Elena ducked under Johnathan's arm, slipping out of his trap before he could react. She walked quickly toward the entryway of the suite, her bare feet making no sound on the carpet.
She pressed her eye against the small brass peephole in the heavy door.
The hallway outside was packed. A sea of black camera lenses and blinding flashbulbs crowded the corridor. Standing right at the front of the mob was her half-sister, Haylee. Haylee's hands were pressed to her cheeks, her face twisted into a mask of exaggerated, frantic worry.
A cold sweat broke out on the back of Elena's neck as the memory of her past life threatened to choke her. The panic she had felt a year ago flashed in her mind, but it was instantly swallowed by a dark, bitter amusement. A cold smile curved the corners of her mouth.
Johnathan walked slowly toward the wet bar in the living area. He picked up a crystal glass, dropped a single ice cube into it, and poured a splash of water. He leaned against the marble counter, watching her with a detached, cynical expression.
He took a sip of the ice water. "Looks like your fiancé's little trick worked," he said, his tone dripping with mockery.
Elena turned around. She leaned her back flat against the door, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her eyes were sharp and lethal as they locked onto him.
"If that door opens, the stock price of Chase Capital takes a hit right alongside mine," she stated, her voice perfectly steady.
Johnathan lowered the glass. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed his dark eyes, quickly replaced by a glint of appreciation for her ruthless logic.
The pounding on the door grew louder, more frantic.
"Open the door! Hotel management!" a muffled voice shouted from the hallway. The metallic scrape of a master key sliding into the lock echoed in the quiet suite.
Elena's eyes darted around the room. The floor was still littered with evidence.
She moved fast. She walked over to the scattered pile of her lace underwear, kicked them forcefully under the heavy velvet sofa, and kicked Johnathan's discarded tie under the armchair.
A sharp click sounded from the door. The heavy brass handle turned.
The door was shoved open violently from the outside.
A blinding wall of white light exploded into the dim room. The rapid-fire clicking of camera shutters sounded like a machine gun going off, capturing every inch of the scene.
Haylee pushed her way to the front, her hands flying to her mouth. She let out a loud, theatrical gasp that echoed over the clicking cameras.
Darron shoved past the reporters right behind her. His face was a carefully constructed masterpiece of devastation and boiling anger. His chest heaved as he stared at the room.
Elena stood dead center in the living room. Her spine was straight, her chin lifted. She looked down at the invading crowd with the cold, detached superiority of a queen looking at peasants.
Darron marched toward her, his eyes wide with fake heartbreak. He reached out, his hands aiming for her shoulders to play the role of the betrayed, desperate lover.
Elena felt a wave of physical revulsion hit her stomach. She stepped sharply to the side, dodging his grasp completely.
Darron's hands grabbed empty air. He stumbled slightly, looking foolish.
Haylee's eyes widened in genuine shock. She hadn't expected Elena to reject Darron's touch. Elena was supposed to be crying, begging for forgiveness.
The paparazzi immediately shifted their lenses, capturing Darron's awkward, empty hands and Elena's icy glare.
From the shadows of the bedroom hallway, Johnathan stepped into the light. He had pulled on a dark silk robe, but it hung open, clearly displaying the angry red scratches trailing across his chest and stomach, as well as the faint red lines peeking out from the edge of the robe where they continued onto his back.
The entire room stopped breathing. The frantic clicking of the cameras died for one stunned second. The paparazzi stared in absolute shock. The man in the room wasn't some random male model. It was Johnathan Chase.
Darron's face drained of color, turning a sickly shade of gray. His jaw dropped. He had paid the hotel staff to drug her and put a random escort in the room.
Johnathan stood tall, his presence suffocating the room. The sheer weight of his dark, menacing aura made the reporters in the front row take a subconscious step backward.
He walked slowly to stand beside Elena. He looked down at Darron, a dangerous, mocking light flickering in his eyes.
"Did you really think your pathetic little payoff to the hotel manager would go unnoticed?" Johnathan asked, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that commanded the entire room. He took a deliberate step forward, his sheer size dwarfing the smaller man. "I bought the manager out double, fired your cheap escort, and took the keycard myself. So, care to explain why you're breaking into my room, Darron?"
Darron swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He forced his fists to clench, trying to regain control of the narrative. "You destroyed my relationship!" he yelled, his voice cracking slightly.
Haylee saw the cameras starting to focus on Johnathan. She quickly stepped into the light, squeezing a few tears from her eyes. "Elena, how could you do this? How could you make such a horrible mistake?" she sobbed for the press.
Elena looked at Haylee's fake tears. A sneer of pure, unfiltered disgust twisted her lips.
She cleared her throat.
"Shut up," Elena commanded. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp as a razor blade, cutting through the noise and freezing everyone in their tracks.
