Chapter Four

INA DAVIS

I squinted my eyes, groaning at the intense headache that welcomed me as I woke up. It felt like there was a party going on inside my head.

I let out a groan, squirming on my bed. I paused when I noticed something strange; since when was my bed this soft and comfy?

With my eyes still closed, I reached out, squishing the thick, soft material covering the bed. Nope, doesn't feel like something I own.

I forced my heavy lids open. It took me a second to realize I was in an unfamiliar environment.

My eyes widened, and I sprang up. Heart racing, I looked around the room in panic.

“Where am I?” I asked myself.

From the grey painted walls to the thick curtains, the expensive looking decor, I would say I was in a hotel room.

My roaming eyes caught my sweater, which was thrown in one corner of the bed. Did I take it off? Or someone did.

My bag was on the couch.

How?!

The events of last night started flooding back to my mind. I frowned, as I remembered how the crazy woman at the party slapped me. It was a good thing I was already in a low mood at that time. Else, I would have returned the favour one way or the other. Then we would have been telling a different story.

My brows furrowed together, realizing the that the last thing I remembered was drinking Christian’s wine at the rooftop. Add that to my ever growing list of terrible decisions, because I knew was a light weight. I probably got drunk after that.

But that did not explain how I got to where I was.

I winced at the intensity of the headache when I tried to remember what happened. The blurry image of a tall man standing over me came to my mind.

My heart skipped a beat.

A strange man. Did he bring me here? Did he… take advantage of me?

I looked down, checking my body for anything that was out of place. Surely if someone did something bad to me, I would know. Or not.

There were no scars on my stomach either. My organs were probably intact, because apart from the bad headache, I was doing fine.

I threw the duvet off me and crawled out of the bed. Picking up my bag, I brought out my phone.

It was past ten in the morning. Luckily, it was my day off. There were two missed calls from Christian. He had told me he would call and he did.

I would call him back. But first I had to get the hell out of wherever I was.

My roommate also left a text.

JULIA: Hey bicht! Where are yoi?

I sighed, rolling my eyes at the misspelled words. She probably came home drunk again. I was glad I did not get to deal with her nonsense yesterday. I didn't think I had the strength.

A sense of gloominess began to seep in when I remembered how down I was. I had gone to see my mother. Her condition was still the same, she could barely recognise me. I had been hoping to see that little part of her that still remembered me. I did not get to catch a glimpse of it, and it was…

Nope. No, not today. I shook my head, pushing away all unhealthy thoughts. There was no point thinking about problems I couldn't solve. They would only make me sad.

I looked around the place again. Waking up in an expensive hotel was one of the things on my bucket list for when I eventually got rich (call me delusional). Who knew it would happen this soon?

___________________

I scrunched my nose at the weird stain on my sweater while I was pushing the door open.

Is that vomit? I thought with disgust, as I locked the door.

I had washed my mouth and taken a quick shower, but I had nothing else to change into.

I looked around the hotel, impressed by how classy everything looked. It did not scream luxury, but something told me only people who could afford to wipe their asses with money bills could afford it.

It made me think back to the man who had probably brought me here. I tried hard, but all I could remember was the blurry image of him standing over me. He seemed to be wearing a suit. So probably a guest?

I scratched my head, clueless. I couldn't remember who he was, not that I knew anyone at the party apart from Christian. How was I supposed to know if anything happened?

I groaned, readjusting my strap bag over my shoulder.

I forced a smile when I noticed there was uniformed lady giving me weird looks. She nodded her head to greet me, and I greeted her back awkwardly. I looked very much out of place.

“Hi”, I greeted the guy at the reception.

He looked away from his computer, peering down at me from his glasses.

“Hello, ma’am. How may I help you?” He asked dryly.

I stared back at him, while trying to compose the story in my head, so that I sound less stupid than I already was.

“You may think this is weird, scratch that, it already is”. Dammit.

His brows furrowed slightly.

“The thing is, I was brought here last night by a stranger. I was kind of drunk so I don't quite remember much”, I explained, wincing internally. Way to not sound like an idiot Ina.

He blinked at me as if to ask; and?

“So I was wondering if there is a way for you to check so I can know who brought me?” And also if I was in debt or not, because there was no way I could pay for the hotel.

But then why would the man bring me here if he couldn't pay?

But what if he was expecting me to?

The look on the receptionist’s face was definitely judgemental. He sighed, before turning to his monitor.

I tapped my feet as my anxiety grew with every passing second. So far, it's been one issue after the other, and I hoped this was not another one.

“What's your name?” He asked.

“Ina. Ina Davis”, I replied expectantly.

“Your room has already been paid for if that is what you're worried about”, he said.

