'm about to leave when she grabs my hand.
— Let go, Lana.
She obeys and stands in front of me with a changed look. There is no longer desire, no seduction.
Just the gaze of a wounded woman.
— Why are you doing this?
I remain silent.
Because I don't know what to answer.
— Oh? It's her, isn't it? she says calmly.
Still no answer.
She laughs softly.
A joyless, cold laugh.
— You were no longer looking at me, Tony. You were elsewhere… Your body was here, but your mind was with her.
She approaches but I take a step back; the distance between us becomes impassable.
— Until yesterday, you loved my caresses, lowering me, and today you push me away… because of that girl.
I sigh with annoyance; she can really be annoying when she wants.
— Don't talk about my wife like that.
My voice snaps, harsh, violent, cutting the air. It cuts everything.
— She is not your equal, Lana. You don't even come close. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never.
I take a step forward, just enough for her to feel the threat in every syllable.
— So I warn you only once. One fucking time. Watch what you say. Because next time, I won't be so calm.
Silence falls. Brutal, cold.
Lana doesn't answer.
But I see everything.
The disappointment in her eyes, the ego wounded. She presses her lips together, as if swallowing something too bitter to speak. Then her voice trembles as she speaks, broken despite herself:
— So why are you here, Tony? Why are you here? Why didn't you stay with your so-called wife for your wedding night, huh?
— Because you called me saying you needed help. Not to seduce me and put me in your bed.
I try to convince myself.
Lie to myself, maybe.
I know Lana. I've always known her. I should have guessed she would try to seduce me, that she would use exactly what she knows about me. And yet… I wanted to believe her. I pretended to ignore the doubt gnawing at me from the start.
This discreet unease, buried, that I refused to listen to.
Because part of me still hoped she really needed help… even if, deep down, I already knew it wasn't the whole story.
— You could have refused. You should have said no. But no… here you are. You're here.
She's right. I should have said no, but I prefer to believe in my will over my reason.
She sees the trouble on my face, the hesitation. Then she approaches again, places a hand on my cheek. I don't push her away. Not yet.
— I know why you're here, she says after a pause. You're here because you want to have a good time with me. Because you want to be with me. Because you like being with me. Because you want me.
She places a kiss on my neck.
I shiver involuntarily. She knows me too well; she knows my weaknesses, she knows exactly where to touch to make me lose footing.
She presses against me, kisses my cheek, and whispers in my ear:
— Let me make you forget your wife tonight.
My whole body reacts… but, for the first time, something resists.
These words hit harder than her gestures.
Forget my wife.
This simple idea acts like a brutal alarm inside me, an emergency signal I can no longer ignore.
Desire is still there, burning, instinctive… but it collides with something else.
With an image.
With a gaze.
With a presence that is not in this room but imposes itself on me with relentless force. And there is no way I will forget her. Never.
— Lana, stop, I say harshly.
She looks at me, eyes shining, wet with an emotion she refuses to let fall.
For a moment, I read anger, wounded pride… then something more fragile, almost painful…
She finally turns away, as if staying in front of me became too heavy to bear.
Then she moves away from me slowly.
— This girl will leave you, Tony. She will go like all the others. She doesn't love you. She will never love you. She's not made for you. You're wasting your time with her.
Cold, sharp anger rises.
— None of your business.
She opens her mouth, ready to reply, but I stop her. I have no more patience. No more desire to play with her.
— You know nothing about her.
Nothing of what she is. Nothing of what I feel. So keep her name out of your mouth.
You have no right to speak of her. You know me, Lana. You know exactly how far I can go. Don't push me to remind you.
My voice is harsh. Definitive. I try by all means to keep my calm.
— What we had is over. Definitively.
I pass by her, open the door.
And this time… I don't look back.
I walk out without looking back.
It's over. Lana, I'm crossing it out. Definitive. A one-night stand. Nothing more, nothing less. A mistake I don't even want to name anymore.
I leave the room, walk down the hallway, take the elevator without waiting for anyone. The doors close, and for a second, I feel empty. Tired. Irritated.
I exit the hotel without giving a glance to the receptionist who smiles at me. Pathetic.
I grab the keys, get in the car, and start immediately. The road stretches out before me, endless, and of course… her image comes back.
— Fuck…
I exhale, annoyed at myself.
Why her? Why now?
What's wrong with me, damn it?
