As dawn's first pale light slipped through the curtains, Clare woke up aching, every tiny movement making her wince. The man beside her was still asleep. He was almost unfairly handsome—thick brows, a sharply cut nose—but even in sleep, his forehead was creased with tension.
She couldn't remember when she'd finally drifted off, but the sudden panic to find her phone snapped her into action. It lay shattered on the floor, and she scrambled to gather the pieces, praying her mother hadn't called. Soon, she'd have the money for her mom's surgery. Soon, things would finally get better.
The second she powered it on, her phone exploded with missed calls and messages—over thirty missed calls and more than twenty texts, all from Fiona Lang, demanding to know where she was. But the last message made her stomach drop: "Where were you last night? You left Mr. Lewis waiting all night!"
Left waiting all night?
Clare glanced back at the man in the bed. Had she gone to the wrong room? Panic clawed at her chest as she spotted the room key on the table. The number 836 was engraved right there. She'd been such a nervous wreck last night, she'd walked straight into the wrong room. Worst mistake ever.
How the hell was she supposed to explain this when he woke up? Sorry, I accidentally walked into the wrong room?
Moving quickly, she pulled on the man's shirt. Her own clothes were way too torn up to wear after the wild night before. Keeping one eye on the bed to make sure he was still asleep, she stuffed the cash from the table into her bag. Wrong room or not, after everything that had happened, she figured she'd earned it. Before leaving, she scribbled a note on a piece of paper from the nightstand: "Service fee collected!"
When Lucien Bradley woke, Clare was already gone. He picked up the note she'd left behind. Service fee collected! His eyes slid to the now-empty nightstand, and a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. Did she really think she could just walk away like that?
He checked the time. Crap. He had a meeting this morning. After a quick shower, he ordered a fresh suit from the hotel lobby. Just before heading out, something on the floor caught his eye—a phone case. He picked it up. A cheerful, round-faced girl with dimples smiled back at him from the attached photo. The man chuckled under his breath.
"So that's who you are," he murmured. "You're mine now."
