CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Christopher the jerk: I'm here. Where are you?

He's waiting for me next to room 5009, what used to be his room. Good thing they haven't assigned it to anyone else yet. That could've put a dent in my plan. Would've destroyed my chance to prove my worth to Carter and Killian.

The part of getting his phone number was, in Carter's words, child's play.

After a couple of hours of digging, ta-dah—his website popped up. He had nothing on there but a Contact Us form. So, I did it. I contacted him. He emailed me back, and I informed him how to sneak into the hotel through the private elevator Killian and Carter use.

I also instructed him to wear a hoodie so he wouldn't be spotted.

The hotel will probably get alerts when Christopher's old room is broken into. By then, I'll already have the fucker on his knees, holding my fake gun to his head. I'll smile so wide while my two men barge in and end his life for real.

All of that's about to happen. I walk through the hotel's hallway, the hood of my black oversized hoodie hiding my identity. I brought it to the shop in my bag so Carter wouldn't find out I'm being sneaky.

That way, Christopher won't doubt me. He'll believe my story, how I hate Killian and Carter.

As I stand by the door to his room, I push the hood back down. My smile is wide as I find the security camera for two whole seconds. Just as fast, I hide my face again and twist to the door with the golden numbers on it.

5009.

My fingers curl around the fake gun in my hoodie pocket. I bought it after the guy broke into my apartment.

Not bothering to reply to his text, I knock.

Asshole opens up quickly, wearing a black hoodie and black jeans. Just as I instructed. Poor idiot is so eager to kill me that he'd do anything.

"Christopher."

"Amara." He beckons me to step inside and closes the door behind me. "Thought you got cold feet, pretty toy."

Before I take another step, his disgusting fingers are already on me. Pushing my hoodie back. Stroking my hair.

Operation Swallow Bile is set in motion.

"I would never. Bail on our secret date?" I bite my cheek from the inside. It's better than biting his fingers off. "It'll make the two assholes who run this place so mad for violating their code or rules or whatever, right?"

"Yes." He inches closer. "You know why I hate them. You, though? I thought you were their precious little princess."

His cologne defiles my nostrils. The sight of him is offensive to my eyes.

"I've never been their princess. Just their supplier. Not even that anymore since they terminated my contract as of last night."

"Have they?"

"Yes, I told you they have." Clearly, it's a lie. But then I think of Georgia, and well… "Said they got a better offer from this bitch Georgia and her bitchy flowers. That's why I'm here. That's why…"

"Yes?" His slimy tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip.

"You and I will have lots of dirty sex here tonight." I run a finger over his shaved jawline that feels like touching an eel. "Burn, break, destroy what's theirs. What do you say, big daddy?"

The need to vomit is present. Good thing Carter and Killian have done a decent job at training my gag reflex.

"Sounds like something I'd like." He tightens his grip on my hair, pulling violently. "Too good to be true. What's the catch?"

I don't flinch or squirm. My attention is focused on the heavy fake gun in my hoodie pocket. On my goal. One wrong move and this platinum-blond-haired fucker could call my bluff.

"No catch."

"Not good enough." His pale blue eyes glimmer cruelly. "Why are you doing this? You fucked them both and they found out you're a cheating whore?"

Relief washes over me. This is one of the questions I've been preparing myself for.

"I'm not a cheater." I tip my chin up as much as his punishing hold allows.

"Fine. Then option two. They were done passing you around like the meaningless cunt you are and got bored."

His words would've stung. Except neither of my men think I'm meaningless. We're in love. A sentiment Christopher probably hasn't shared with a soul in his miserable life.

He won't ever feel it, either. This is where he dies.

Here. Today.

Until that happens, though, I have a part to play. Gotta fake my reactions.

I pout, forcing my chin to wobble and my eyes to cry.

"I'll take that as a yes." He smirks, smug as fuck.

This is a win for him. For his bruised ego. His forehead might've healed, but the scar is deep inside his soul. A constant reminder of what a loser he is.

"Mm-hmm." I bob my head, wiping the tears as if they annoy me. "I want to hurt them back. To have our sweat and your cum"—gross!—"on the sheets of their precious hotel. On the floor. Everywhere. Then, as I said, we trash the place. Tell me you don't want the same."

The air changes around us as soon as the words leave my mouth. I sense it the second it happens. I'm more than a revenge fuck for him now. He's turned on by the images I've planted in his head. He's looking forward to having sex with me.

Meaning, I have him by the literal balls.

"I see." The evil lurking behind his eyes is on full display now. "Well, then. I'm going to grant you your wish. Bury my cock deep inside you. Make you bleed and come for hours while they think it's just another member fucking a whore in this room."

Yuck. Triple, quadruple yuck.

"Yes." Talking time is over. Carter and Killian should be here any minute, and I have a show to put on. "I'm up for anything. Any-fucking-thing."

"Good." His hand slithers to my neck, squeezing it while he pushes me to the wall behind me.

"Good what?" That he has a condom to fuck me with? That he called in sick for the day? His eyes give me nothing.

The vilest smirk known to man crawls up his lips. His hold around my throat is suffocating. My gut churns. Alarm bells go off in my head.

I thought he'd agree to revenge sex. That he'd be eager to get rid of his clothes, strip for me, and then I'd have him.

Apparently not.

Despite the risk of blowing my cover, I close my fingers on the gun in my pocket. If he plans on knocking me out and fucking my unconscious body, the bastard has another thing coming.

"Good thing I brought reinforcement." He shoves me harder against the wall, knocking my head on it.

"Reinforcement?" I scowl, ignoring the pain.

"You're the one who's asked me to ruin my old room." Dread constricts my throat as he leaves me for the door. "And with his help, we'll do just that."

Time slows when Christopher locks his fingers on the handle and pushes it down.

Another familiar face walks in. A man who's shorter than Christopher, about five feet tops. His blond hair pokes out from under his hoodie. His blue eyes are filled with hate.

"Preston, my loyal accountant. Meet Amara."

He rubs his hands before loosening his striped brown tie. "Let's get this party started."

Oh, it's a party they want?

I'll show them a party.

The best and last party of their lives.