The kilometers pass. The hours go by.
When I finally arrive at the hotel, the night is already well advanced.
I park, enter the hotel lobby. It's completely empty.
No trace, nobody at the reception.
— Seriously… what are these people even for?
Not a single employee in sight.
I wonder why we pay them if it's not to do their job properly.
I don't really remember the room number.
It must be between 230 or 232.
I frown, trying to recall the room number. This is the first time something like this has happened to me.
No damn idea. I sigh, enter the elevator, and go up anyway.
She must be asleep by now. Good. I don't want to wake her.
The elevator opens, and I head toward room three thirty.
I raise my hand to knock… but notice the handle isn't locked.
— She really loves taking risks…
I open the door, and the room is plunged into darkness.
A thick, almost heavy darkness.
I take a few steps, move toward the bed, and barely sit…
when two arms suddenly wrap around me from behind.
— My love… you're finally here…
I freeze. No, that's not her voice. That's not Esther's voice.
— What the hell?!
I immediately sit up.
— Ma'am, you're mistaken. Let go of me.
— Oh my God… I didn't think you were this muscular, she murmurs, laughing softly. You were hiding your game well… why so shy?
— Are you serious right now?
She slides her hands over my shirt, already unbuttoned, and starts undoing the buttons.
— Damn it, stop! What's your problem?!
I try to push her away, but she clings as if her life depends on it.
— Since when is a woman this strong, damn it?
And then… the light comes on. A man appears, standing near the switch.
In his fifties. Simple clothes. A gaze frozen between surprise and anger.
Silence falls, brutal.
The woman detaches herself from me suddenly, lets out a high-pitched scream, and steps back as if I were a dangerous stranger.
— WHO ARE YOU?! AND HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?!
— What are you doing here?! the man adds, stepping forward.
I run a hand over my face slowly. Calm down, Tony. Calm down… or you'll explode.
— Relax. I entered the wrong room. That's it. No need to make a scene.
The woman straightens abruptly and rushes to her husband, as if I were going to jump on her.
— Honey… it's probably a thief. Call security!
I stare at her, incredulous.
Seriously… A thief?
With this face? With these clothes?
— Do I look like a fucking thief? I snap, annoyed. I told you it's a misunderstanding.
But of course, he listens to nothing.
— Yes, you're right, he replies, already grabbing the phone on the nightstand. I'll call security right away.
I sigh deeply, run a hand over my face. This situation is so ridiculous it's almost funny. I let out a brief, nervous laugh, then cross my arms over my chest, perfectly calm on the outside.
— You find this funny? the man says arrogantly. You'll see when security arrives. You won't be so cocky.
— Frankly, I say in a dry tone, if I wanted to steal something, I'd aim higher than your lousy room.
The woman sniffs, mock-outraged.
— And to think I touched him… he was in our bed…
She pretends to be disgusted, but I can clearly see the turmoil in her eyes. She enjoyed it. She knows it, and that annoys her even more. She liked what she touched.
At that exact moment, the door bursts open.
Two security guards enter.
— There! she exclaims immediately, rushing toward them. This man broke into our room! He tried to steal from us!
I stand there, motionless, arms crossed, perfectly detached. A spectator of my own scene, hoping this circus ends.
— Don't worry, ma'am, we'll handle this quickly, says one of the guards in a reassuring tone.
They approach me, looking serious, almost aggressive. The kind of stance you take when you think you've caught a dangerous criminal.
When they reach me, one of them stares at me… then pales slightly.
— … Mr. Arrison? Is that you?
I raise an eyebrow, annoyed to the bone.
— No. It's your dead grandfather come back to life. Finished staring at me, or are you going to do your job?
I know I'm being rude. I don't care. At that moment, my head is about to explode, and my patience is nearly zero.
The guard swallows.
— Sorry, Mr. Arrison… we didn't know it was you.
— Fine. Keep your apologies to yourself. Now, do what you're paid to do.
I notice the others' looks. I see the confusion and doubt.
Ah… I love this moment of confusion in their eyes and incomprehension.
The guards slowly turn toward the couple.
— Sir, there's been a misunderstanding, announces one of them in a much calmer tone. This gentleman is neither a thief nor an intruder. He is the most important client of our hotel.
— What do you mean, a misunderstanding? the woman chokes. He was in our room!
— Because he got the number wrong, ma'am, replies the guard. It happens.
