Free Hooked #3 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 3) by Claire Adams

the door and turned back
toward me. “You ready?”
    I supposed I was. I grabbed my suitcase and walked
toward him. We boarded the elevator. For the first time since we had arrived, I
didn’t look at the remarkable hotel like it was truly elegant. Instead, I saw
it for what it truly was. I saw the stains on the counter—the coffee spills. I
saw a maid fighting with another maid over by the fireplaces. I saw that a
smart-looking, professor-type man in the bar area was reading Orange is the New
Black instead of Proust. Everything felt false to me; nothing felt right. I
shivered.
    “You missing Chicago, Mister Thompson?” the valet
asked him as he walked toward the Porsche, the keys dangling.
    “ Gotta get back home,
Leon,” Drew answered, grinning that suave grin.
“Thanks for treating Miss Molly and I here well this weekend. We’ll be back
real soon.”
    “It was our pleasure, sir,” Leon answered. He watched
us as we sluggishly entered the car. At this point, I could feel the hangover
overtaking my body, my mind. I draped my limbs over the car seat armrests,
feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience. The man beside me; did I
really know him? Did I really know myself?
    “I think I’ll probably just drop you off at your
apartment and head over to my new place, just to check it out,” Drew was saying
to my left.
    I nodded, trying to force myself to stop caring
about him. “You should.”
    “I’m looking forward to decorating it. You should
come over sometime and help me imagine what it should look like. You know. I want
it to be really elegant, really personalized. To suit my
style.”
    “I see,” I murmured. And I couldn’t help but become
excited, if only for a moment, about the prospect of helping him arrange his
new world, his new life in a grand, Chicago apartment—a place that I could
never afford. It was like a fantasy, imagining us together in that illustrious
place with the whole of the city rushing around us.
    Of course, the past two days had been similar to
this fantasy; just us, conquering the world. I had made ten thousand dollars at
the black jack table, if only to hand it back to him, recognizing my true fate.
I had made love to him, as if I were a different sort of person—the type of
person who could fall in love. And, beyond anything else, I had laughed. I had
seen wonders. If this wasn’t the gift for which I was searching in my
(probable) last days in Chicago—if the loan didn’t work out, if the studio
didn’t work out—then I could be happy. Maybe.

 
    I fell asleep on the car ride back to Chicago. I
woke up to the horns, the quakes of the city. I felt the power and the energy
of the people. Blinking awake, I noted that Drew looked so regal sitting beside
me, his sunglasses plastered to his eyes.
    “You’re awake!” he said excitedly. “I’m nearing your
apartment now. The city really came alive today. It’s so sunny. Probably the
last nice day before winter, you know?”
    I blinked wildly, trying to get a sense of the
surrounding world. I saw children rushing around a playground; I saw dog
walkers and runners. People sat outside drinking margaritas and pints. I
reminded myself that it was Sunday, that the rest of the world had carried on
with their usual days when I had escaped into that solace, the grand hotel, the
vibrant casino.
    Drew parked the car in front of the apartment
building, and no valet came rushing out. Real life awaited .
I clasped my hands together in front of my stomach, peering at him as he raced
to my side to let me out. I allowed my feeble legs to stand beside him on the
sidewalk; I watched as he removed the suitcase from the back of the car. He set
it next to my shoe and leaned down to kiss me, lightly, on the cheek. “I had a
great weekend with you. You’re—you’re spectacular,” he murmured.
    But I didn’t know how to take it. So I simply sent
him a thank you, a nod. I smiled serenely and then walked to the door of the
apartment