Tattooed in Moonlight

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I shoved a macaron into my mouth angrily. "You can't just calm me down with sugar and stationary pep talks, Javierres. That's not fair."

But it was fair. And it was working.

I chewed, muttering around the cookie, "Manipulative dragon."

The phone buzzed again. Trending updates, probably. I didn't look.

Instead, I leaned back, the card still in my lap, and whispered, "Breathe."

It was infuriating.

It was comforting.

And it meant one thing, clear as the moonlight that had revealed his tattoo in the first place:

He wasn't going to let me ignore him.

By midnight, the macarons were gone. So was my patience.

I'd tried to distract myself with a movie, but every time the leading man delivered a line, my brain replaced it with Travis's voice.

Don't bother convincing yourself this was nothing.

I want you to stop pretending.

Breathe.

I threw a pillow across the room. "Unbelievable. He's haunting me. Like some kind of billionaire poltergeist with better suits."

Sleep was impossible. My thoughts wouldn't stop spinning.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do when the world got too loud: I moved.

I changed into leggings and a hoodie, tied my hair up, and slipped out of the suite barefoot. No entourage, no disguise. Just me, prowling through the quiet halls of the hotel until I found myself outside on the rooftop again.

The pool glimmered under the moonlight, perfectly still. The city stretched endlessly beyond it, all glitter and sharp edges.

I exhaled. Finally, silence.

I padded over to the railing and leaned on it, letting the wind cool my face. For a moment, it was just me and the skyline.

Then, of course, him.

A shadow peeled itself from the far side of the pool.

I groaned. "Of course you're here. Why wouldn't you be? Is this your lair? Do you sleep on the roof like Batman?"

Travis Javierres stepped into the light, calm, composed, as if he'd been expecting me.

He didn't answer my question. Of course not. He never did.

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "You really need a new hobby. Rooftop lurking is not sustainable."

Silence. That steady gaze.

I huffed. "Fine. Say it. Whatever cryptic one-liner you brought me up here for. Let's get it over with so I can go back to hating my life in peace."

Still nothing. Just that unreadable look.

The wind tugged at my hoodie. My pulse thundered louder than the city below.

Finally, he spoke.

"You're still here."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You could've left," he said evenly. "Your manager wants you gone. Your father's office wants you gone. But you're still here."

My throat tightened.

He wasn't wrong.

"I..." I tried to laugh, but it came out thin. "Well, for starters, my flight back to the Philippines is just in two days?"