The Rival Hearts

Chapter 8

The private plane touched down at Hong Kong International Airport, and as the door opened, a wave of humid air enveloped us. Descending the stairs, we were met by two black cars waiting on the tarmac. The drivers stepped forward with practiced smiles, opening the doors in unison.

Keith and Taylor had no idea William and I were arriving together. I could already picture their faces when we walked into the hotel side by side.

I moved toward the car one of the drivers gestured to, ready to slip in casually and keep things understated. But before I could take a step, William's hand closed firmly around mine.

"We'll take this one," he said, his voice calm but authoritative as he nodded toward the second car.

The driver hesitated, his confusion fleeting as William's grip subtly urged me forward. With a confident ease, William led me toward the car. He reached the door before the driver, opening it himself and waiting as I slid into the cool leather seat.

The door shut softly behind me, and William rounded the car, slipping in beside me. His arm draped casually along the back of the seat, close enough that I could feel the quiet heat of his presence.

The car slowed as we approached the grand entrance of the Four Seasons. The driver exited quickly, opening the door. William stepped out first, turning to offer me his hand.

I took his hand, the light brush of his thumb against my skin sending a jolt through me as I stepped out of the car. The hotel towered above us, its glass facade shimmering in the light. Staff moved with practiced precision, one already retrieving our bags as we made our way toward the entrance.

The lobby was alive—guests checking in, staff moving around, and the soft clink of glasses drifting from the nearby lounge. I recognized a few familiar faces in the crowd, but thankfully, none of them noticed us.

William's hand rested lightly on my lower back as he guided me to the check-in desk. The gesture was subtle, easily mistaken for courtesy, but the firm press of his fingers carried an unmistakable possessiveness. It sent an unexpected thrill through me, one I couldn't entirely suppress.

"Checking in for Montgomery and Armstrong," he said.

The concierge, a young woman with a professional smile, quickly began processing the details. I stood beside him, my thoughts spinning. Being seen with him like this—publicly, openly—felt foreign. Too natural, too easy. And yet, the thrill of it was hard to ignore.

Once checked in, we headed to our rooms. My suite was huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering breathtaking views of Hong Kong's skyline. I lingered for a moment, taking in the city, but my thoughts kept circling back to William. The way his hand lingered at my back, the quiet but possessive claim in his touch—it stirred emotions I wasn't ready to confront.

I changed into something nice but understated, striking the perfect balance between looking good and not drawing too much attention. After all, this weekend was about Keith and Taylor, and the last thing I wanted was to overshadow their big moment.

Taylor's text came through, asking me to meet at the ballroom for the rehearsal. Smoothing my dress, I took a steadying breath and left the room.

In the hallway, I nearly stopped in my tracks. William was leaning casually against the wall, as if he'd been waiting for me, his posture relaxed but his eyes softened as they met mine.

He flashed me a breathtaking smile. "Ready?"

"That gave me goosebumps."

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "What did?"