Breaking All the Rules

Five

HELL, I WAS not about to let myself be kissed publicly and by Zachary Stevens, for that matter... especially not in front of JESS'

I balled my fists, staring angrily into his liquid-green eyes. "Don't even think about it, you pompous, self-conceited..." bastard, I was forced to complete the rest of my name-calling in a sideway spin through the air. The outcome of which was my being slammed, not exactly noiselessly, against the door of my Dad's restaurant.

With a quick, fluid movement that rivalled the fastest flash of lightning, Zachary Stevens had kicked my knees out from beneath me, holding me at an ungainly position in which the strong, muscular arm that circled my waist in a most possessive manner became my sole source of balance.

It was a stupid idea to squirm against his grasp. His strongish hold only tightened.

"Please..." It took desperation to utter the most civil word in all of history. I mean, let's be practical here- the odds were not exactly in my favor. It was my reputation on the line...

"Stay still..." He snapped at me, his eyes had suddenly taken on this steely, glassy edge that tugged at every tendril of my sorry heart.

Help, somebody... was this guy stoned or something? How was I supposed to listen to any of those two words that had just escaped his liar-mouth?

I thought of screaming loudly for Dad, but the moment the cry swelled in my throat, his palm closed over my lips with a note of urgency as though he had read my mind.

My eyes widened in horror as I heard the first click of several cameras in the background.

I did not get the chance to wrap my head around the situation. I was rescued from the inconvenient posture by two rather grim-looking men in black suits and ushered into a waiting limousine.

***

The first rays of the early morning sun hit my eyes and that must have started it- the nagging throb that was beginning to trouble my temple. I do not usually get headaches first thing in the morning except of course it had something to do with getting dragged out of bed by Nicole.

I must have turned because I felt the warm softness beneath me give way slowly to accommodate the shift of my weight.

"Miss?"

There was a subjectiveness to that voice that piqued my curiosity. It forced me to rouse myself determinedly from my position.

"Yes?" I groaned, still finding it difficult to adjust my eyes to the sheer brightness of the room.

"Room service."

"Excuse me?" I yawned, rubbing my eyes.

"Just minutes ago, you ordered room service?"

Room service?

My eyes darted across the room with a feeling edging on panic. I slowly took in the oak paneling of the walls, the plush furniture, the exquisite wall-to-wall carpets, the hanging chandeliers, the massive French windows, slightly draped by matching curtains and the Elizabethan four-poster bed I was currently occupying.

I was in a hotel...a luxury hotel? 

Where the hell was Nicole? I mean, I had been talking to her, just minutes ago?

"Excuse me," I turned to the maid, "What hotel is this?"

"Hotel de Royale, Miss..."

The words were barely out of her mouth when I flung the covers aside and jumped off the bed.

"Do you know...?" I began, trailing off.  How did I end up here?