Freya stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed and crossed her arms over her chest, a defiant glint in her eyes as she glared at Arnold. Her skin still felt cold from the water, but anger burned hotter.
Arnold turned to face her, his eyes skimming over her body. And he couldn't deny how strikingly beautiful she was.
Her delicate face was framed by a curtain of long, dark hair. Her skin was creamy and flawless, with full lips and high cheekbones.
The dress she was wearing was a tight-fitting one that showed off her figure to full advantage, the material clinging to her body in all the right ways. She looked every inch the confident, self-assured woman that she was.
"Are you ready?" He asked after managing to take his eyes off her body.
"I'll leave whenever I want," she snapped. "You can't dictate when I leave."
If anyone else had spoken to him the way she just did, they would have regretted their essence. But strangely, he was unaffected and even seemed to be enjoying her outbursts.
"Oh, really?" he teased, unbothered. "Is this perhaps your way of showing you want to spend more time with me? You must have had a quite enjoyable night, leaving you wanting more like this. I'm so proud of myself."
Freya laughed for a while before shooting him a withering look. "I've regained my memory, Arnold," she said sharply, her eyes sparking with anger. "We did nothing."
"What do you mean, we didn't do anything?" He asked, feigning surprise. "Are you trying to deny it now?"
"Yes! I remembered," she said, planting her feet like she was ready for a fight. "Nothing happened."
"Wow. And how exactly did you end up in my bed, then?" He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting for her to explain herself.
There was a beat of stillness. Even the air conditioning hum seemed to vanish.
And then the memories crashed down around her.
★★★
THE PREVIOUS NIGHT
Freya Davis walked into the hotel building with her best friend, Laura Aloysia. They had come straight from their various workplaces, still dressed in their office attire.
It was Friday evening and a night out was just what they needed to unwind before the weekend disappeared.
"You won't believe what Thompson did today," Freya said immediately as they took a seat at the hotel lounge.
"I'll believe," Laura replied lightheartedly.
Freya frowned. "Come on.. I'm not joking here,"
"I'm not joking either. There's nothing your chief editor isn't capable of doing, so I'll believe whatever you say," She said, and they both chuckled.
Soon, a waiter walked over to their table. "What would you like to have, madams?"
"Steak and strawberry daiquiri for me," Laura answered.
"I'll have the same." Freya added and the waiter bowed slightly before leaving.
Within a few minutes, the waiter was back with their order, and they started to dig in.
"So.. did he cause an earthquake this time around?" Laura asked.
Freya slumped over the table, her eyes fixed on Laura with a mixture of frustration and exasperation. "Today, he rewrote my entire article at the last minute, just because he didn't like the tone. He didn't even give me a chance to defend my work or explain my approach."
"That's ridiculous! What did you write that was so wrong?" She asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"It wasn't even about the content. He just said it didn't fit the tone he wanted. And to make matters worse, he cc'd the entire editorial team on the email, so now everyone thinks I'm incompetent."
"That's so unprofessional! Does this man have no work ethics at all?" She yelled at no one in particular. "Did you talk to him about it?"
Freya let out a deep sigh. "I tried to, but he just brushed me off. He told me to focus on meeting the deadline rather than questioning his feedback."
"Someone really needs to put that Thompkid in his place," she hissed before her voice turned sympathetic. "I'm sure it's tough working with that asshole."
"Very very. He's always breathing down my neck, finding fault with every little thing I do."
"I'm here for you, okay? Everything will be better soon." Laura smiled as she put a reassuring hand on Freya's arm, in a bid to cheer her up.
"I hope." She sighed again and poured some cocktail in the glass.
"Girl..!" Laura held her hand before she could take a sip. "So you were going to drink without a 'cheers!'?
"Sorry I forgot.."
"CHEERS TO FRIENDSHIP, AND GETTING RID OF THOMPSON SOON!" They said in unison as they clinked glasses then laughed their hearts out afterwards.
As they laughed and chatted, Laura's phone suddenly buzzed on the table.
"Excuse me, let me take this." She said before answering the call.
After a brief conversation, she turned to Freya with a concerned look.
"Freya, I'm so sorry, but I have to go. Something urgent came up, and I need to take care of it," Laura said, gathering her belongings.
"Why on earth- why now?" She scowled.
"I'm sorry… I promise I'll make it up to you."
"It's fine, go ahead," She muttered, waving her hand dismissively.
"I'm very sorry. If you need to talk or anything, call me, okay?"
Freya nodded and Laura quickly ran off.
As the cocktail finished, Freya signaled the waiter for a round of champagne. She was having the time of her life, and before she knew it, she became highly tipsy and her inhibitions began to fade.
She fumbled for her phone and dialed Laura's number.
"Hey, girl, I'm… I'm having a bit of a time," she slurred, giggling.
Laura's voice was concerned at the other end. "Freya, don't tell me you're drunk…"
"Drunk? Nah.. not at all… Wait, how did you know my name?" she asked as she took another sip of the champagne.
"Holy moly… you're fucking drunk! You know what? Don't even think about leaving the hotel. Just book a room and stay there for the night. I'll come pick you up in the morning."
"But-" she tried to protest but Laura cut her off.
"Never mind. I'll reserve a room online under your name, then send you the room number and passcode. okay?"
Freya nodded, even though Laura couldn't see her. "Okay, okay."
Within a few minutes, her phone buzzed and she saw the text.
"Room 314, Noble suite. Passcode: 1528"
She carried her belongings and headed to the elevator, but due to her intoxicated state, she got the floor wrong. Instead of going to the noble suite, she went to the presidential suite.
But fortunately, the passcode for a specific room number is the same for each suite. This enabled her to unlock the room and stumbled inside.
She found herself in the most ridiculous suite she'd ever seen.
A grand piano sat near the window.
A terrace overlooked the city skyline.
She staggered past velvet couches, her heels slipping on polished floors, and threw herself face-first into the nearest bed without a second thought.
She didn't see the man standing frozen in the doorway.
Arnold Connor had returned to his suite to find a strange woman dead asleep in his bed — face mashed into the pillow, shoes kicked off haphazardly, drooling slightly.
He stared for a long moment, blinking like he wasn't sure he was awake.
Was this a prank? A trap?
Was she dangerous?
He approached carefully, ready to shake her awake and call security — but when he leaned in, he realized how harmless she looked.
At first, he took in her beautiful features, noticing the way her dark hair went down her back and the gentle curve of her lips.
Her body scent was mixed with that of a vanilla cologne, alcohol, and exhaustion.
She was tiny compared to the massive bed.
Against all better judgment, Arnold ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "Fuck it."
She wasn't going anywhere tonight.
And for some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't want to toss her out.
He called down to security to cancel any intrusions and let her sleep.
Then he grabbed a spare blanket and pillow and settled on the couch in the room, ensuring she had a restful night's sleep without any interruptions – aside from him keeping one eye open, just in case she turned out to be crazy.