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But then again, it made sense why she thought that. I’d only date or marry a sensible, successful man, not because I loved him, but because we were good together and getting married made financial sense.
I cringe at how terrible that sounds. Even more so when I realize it’s the truth. Of course, there were a lot of one-night stands, which my mother didn’t know about. But all that was purely because I was horny. A sensible and boring woman has needs too, you know. But sex is different than being in a relationship. If I had sex with someone, I didn’t care whether he was rich, successful, had a fancy car, or was marriage material. He just had to have a nice ass, broad shoulders, and a cock that could satisfy me, even if it was just for one night.
Then, it didn’t matter if he wasn’t funny, or that he called his mother daily, or whatever flaw he had. It didn’t matter because I wasn’t going to stick around anyway.
One-night stands were easy.
Relationships are not.
Maybe I’m not meant to be in a relationship. Those grandchildren my mother and father keep hinting at might never happen, and that’s okay. Besides, I’m focusing on my career right now and am not ready for a commitment. I don’t know if I ever will be, either. And that’s okay. Right now, I’m enjoying my job, apart from this fucking fiasco, and I wouldn’t change a thing. My life is good and comfortable, and I only have to look out for myself. That’s how it’s always been, and I prefer it that way.
I lay in the dark room, covered by blankets, and listening to the wind howling outside. It’s unsettling, and I can’t stop the feelings of dread bubbling up inside me. What if this storm doesn’t die down by morning? What if I have to spend another night in this place without any heat? Will I freeze to death, lose fingers, or a foot to frostbite?
I groan as I think about being stuck in this place for longer than I should be with Anson Mallard. His reputation definitely precedes him, and I’ve heard awful things about him. Some of them are true, like he’s arrogant and self-righteous. He thinks the sun shines out of his ass and that he's God’s gift to women everywhere. He’s rude and abrupt, curt and condescending.
But then again, there’s a softness in his eyes. He even apologized for being a jerk to me when I was scared in the dark hallway. Hewasa jerk, despite whether I was afraid or not.
Truthfully, Iwasscared, and I still am. I’m afraid that I’m going to allow myself to feel something for him, even if it is out of desperation. You know what they say about a lack of options. I don’t want my fear to make me vulnerable and desperate for attention and affection. I don’t want to let this fear inside me drive me into the arms of a guy I cannot stand to be around for more than five minutes. But who I cannot stop thinking about no matter how much I despise him.
I close my eyes, still listening to the howling of the wind outside, and somehow it slowly ushers me to the sleep I have been craving for the last few hours.
TEN
~ Anson ~
My feet sink into the cold snow as I take labored breaths. The air is cold around me, and as I breathe it in, it chills my lungs and the rest of my body from the inside. The tightness in my chest doesn’t go away, no matter how hard I try, and the air feels thinner. With every step I take, I feel colder and colder. I can’t see anything around me apart from snow, a thick veil that makes seeing my own hand in front of me nearly impossible. The wind howls around me, ready to blow me over at any given moment.
I’m defenseless against the forces of the wind, and the cold creeps deeper and deeper into my soul. My hands shake with terror and helplessness, and I know that no matter which way I go or how hard I try to get out of this storm, I’m lost in a sea of snow and ice.
The blaring of my alarm cuts through the silence, and my eyes open abruptly. There’s no more snow around me, and I’m back in the confines of my hotel room, safely sandwiched between layers and layers of blankets. I lay perfectly still for a moment, my brain coming to terms with my surroundings, and I let out a slow sigh of relief.
I reach over and swipe across the screen of my phone, silencing the alarm. There’s still a ringing in my ears as I lay still for a few more seconds. Somehow, I expect it to be light in my room, but it's not. And that instantly worries me. The weight of the blankets over me still provides me with the warmth to stop the shivers from consuming my body, but not enough to fully satiate the need for comfort. I didn’t sleep very well, especially not after I left Kinsley’s room. Even though we called a truce, I still feel uneasy about it and guilty for being a jerk to her. Neither one of us has ever been in a situation like this, and I know we’re both not quite sure what to do.
Did the snowstorm clear up? Can we get off this mountain and get back home? Will we have to stay here for a bit longer?
I sit upright in bed, a cold chill running down my spine as I hear the wind still howling outside my window. Somehow I think that the prospect of going home is a long shot, but I don’t want to sound like a pessimist. Besides, it’s the week of Christmas, and I don’t feel like spending it stranded in the mountains.
Although I don’t mind the cold, this is not how I want to spend Christmas. I plan on going to Times Square to spend quality time with my two best friends, Shona and Lee, watching the fireworks from Central Park and having a nice meal. Afterward, I’d get a call from my mother in Florida wishing me a Merry Christmas and telling me how hot it is where they are. She’s been wanting me to come to visit them for Christmas for a few years now, but I can’t seem to get myself to go. Being alone and miserable during the holidays is one thing. But it’s an entirely different thing to be alone and miserable in a hot and humid place. No thanks, Mom.
Throwing the layers of blankets off me, I climb out of bed and walk to the window. I pull the curtain to the side, and all I see is white. I can’t see out of the window at all, and that’s even more worrying.
I get dressed in warm attire, boots, and a jacket and grab my phone.
As I walk down the hallway, it’s eerily quiet, and the only sound I hear is my heart beating in my throat. I can’t say that I’ve spent the night in an empty hotel before, and it’s a little more unsettling than I thought it would be. I can understand why Kinley was scared last night, as the same feeling of dread is clawing its way up my spine. At least it’s morning now, yet it’s surprisingly dark in the hotel.
I shrug my shoulders as I get to the stairwell and hesitate for a moment. I wonder whether Kinsley is awake yet and if I should go to her room to check on her. But then again, I don’t want to overstep any boundaries. Just because we called a truce last night doesn’t mean that we’re friends all of a sudden, right?
I linger at the foot of the stairs for another few seconds, deliberating in my mind whether or not I should go. Deciding against it, I shake my head and step away from the stairwell and towards the lobby.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I quickly retrieve it.
“Anson Mallard,” I answer my phone without looking at the screen, heading down the hallway to the lobby.
“Anson, it’s Frank Tobyn.”
Great, a call from my boss. Hopefully, he’ll be able to give me some clarity about the situation and whether I can leave the Lockwood Resort as soon as possible. Another inspection can be arranged since I just want to go home.
“Hey, Frank,” I say as I walk into the lobby.