The husband clears his throat, suddenly much less confident.
— You… are you sure?
I let out a brief, nervous laugh.
— Unless you changed the door number while I was in the elevator, yes, I'm sure.
Silence.
A heavy, awkward, crushing silence.
The woman looks away, red to the ears. Her husband now avoids my gaze as if he's about to be crushed.
— I… I'm sorry, she murmurs. I thought that…
— Yeah, I cut her off sharply. You thought a lot of things tonight. If you're done with your circus, I'd like to go to my room.
The guards exchange a look.
— We will escort you to your room, Mr. Arrison.
— Unnecessary, I say, already heading for the exit. I can walk alone.
I cast one last look at the couple—they lower their eyes. Perfect. The door closes behind me with a sharp click, the end of the circus.
— We insist, sir, says a guard following me. Let us escort you.
— We heard about your marriage… congratulations, says the other guard.
I nod vaguely, and we walk down the hallway in silence. When we reach the correct door, one of them knocks.
A few seconds pass.
Then again, but… why isn't she opening?
The guard knocks a second time, harder.
This time, the door opens, and Esther appears in the doorway. She wears a light robe, tied hastily, still damp. Her wet hair sticks to her skin, slides down her neck, clings to her barely exposed collarbone. Water still beads at the top of her chest. She clearly just got out of the shower.
But there's nothing soft in her gaze.
Her face is closed off, anger there. Controlled coldness. Her eyes move slowly from one guard to the other, with that polite distance that cuts harder than a scream. Then they land on me.
And stop on my rumpled, half-open shirt. My hair is tousled.
— Good evening, Mrs. Arrison… begins a guard.
She doesn't even listen.
Her gaze never leaves me. Not for a second. She stares at me insistently, as if searching for something.
— Mrs. Arrison, you're expecting what we're saying… he continues.
She finally turns her head toward him,
— Excuse me, she says in a cold voice, what were you saying?
— Mrs. Arrison, we…
— Besson, she cuts in. Miss Besson.
The guard blinks, unsettled. I stand there, watching. What is she playing at?
— Ma'am, but…
— There is no "but." Why exactly are you in front of my door?
— Mr. Arrison got lost. We escorted him to his room.
She gives a slight smile. Not a kind smile. A smile that announces a storm.
— I'm sorry, she says calmly, but I don't know these gentlemen.
Silence.
The guards exchange a look, uncomfortable.
She shifts slightly, still in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Her gaze returns to me. Harder. Sharper.
— As for you…
She pauses. Long enough to hurt.
— You seem to have had quite the evening.
Her voice doesn't tremble.
But every word is a slap.
— But sorry to tell you, this room is not yours.
— What the hell are you talking about now? I almost shout.
One of the guards jumps.
She doesn't. She slowly lifts her chin, ready to challenge me again.
— Listen, sir, don't yell at me. I don't know you. And I have no desire to know you, so stop yelling because I can yell too.
She's clearly mocking me. She loves playing with my patience.
— I don't know what's wrong with you today, but you're not acting normal…
— Oh really? she cuts in immediately.
Her eyes flare.
— Are you calling me crazy?
Fuck. She's doing it on purpose.
Hold me back before I commit murder.
— Maybe, yes, I say coldly. Because I don't know anyone who gets married today and then, not even two days later, pretends they aren't married.
Her eyes widen, looking falsely shocked.
An actress. A real one.
— How dare you? Pretend to be MY husband?
She emphasizes every word.
— And do you have proof of what you claim?
Touched. Damn, she's dangerously clever. I finally understand where she's going with this. Surely revenge. She must really hate me for leaving her in the restaurant.
The guards are still there, standing like extras.
It looks like a poorly written play. And I even see a slight smile on one of their faces. Great.
— Esther, my patience has limits, I say, clenching my jaw. Stop playing with my nerves. End this comedy before I really get angry.
— I'm shocked, she replies in a cold voice. You claim I'm playing, while you're in front of MY door saying nonsense?
Damn. This girl is going to drive me crazy.
I sigh, run a hand through my hair, already at my limit. She continues, not letting me breathe:
— Listen, officer. I've had an exhausting, eventful day, and I'd really like to rest.
She doesn't even give them time to respond.
The door slams shut in front of us.
She really just slammed the door in my face. This girl is really pushing my limits.
What a shitty evening.