"Thank you," I say to the room service attendant as he pushes the untouched trays out of the room from today's breakfast and snacks, leaving another tray of what looks like a scrumptious gourmet dish for lunch at the round dining table by the window.
He lingers at the door, looking hesitant as he faces me. "Is there something wrong with the food, Ma'am?"
"Hm?"
"It's just…You haven't touched it. If there's something wrong with your order, I'll let the Chef know so—"
"Oh, no. It's not the food… I'm…jet-lagged. So I don't have the appetite to eat." I don't even know if that's a thing. But whatever. I lift a small smile and start closing the door.
He raises his brows as if wanting to say something—or perhaps he's expecting a tip. "You can get your tip from the room next to mine. Just knock as loud as you can. He can be deaf sometimes." Yes. Captain Asshole would love to be disturbed, whatever he's doing right now.
The attendant gapes but I don't wait for his response and close the door. They keep sending food to my room despite my insistence that I didn't order it, and I just groaned when the hotel's operator said, "Your husband ordered for you, Ma'am."
It took a lot for me not to respond with: "He's not my husband. But I'd like to order a full-course meal of assassination to his room, please. And charge it to him, too, while you're at it."
Of course, I could only wish I said that.
Mariano hasn't come by to my room—not that I'm expecting him to, but I figure he would've at least checked in on his captive.
I didn't sleep much last night. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is the morgue and the last memory I have of J. I haven't cried again, though, which is probably good. I don't think I have any more tears. So I have a massive headache and I'm feeling extra bitchy today as I crawl back into bed, waiting for…I don't really know what I'm waiting for. There's really not much to do here.
The TV isn't working in my room—rather, I think it was arranged so I couldn't watch the news or any other channel for that matter. There's nothing but static. And I don't have my phone with me, so there's really nothing else to do but wait. Oh, I've tried calling New York but I should've already known he disabled my access to outside calls too. So unless the front desk offers a phone chat service to keep me company…
I think about my plans had I not found myself in this situation. I have a degree in Business Management and I've interned in one of my father's legitimate businesses in Manhattan. I was supposed to start working in SVR corp in a few months…after I convince him to let me work there, that is. He doesn't even need to hire me through nepotism. I was willing to undergo the normal interview process. He's totally against it though.
And now, I don't even have that chance anymore. My entire future has changed.
I snap my head towards the door to the adjoining room, wondering what the hell Mariano is doing in there. As soon as he left last night, I swept the room for any bugs or cameras and made sure the doors were locked—a habit I've had since I was a child because I was taught to always check if it was closed.
It bugged me that the door to the adjoining room was unlocked and I told myself perhaps the cleaning staff had probably just forgotten about it—which would be a bad service.
The room is quiet and all I hear is the sound of my breathing. I don't have anything with me. I only had my phone—which is currently in his hands. Other than a few bucks in my dress pocket last night, I have nothing. My wallet and purse were left in the hospital. I can't even bribe anyone with a dollar. Perhaps I should've just tipped the room service.
The more I think about all the things I don't have, the more the room gets quieter. How am I supposed to stay here? This is stupid. He could've at least allowed me to bring an overnight bag. But, of course, Captain Asshole wouldn't risk the chance of us stopping by my place.
I will myself to remember Jino's smiling face instead. He always smiled. The numbing pain in my chest is still there, and I don't think it will go away any time soon.
I wish it wouldn't because that would mean I've moved on.
And I don't want to. I want to remember my best friend. I feel like if I start forgetting about him, I'll be miserable.
I bury my face into the pillow and groan, flinching at the sound of three knocks coming from the door. I think I'm imagining it until I hear it again and louder this time.
The carpet is plush under my bare feet as I make my way to the door, pausing to peek at the hole. I'm half surprised to see Jax standing outside my door, holding what looks like a garment bag.
Jax is about an inch shorter than Mariano—still tall, but I'm not shocked by his height, given that a lot of men in my life are tall. But I guess he's kind of…easy on the eyes. He dresses casually—a leather jacket and a white t-shirt, black jeans, and boots, kinda like how my other brother, Sebastian, dresses up himself. Jax keeps his beard short and neat. And his hair is short at the sides and a little longer at the top but keeps it away from his face and swept back.
He knocks again. "I know you're behind the door, princess. Open up," he says in his deep voice.
I scowl at the way he calls me because I know it's meant to be an insult. Tightening the robe around me, I open the door and cross my arms. "What?"
Jax takes one look at me and scans down my body, his eyes lingering on my chest and I know what he sees because I'm not wearing any bra underneath the silk robe. Eyes up here, you perv. The pervert stifles a grin before he meets my eyes again. "Can I come in?"
"No. What do you want?"
He chuckles and holds the garment bag towards me. "This is for you."
"What's that?"
"Your wedding dress."
My heart sinks to my stomach at the thought of my wedding tonight. I don't really want to, but I take the garment bag from him and step back, my hand holding the door, intending to close it but then his hand shoots out to stop it.
"What are you doing?" I falter.
"I could really use your bathroom. I had a long drive." He shifts from one foot to the other. "Please?"
"Why don't you go take a potty in his room?" I wave my hand towards Mariano's suite.
"Potty? What am I three?" He chuckles, a small cute dimple showing to the left of his lips. "I can't. He's not there and I don't have a key." And then he bangs his hand at the door frame and he blows out air. "I REALLY need to take a piss."
I consider this for a beat before stepping aside and gesturing for him to enter. As soon as I do, he races towards the bathroom and closes it behind him. I guess he really needed to go.
With the garment bag draped over my arm, I saunter towards the bed, my eyes are drawn to the door that leads to Mariano's room and I pause, thinking about what Jax said at the door. If Mariano isn't in his room, then where is he? All the men in my life are always busy with the family business and I can imagine that Mariano must be the same.
I guess there isn't much difference in what awaits my life here, is there? The only difference is that he's not a man in my life. He's just a man.
As I ponder upon this, the door to the bathroom opens and Jax comes out, smiling after relieving himself. I toss him the signed prenup agreement and then lay the garment bag on the bed.
I zip open the bag and my eyes nearly bug out of my sockets as my jaw drops to the floor. "No friggin' way."
"What's wrong?"
"I'm not wearing that!"
Jax has the nerve to smile, crossing his arms across his broad chest. "Tough luck. It's either that or you get married in your silk robe." He winks, turns around, and leaves the room.
The wedding dress is fucking hideous. It looks like something out of an old movie.
There is no way I am wearing this!
Sure it must've been really trendy back in the 80s. So it should've stayed there!
Heck, I think my mom's wedding dress looked like this. It has a closed neck, long sleeves, and puffed shoulders—sheer with lace detail that I already know would be really itchy on my skin once I put it on. I'M getting itchy just looking at it right now!
And the skirt. Oh, god, the skirt. It's so poofy and frilly and I don't understand what's going on down there.
I grimace as I stare at the abomination in front of me. While I'm not very picky on fashion statements, I at least want to stay in my generation—not travel with Marty Mcfly in his DeLorean to borrow this dress.
Something blue, something new, something borrowed, and something old—surely, this must be a joke for something old?
Though going back to the past really appeals to me right now, considering my future is looking so bleak, I might be able to undo some things and not be where I am today—if only Mcfly gives me a ride.