Viola 's POV
I'm not sure what surprises me more;the fact that I'm in the backseat of a luxury car with a man I just met, or the fact that I haven't demanded to be dropped off at the next red light.
This isn't like me. I don't follow strangers out of clubs.
I don't take spontaneous rides to upscale hotels.
And I certainly don't pretend to be in a relationship with a beautiful, clearly wealthy man.
Yet here I am, sitting stiffly beside Garrett as the city lights blur past us.
The car purrs as it cruises through the downtown streets, silent and plush inside. Even the leather smells expensive.
I keep my hands folded in my lap, resisting the urge to fidget.
Garrett doesn't say much, but there's a calm about him, like this isn't at all strange.
Like he knows I won't bolt.
"You okay?" he finally asks, voice low and smooth.
I glance at him, then look quickly away. His profile is too perfect up close.
All ocean blue eyes and pink cupid bow lips "Fine. Just wondering how I ended up in the Batmobile."
He huffs, eyes still on the phone in his hand. "You mean my car?"
"It's sleek. Intimidating and macho. Possibly hiding gadgets." I grouse seriously.
He makes a low sound of amusement, his blue eyes twinkling. "Sadly, no gadgets. Just leather seats and overpriced soundproofing." he sounds genuinely forlorn and that helps to loosen me up even more.
"Ah, so you can hold secret spy meetings."
"Exactly."
His tone is light, teasing.
But I still feel like I'm out of my depth here.
I'm a high school dropout turn club waitress with a sick mother and a fridge that contains a questionable cup of yogurt and one sad-looking cucumber.
He's... not that.
"Where are we going, exactly?" I ask, desperately trying to keep my mind off things.
He glances over at me, assessing. "I meant what I said. You helped me out tonight and like I said I booked a suite. I've been staying there for a while and there's a private room you can use. Just to rest, get off your feet. You've probably been running around all night."
I narrow my eyes. "And I'm just supposed to believe this is all... innocent?" I challenge with a hard voice.
He lifts a perfectly arched brow. "You think I'm trying to seduce you?"
"You're a rich guy who just invited a broke waitress to his hotel room. The question kind of asks itself."
His lips twitch, amused. "Fair. But no. I don't take advantage of women. And I don't mix gratitude with lust."
"Convenient rule," I mutter.
The car glides to a stop in front of the towering skyline of The Halcyon.
Of course. The most expensive hotel in the city.
I blink at the gold-trimmed entrance like it might bite me.
Garrett gets out first and opens my door before I can reach for the handle.
I sigh and step out, pulling my cardigan tighter around me.
The doorman gives Garrett a respectful nod. He doesn't even glance at me.
Probably assumes I'm some escort.
Figures.
Sighing inwardly, I let the man lead me inside through polished marble floors and ceilings that stretch up like cathedral domes.
The lobby itself has a floor to ceiling mirror that reflects my flushed cheeks and frizzy hair.
I look like a deer that accidentally wandered into a palace.
The scent of fresh flowers and something more expensive linger in the air, completing the image of prestige.
Even the front desk manager greets Garrett with the kind of respect usually reserved for royalty.
"Mr. Moreau," the man says with a polite bow of the head. "Welcome."
Ah so that's his last name. Garrett Moreau.
(It sounds so familiar...)
"Thank you." Garrett gives him a nod and turns to me. "Come on."
He walks briskly towards the private elevator, long legs eating up the distance like it was nothing.
With an audible gulp I hurry to follow.
Stepping in with him, the man languidly swipes his key card against the panel and the machine smoothly begins it's ascent.
The elevator ride is short but it still feels like the longest two minutes of my life.
I clutch the strap of my purse tightly, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.
For the upteemth time, I'm questioning myself.
What am I even doing? Following a man I just met to his hotel room like some naive girl who's never watched a thriller movie before?
But what could I do? Stick it out in the bar till that Jessica woman comes find me? No. No way. The lady was slightly terrifying. And probably unhinged.
"So," I start as the elevator number increseas, trying to sound casual, "Do you always pick your fake girlfriends out of nightclubs?"
He makes a soft sound. "No. You're my first."
"Lucky me," I cheer sarcastically.
He just smiles at me, the bastard.
The elevator pings as we reach our destination.
The moment the doors slide open, I'm met with the soft glow of warm lights, clean marble floors, and a heavy silence that seems far removed from the chaos of the club.
Garrett gestures for me to step out first. I hesitate for a second, glancing sideways at him.
His hand is casually resting in his pocket, his other arm slightly extended in a gentlemanly offer.
Nothing about him screams danger or trouble. If anything, he looks knowing.
"I promise, you'll be safe here," he says, sensing my hesitation.
"Okay," I mumble, stepping out.
The suite is gorgeous. I almost gasp. It's not even a room. It's an apartment in the sky.
Floor-to-ceiling windows show off the cityscape, glittering like stars in the night.
There's a fireplace, velvet couches, a dining table big enough for ten.
My boots click softly against the clean tiles as I follow him inside.
"Let me grab you a drink," he offers, heading toward a small minibar. "Water? Wine? Something stronger?"
"Just water, please." My voice sounds dry.
He returns with a cold glass of water and hands it to me.
Our fingers brush, and for a second, there's an electric tension in the air.
It feels weird, almost uncertain.
"Thank you," I say, sipping quickly, using the glass as a barrier between me and everything else.
Garrett steps back and leans lightly against the counter, observing me. "I'm sorry about the scene back there. Jessica can be... intense."
I snort. "That's one word for it," I murmur.
"I didn't mean for you to get involved. Honestly, I just thought- well, you seemed kind. I didn't think it'd escalate like that."
"It's not your fault." I pause, then sigh. "Okay, maybe it is a little. But I said yes, didn't I?"
He laughs softly. "You were a better fake girlfriend than most real ones I've had."
I laugh at that, feeling a little hysterical.