My shoulders relaxed in relief. But I couldn't help pursing my lips at the look on his face, like he knew I was a pauper who couldn't afford the hotel.

Sucker.

“Who brought me here?” I asked.

“We were asked not to disclose that information”, he said cooly.

“What?” That sounded ridiculous.

He stared at me with a look of finality, like there was no amount of convincing that would make me tell him.

“But why?” I asked, more to myself.

“That is an information I don't have”, he replied, turning to his monitor.

The man felt suspicious to me. Why did he not want me to know his name? And was it even legal to hide that information?

But then again, rich people can get away with anything.

“Fine then”, I said with resignment. “Goodbye”, I said.

“Bye”, he replied, still looking at the monitor.

I gave him a dirty look, before leaving the reception.

I furrowed my brows, trying very hard to remember what happened last night. Did he do something to me and was afraid it would put him in trouble if I knew who he was?

I ran my fingers through my hair, turning around to look at the reception. My eyes narrowed when I saw the receptionist greeting a guest, his face beaming with smiles.

So his face had not been screwed into a permanent scowl after all.

I shook my head, before leaving the hotel. He should respect people regardless of their appearance. What if I was some wealthy heiress in disguise? He would’ve lost his job, or worse blacklisted from any future jobs.

Maybe I should reduce the amount of dramas I watch.

____________________

The small apartment where I lived with my roommate wasn't much. One room and a smaller guest room where I stayed, a minimal sitting room and kitchen.

Everything about it was old- the peeling paintings on the wall, chipped wooden furniture, dull curtains and rugs. Which was fair, considering this was one of the cheapest estates. I happened to find my roommate who accepted me because she was going through a rough patch and needed the extra money, out of sheer luck.

Well at least I thought I was lucky, until I discovered what a mess Julia was.

There were two empty bottles laid across the floor, a dead cigarette on the couch, right next to a purple bra. My eyes lingered on the mysterious stain on the couch, which wasn't there yesterday.

The kitchen door was open, and from where I stood, I could see the dirty dishes. It was also her turn to take out the trash and she hadn't.

The icing on the cake? My lovely roommate was nowhere to be found. She had texted me she wouldn't be home for the next two days. So either I take care of the mess, or live with it. The latter wasn't an option.

I sighed, rubbing my fingers on my forehead.

I had been living with her for close to a year, so these kinds of things don't annoy me anymore. She was paying the lion's share of our rent, and I had nowhere else to go.

My phone began to ring. It was Christian. Damn, I wanted to call him.

Biting my lips, I answered the call.

“Ina?”

“Sorry I missed your call this morning. I was… asleep”, I explained.

I didn't want to tell him about what happened. Christian probably already thought I was clutz. I didn't want him thinking I was a reckless idiot too.

“That’s fine. How are you?”

“I’m feeling better”, I replied, dragging my feet towards the kitchen.

“Glad to hear that. I’m really sorry about yesterday”, he sighed.

“It's fine. You keep apologizing like what happened is your fault. You wanted to help me. Thanks for that, Christian”. A few hundred dollars was a lot for one night. Even if it can't compensate for the damage of being slapped in public.

Talking about compensation….

“I heard they tried to bribe you”, he said, with a hint of disdain in his voice.

“It's called compensation, Christian”, I replied, remembering the email I received this morning, where I was offered three thousand dollars.

“Same thing. Did you accept it?”

“I wish. Would've been three thousand dollars richer”, I replied with a click of my tongue.

He snorted.

I smiled, thinking back to the polite reply I sent to them. I knew they wouldn't tender my good will message to her. Pity.

“Are you… going to do anything about it?” He asked.

“Christian, I don't even have the money to hire a lawyer”, I said as a matter of fact. Apart from the money, these people were too powerful for me to pick a fight with them. I would lose.

“But if you could, would you?” He asked.

I furrowed my brows, trying to understand his question. There was no point thinking about what I would’ve done. The fact was that I couldn't do anything.

“I don't know. For now, I’m just going to put it behind me”, I said, wrinkling my nose at the half eaten chicken on the floor.

He was quiet for a while, before he sighed. “Fine, if that's what you want. It's probably for the best”.

“Yeah”.

“See you at work tomorrow. Bye”.

“Bye”.

A smile tugged at my lips once the call was over. I met Christian a month ago after I tripped on the porch steps and sprained my ankle.

It hurt like hell, but I got rewarded for the pain, when the tall, gorgeous, curly haired new guy helped me inside.

I could still remember the warmth in my cheeks as he helped me apply ice to my sprained ankle.

It was strange how quickly we became friends. Probably because it was hard to resist that dimpled smile of his that always had a hint of mischief.

I chuckled when I realised I was smiling. Yup, I had a crush on Christian.

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