I slipped into the suite, moving with the silence of a shadow. The room was heavy with the scent of our night together—a lingering mix of her perfume and the cool air from the cracked balcony door.
I looked at the bed, and my heart slowed. Sasha hadn't moved; she was a golden silhouette against the white silk, her breathing deep and rhythmic, her hair a chaotic halo on the pillow.
I walked to the nightstand and picked up the note I'd left her.
Business called. Stay put. You're mine. - D
I stared at the words for a second. They belonged to the man who had walked out an hour ago. I tore the paper into tiny, silent fragments, letting them flutter into the wastebasket like confetti from a war I'd already won. There was no need for her to know I was ever gone.
I turned and moved toward the bathroom, shedding my clothes as I went. My skin felt tight, humming with the residual adrenaline of the night and the scent of Monet's expensive tobacco and sweat.
