Kael’s POV.
The moment I stepped into my suite, I felt the weight of the evening settle heavily on my shoulders. The room was massive and luxurious, with every detail crafted for comfort and style. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered an incredible view of Paris at night. The Eiffel Tower stood tall in the distance, glowing like a beacon of gold against the dark sky.
It was the kind of view people dreamed about, the kind that should have left me in awe. But as I stood there, looking at the city that seemed so alive, I couldn’t feel anything. Not excitement. Not awe. Nothing.
I loosened my tie and walked to the small bar in the corner of the room, grabbing the champagne bottle I had brought back from dinner. The cork was already popped, and the liquid fizzed softly as I poured it into a crystal glass. Picking up the glass, I swirled it slowly without even looking at it. The bubbles rose and popped, but they brought me no joy. I sank into the plush armchair by the window, letting out a long, tired sigh. The silence in the room was thick, almost suffocating, pressing against my ears like a weight I couldn’t shake.
My thoughts wandered, as they often did when I was alone. They drifted back to dinner, to Aria sitting stiffly across from me, her expression cold and distant. She barely smiled, barely spoke, and when she did, it was to challenge me or brush off whatever I said. She was frustrating in every possible way-too serious, too guarded, too stubborn. I could still see the way she looked at me during dinner, her green eyes full of quiet judgment, like she couldn’t believe she was stuck with me. “She’s impossible,” I muttered under my breath, taking a long sip of champagne. The fizzy liquid bubbled on my tongue, but it did nothing to lift my mood.
I leaned my head back against the chair, staring at the ceiling as the silence grew louder. It was the kind of silence that made you restless, that made you want to break it, even if you didn’t know how. Just as I reached for the bottle to pour another glass, my phone buzzed on the table next to me. The sharp vibration pulled me out of my thoughts, and I glanced at the screen. A small smirk tugged at the corner of my lips when I saw the message.
“Are you free?”
I didn’t need to guess who it was. The saleswoman from the boutique earlier had been all too eager to flirt with me. I had made sure to slip her my number, knowing she wouldn’t resist using it.
Without hesitating, I picked up the phone and called her. She answered on the second ring, her voice soft and teasing. “You called me so quickly,” she said with a light, playful laugh.
“You messaged me first,” I replied, leaning back in the chair. My voice dropped to a low, smooth tone as I continued, “Why don’t you come by? Room 712. I could use some company tonight.”
There was a pause, and I could almost hear the smile in her voice when she spoke again. “Are you sure? You’re engaged, aren’t you?”
“Engagements are just business arrangements,” I said dismissively, my tone flat and matter-of-fact. “This isn’t about that. This is personal.”
She laughed softly, a sound that was as confident as it was amused. “Alright, then. I’ll be there soon,” she said, and the line went dead.
It didn’t take long-twenty minutes, maybe less. I heard the knock on the door just as I finished the last sip of champagne in my glass. Setting the glass down on the table, I stood and walked over to the door, already smirking. When I opened it, she was standing there, and for a moment, I let my eyes take her in.
She was stunning, just as I’d expected. Her long legs were accentuated by the high slit in her red dress, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right ways. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, framing her sharp cheekbones and mischievous smile. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how beautiful she was.
“You’re punctual,” I said, stepping aside to let her in.
“I aim to please,” she replied, her voice dripping with flirtation as she walked past me into the suite.
The scent of her perfume filled the room-a soft, sweet fragrance that was subtle but intoxicating. She paused in the middle of the room, turning to face me. Her eyes sparkled as they flicked toward the windows. “Nice view,” she said, nodding toward the Eiffel Tower glowing in the distance.
“It’s alright,” I replied, though my eyes weren’t on the city behind her.
She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that filled the quiet room. “So, what now?” she asked, stepping closer to me.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I closed the distance between us, my hand brushing against her waist as I pulled her closer.
The rest of the night felt like a blur. Her laughter echoed in the room, her touch was warm and inviting, and for a few hours, the weight on my shoulders seemed to disappear. With her, there were no obligations, no expectations. There were no deals to negotiate, no appearances to maintain. It was just the two of us, and for that brief moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist.
She whispered my name softly, her voice drowsy as the night wore on. The sheets were tangled, her hair spilling across the pillows like dark waves. She turned to face me, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “You’re trouble, you know that?” she murmured, her voice low and playful.
I chuckled, running a hand through my hair as I sat up. “I’ve been told,” I replied, smirking as I reached for my wallet on the nightstand.
Sliding out of bed, I pulled out a thick wad of cash-five thousand euros-and placed it neatly on the table beside her. “For you,” I said casually as I began pulling on my shirt.
She frowned, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around herself. “I’m not an escort,” she said firmly, her voice steady.
“I know,” I replied with a shrug, not bothering to look at her. “Think of it as a thank-you gift. You didn’t have to come here tonight, but you did. This is just my way of showing appreciation.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at the money. “You’re awful, you know that?” she said, her tone sharp but calm.
“I’ve heard worse,” I said, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt. “But I’m honest. This was a one-time thing. Don’t get attached.”
She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she began gathering her things. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” she said, slipping into her heels. “You’re not exactly prince charming.”
I opened the door for her, leaning against the frame as I watched her step into the hallway. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, the sound fading as she walked away. She didn’t look back.
Closing the door behind her, I leaned against it and let out a long sigh. The room was quiet again, too quiet, and the scent of her perfume lingered faintly in the air.
I poured myself another glass of champagne and returned to the armchair by the window. The city stretched out before me, glowing and alive, but I felt strangely detached from it all. For a brief moment, I wondered what Aria was doing. Was she asleep already, curled up in that massive suite of hers? Or was she staring out at this same view, thinking about all the ways she hated me?
It didn’t matter. What happened tonight was necessary. A distraction from the weight of everything else.
The night wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. By morning, this would be nothing more than a distant memory, and Aria would never know. This was the life I’d chosen-a life of deals, games, and lies. And I was damn good at it.