Chapter 5: An Unexpected Wake-Up Call.
(Rory's POV)
The world felt like it was swaying, a sluggish, disorienting haze clouding my senses as I squirmed weakly in Ethan's grip. His arm was still around my waist, steady and infuriatingly solid, and the warmth of his touch sent an unwanted flutter through my chest. My face burned, the heat of embarrassment mixing with the wine's lingering fog. "W-What… are you doing?" I muttered, my voice barely a whisper, slurred and unsteady as I tried to push against him, my movements clumsy and uncoordinated.
Ethan's lips twitched into that maddening smirk, his blue eyes glinting with amusement, but before he could say anything, my eyelids grew impossibly heavy. The bar's dim lights blurred into a golden smear, the soft sound of jazz fading into a distant hum. My body slackened, exhaustion and alcohol claiming me without mercy, and the last thing I felt was my head lolling against his shoulder, his steady heartbeat a faint rhythm against my cheek as I slipped into darkness.
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A dull, throbbing headache was the first thing I registered as I stirred from sleep, similar to a relentless pounding that felt like someone was hammering nails into my skull. I groaned, the sound low and groggy, my fingers twitching against the silken sheets beneath me.
' Sheets? '
My brow furrowed, confusion cutting through the fog. Why was I covered in bedsheets? My own bed had a worn cotton comforter, not this smooth, luxurious fabric that felt like it cost more than my monthly rent.
My eyes snapped open, the world coming into sharp, disorienting focus. Panic clawed at my chest as I bolted upright, the plush comforter slipping from my body. I wasn't in my apartment. This wasn't my bed, my room, or anything remotely familiar. The ceiling above me was adorned with intricate crown molding, its elegant curves catching the soft golden glow of the morning sun filtering through floor-to-ceiling drapes.
A chandelier hung overhead, its crystal ornaments scattering prisms of light across the expensively decorated walls, each one adorned with tasteful art that screamed wealth. The air carried a faint scent of lavender and fresh linen, a stark contrast to the cozy, slightly cluttered smell of my modest apartment.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I clutched the fabric of my clothes, still the same one from last night.
' Thank God...'. My pulse calmed down as I took in the grandeur around me. Marble flooring gleamed underfoot, reflecting the sunlight in a way that made the room feel almost ethereal. A sleek, modern desk sat in one corner, its surface bare except for a single vase of white orchids. The furniture was all dark wood and plush upholstery, the kind of elegance you'd find in a five-star hotel. And that's when it hit me: I was in a hotel room. A damn expensive one.
"What the hell happened last night?" I whispered, my voice hoarse and trembling as I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. The bar. The wine. Ethan's infuriating smirk. My fist gripping his collar. And then… nothing. A black void where my memory should have been. How had I gotten here? And more importantly, who had brought me here?
Before I could spiral further, a soft sound broke through my thoughts, the faint patter of water droplets hitting the floor. My breath hitched, my gaze darting toward the bathroom door just as it swung open. My stomach plummeted as Ethan stepped out, completely at ease, his muscular torso bare and glistening with droplets of water that trailed down his toned chest and abs like liquid silver. A towel hung loosely around his waist, teasingly low, while another was in his hand, casually ruffling his damp, tousled blond hair.
For a fleeting moment, I forgot how to breathe. My cheeks flushed a traitorously light shade of red, my eyes betraying me as they lingered on the sharp lines of his body, the effortless confidence in his movements. Then his lips curled into that insufferable smirk, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine with a glint of amusement that snapped me out of my stupor.
"Morning, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice smooth as velvet, rich with that lazy confidence that made my skin prickle with irritation. "Sleep well?"
My mouth opened, but no words came out. The sheer audacity of the situation. Waking up in a stranger's hotel room, with him... standing there half-naked and smirking, left me momentarily speechless.
My hands clenched into fists, the fabric of my top, bunching under my fingers as I fought to process the mortification, the confusion, the rage bubbling up inside me.
Ethan let out a low chuckle, crossing the room with an easy, almost predatory grace that only made my anger flare hotter. "Relax," he murmured, tilting his head as he studied my flustered expression. "Before you start overthinking things, let me make one thing clear... I didn't touch you." His smirk deepened, his voice dropping an octave, teasing and deliberate. "Not that you weren't tempting, but I'm not in the habit of taking advantage of unconscious women. I have standards, you know."
Heat surged to my face, not from relief but from the sheer nerve of him. As if implying I wasn't worth taking advantage of was somehow a compliment? "You—" I sputtered, my embarrassment morphing into indignation. "You're such a—"
"A gentleman?" he offered, his tone dripping with mock sincerity as he quirked an eyebrow, running the towel down his arm with a casual flick.
I clenched my jaw, exhaling sharply through my nose as I shoved aside the tangled mess of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. There were more pressing matters than trading barbs with this arrogant stranger. Where was I? How had I ended up here? And why was Ethan acting like this was all some amusing little adventure?
Before I could fire back, Ethan gestured toward the nightstand with a casual wave of his hand. "You might want to check your phone, by the way," he said offhandedly, picking up his own phone and scrolling through it with an infuriating lack of concern. "A certain someone seemed very concerned about your whereabouts last night." He shot me a knowing sideways glance, his smirk softening into something almost curious.
A pit formed in my stomach as I reached for my phone with trembling fingers. I fumbled to unlock the screen, my heart sinking as the notifications loaded. My blood ran cold. Over a hundred missed calls. My eyes scanned the list in disbelief, my brows furrowing as I saw ten from my mom and dad. That was expected, they'd be worried after I didn't show up at home last night. But as I scrolled further, my breath caught in my throat. The overwhelming majority... ninety missed calls were from Julian.
"Why are they all from Julian?" I whispered, my voice barely audible as I stared at the screen, my fingers tightening around the phone. I know I declined his call last night, but this? This was excessive, even for him. A gnawing unease crept up my spine, twisting in my gut as I tried to make sense of it. Julian was my rock, my childhood best friend, the one person who could always read me like an open book. But ninety calls? That wasn't just concern. That was panic.
My mind raced, fragments of last night flickering like a broken film reel. The bar, the wine, Ethan's relentless teasing. Had I said something to Julian afterwards? Did I mention where I was? I couldn't remember, and the blank spots in my memory only fueled my growing panic. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to focus. First, I needed to reassure my parents.
I dialed my mom's number, my fingers trembling as I pressed the phone to my ear. The line barely rang before her frantic voice answered, sharp with worry. "Rory?! Oh, thank God! Where are you? Are you okay?!"