Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 39: Chapter 39

DESTINY
Waking up to find the exquisite suite empty was not nearly as bad as looking at myself the next morning. I squeaked at the hot mess I saw reflected in the ceiling to floor mirror while I peed.
Did Marat wake me up in the middle of the night to sign something?
I had a blurry memory—or was it a dream—of him teasing me with deliciously naughty words after shoving a pen in my hand and telling me to write my name on a piece of paper?
After that, he fucked me so good, I came until I passed out. But that part was not a dream. The ache between my legs was proof enough.
Ugh. My reflection stared back at me, and I was a total mess. My hair was sticking up on one side and flattened on the other. The eye makeup I wore to work was smeared down my face.
I supposed after countless rounds of sweaty, coma-inducing sex, looking like a drugged out raccoon the morning after was a fair price to pay.
There was nothing to be done for it except a hot shower, which I was definitely going to take. I spied a fluffy white robe hanging on the back of the door and grinned.
Surely, Marat wouldn’t mind if I got cleaned up before making myself scarce. He’d said something about a gala, but I doubted he meant it. Besides, I had to go see if I still had a job.
I cringed at the idea of having to put my work clothes back on. But whatever. It wasn’t like I had a choice.
Finding a new toothbrush in a package, I opened it and used some peppermint toothpaste to clean my teeth. A complimentary mouthwash sat on the vanity, and I used that next.
After that, I pulled back the glass door to the enormous shower. Playing with the knobs for a few minutes, I finally figured it out and had all six heads pouring luxuriously hot water from different directions to the middle of the stall. Then I stepped under the spray and sighed.
I used muscles I’d ignored for way too long last night, and the water did a fantastic job of massaging my sore spots. Maybe Marat really was a fallen angel with all the mystical powers of one.
No one had ever made me feel like he did. It was stupid of me to feel attached to the man.
Last night couldn’t have meant much to him. He was like the walking, talking definition of a rich playboy. And I was just a fluffy waitress.
Yeah, he definitely didn’t mean the invite. I’ll just shower, dress, and leave.
Refusing to let uncertainty taint the memory of last night, I concentrated on getting clean. Morning afters didn’t have to be awkward. I was an adult. We had sex.
A lot of it. But no biggie.
The soap lining the shelf inside the shower stall was decidedly masculine, some upscale brand I’d seen in magazines. Next to it were bergamot and lavender scented bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash supplied by the hotel.
I used all of it. I knew it was silly, but I could not resist the temptation of smelling like Marat when I left his penthouse suite. So, yeah, I used everything I could find.
Sure, I mean, I showered to get clean. Washing off sleep and everything else that clung to my skin from the night before was just necessary. But I didn’t want to lose him just yet. Keeping his scent on my skin seemed like a good way to delay the unexpected pang of impending loss I was experiencing.
Using one of the thick towels to pat myself dry, I took the small bottle of lotion from the vanity and rubbed it on my skin. It felt really good, and it was unscented, which was a bonus. It didn’t take away from the scent of Marat’s soap.
When I was finished, I wrapped my hair in a towel and shrugged on the thick robe. I never had the time or the money to pamper myself with expensive toiletries, and it was an experience.
Money couldn't buy happiness, but it could buy a lot of cool shit. Like a night in a really nice fucking suite.
I frowned, thinking of the sad, empty look I’d caught in Marat’s impossibly dark eyes last night. I wondered if all the money in the world was worth feeling that way.
I did not know him well enough to make assumptions, but that didn’t stop me. Marat was so damn handsome. But I imagined it wasn’t the gift everyone assumed.
I never really understood the meaning of the word charisma, but thinking of Marat as I combed my hair, the word just popped inside my head. And it fit.
He had charisma in spades. That special something that made everyone want to be near him, to touch him, to take from him. Protective feelings I never knew I possessed rose inside me.
No wonder he looked so bored and aloof when I’d first laid eyes on him at Lux. He must have gotten used to keeping himself detached just to stave off disappointment.
For some reason, that made me terribly sad. It made me want to hug him tightly and tell him everything was okay.
As if someone like me could somehow offer someone like him comfort or solace.
Fuck.
I was so dumb. What could I possibly give him he couldn’t get from someone else?
Besides, I was clearly just a once off in his book. Marat hadn’t even bothered to stick around to say goodbye.
I sighed and shook my head, wondering if the hotel left any complimentary deodorant. I found his and used it.
Las Vegas was in the middle of a fucking desert. Even though I was leaving the hotel to go home, I was not about to attempt it without the stuff.
I shook the towel around my head, used his comb once more, then opened the bedroom door, ready to put my clothes on and get back to my life.
I had no idea there was a surprise waiting for me on the other side.