"Thank you," I say to the room service attendant as he pushes the untouched trays out of the room from today's breakfast and snacks, leaving another tray of what looks like a scrumptious gourmet dish for lunch at the round dining table by the window.
He lingers at the door, looking hesitant as he faces me. "Is there something wrong with the food, Ma'am?"
"Hm?"
"It's just…You haven't touched it. If there's something wrong with your order, I'll let the Chef know so—"
"Oh, no. It's not the food… I'm…jet-lagged. So I don't have the appetite to eat." I don't even know if that's a thing. But whatever. I lift a small smile and start closing the door.
He raises his brows as if wanting to say something—or perhaps he's expecting a tip. "You can get your tip from the room next to mine. Just knock as loud as you can. He can be deaf sometimes." Yes. Captain Asshole would love to be disturbed, whatever he's doing right now.
The attendant gapes but I don't wait for his response and close the door. They keep sending food to my room despite my insistence that I didn't order it, and I just groaned when the hotel's operator said, "Your husband ordered for you, Ma'am."
It took a lot for me not to respond with: "He's not my husband. But I'd like to order a full-course meal of assassination to his room, please. And charge it to him, too, while you're at it."
Of course, I could only wish I said that.
Mariano hasn't come by to my room—not that I'm expecting him to, but I figure he would've at least checked in on his captive.
I didn't sleep much last night. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is the morgue and the last memory I have of J. I haven't cried again, though, which is probably good. I don't think I have any more tears. So I have a massive headache and I'm feeling extra bitchy today as I crawl back into bed, waiting for…I don't really know what I'm waiting for. There's really not much to do here.
The TV isn't working in my room—rather, I think it was arranged so I couldn't watch the news or any other channel for that matter. There's nothing but static. And I don't have my phone with me, so there's really nothing else to do but wait. Oh, I've tried calling New York but I should've already known he disabled my access to outside calls too. So unless the front desk offers a phone chat service to keep me company…
I think about my plans had I not found myself in this situation. I have a degree in Business Management and I've interned in one of my father's legitimate businesses in Manhattan. I was supposed to start working in SVR corp in a few months…after I convince him to let me work there, that is. He doesn't even need to hire me through nepotism. I was willing to undergo the normal interview process. He's totally against it though.
And now, I don't even have that chance anymore. My entire future has changed.
I snap my head towards the door to the adjoining room, wondering what the hell Mariano is doing in there. As soon as he left last night, I swept the room for any bugs or cameras and made sure the doors were locked—a habit I've had since I was a child because I was taught to always check if it was closed.
It bugged me that the door to the adjoining room was unlocked and I told myself perhaps the cleaning staff had probably just forgotten about it—which would be a bad service.
The room is quiet and all I hear is the sound of my breathing. I don't have anything with me. I only had my phone—which is currently in his hands. Other than a few bucks in my dress pocket last night, I have nothing. My wallet and purse were left in the hospital. I can't even bribe anyone with a dollar. Perhaps I should've just tipped the room service.
The more I think about all the things I don't have, the more the room gets quieter. How am I supposed to stay here? This is stupid. He could've at least allowed me to bring an overnight bag. But, of course, Captain Asshole wouldn't risk the chance of us stopping by my place.
I will myself to remember Jino's smiling face instead. He always smiled. The numbing pain in my chest is still there, and I don't think it will go away any time soon.
I wish it wouldn't because that would mean I've moved on.
And I don't want to. I want to remember my best friend. I feel like if I start forgetting about him, I'll be miserable.
I bury my face into the pillow and groan, flinching at the sound of three knocks coming from the door. I think I'm imagining it until I hear it again and louder this time.