Fake Date, Real Fate

Content Warning!!!This Chapter contains themes of sexual harassment and assault. Reader discretion is advised.

****

I stepped into the room, letting the door fall shut behind me with a soft click. The suite was huge and bigger than our entire apartment back home. Everything smelled like money and a lemon-scented disinfectant. Typical.

I dropped my bag by the door and turned toward the king-sized bed... only to freeze.

There, neatly arranged on the bed like a display from a high-end fashion catalog were clothes. Lots of them. Dresses, suits, pantsuits, heels, flats, freaking silk blouses and all in styles I liked, colors I wore, sizes that screamed custom-picked.

I blinked at the pile, then slowly looked around the room as if someone would jump out and explain what the hell was happening.

I walked closer and touched a pair of cream-colored pants. Perfect length. I held up a soft black top. My exact size. I didn’t even have to check the tag ─ I knew. How on earth did he get my measurements and preferences.

There were three pairs of shoes at the foot of the bed. One black, one nude, and one that was probably worth more than my rent.

"What the..." I muttered. "Is this his idea of kindness? Or control?"

It was unsettling and weird. And if I wasn’t this damn exhausted I would probably have screamed.

Instead I peeled myself out of my wrinkled clothes and dragged myself into the ridiculously luxurious bathroom. I didn’t even check the water temperature before stepping in.