Addicted z.m

Chapter 22

Spencer's POV

"Zayn-"

"Don't say it," he stopped me as I stood starstruck in the glamourous lobby. "At least, not until you see the room."

This hotel looked way too expensive. The large chandelier was the first thing I noticed. The couches in the lounging area were so pristine, I stayed by Zayn's side when he told me to go take a seat.

I gripped onto his hand tight as he stood talking to the manager at the front desk to get keys to our reserved room. I felt the judging eyes and intimidating stares of foreign visitors.

"Enjoy your stay," the manager smiled with a thick Spanish accent. Zayn nodded at him then pulled me towards the elevator that was very spacious. He punched the button and I was thankful we were alone.

"Z-"

"Not yet," he interrupted.

We stood in silence for seconds longer before the doors opened. He still held my hand and led me down the hall. I was so engrosed in the elegance of all the decorations, I nearly tripped over my feet when we turned a corner. After turning a second corner, we stopped in front of a door. He swiped the card that played the role of our room key and opened the door, stepping inside and laying our bags on the couch.

I took a hesitant step inside and gasped. Two couches sat at the front of the room in front of a coffee table with a glass sheet in the middle. A smaller chandelier, identical to the one in the lobby, hung over a small table and two chairs on the left side of the suite. I turned my head and watched Zayn walk through a huge arch that opened up into the bedroom. A king sized bed sat there in a red-patterned duvet, untouched, not a bump in the sheets to be seen.

"Zayn-" I breathed out. I closed the door behind me and he motioned me to him. I walked into the bedroom, following his request.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I...I don't know what to say. This is...a lot. How did you afford all this?"

He pulled my hand, bringing my body to his. "Money is not an object when it comes to you."

"Zayn-"

"If you think this is a lot, you're not going to like our suite in Paris." He continued.

"Zayn!"

"What?" he laughed.

"I don't want you spending bucket loads of money on me," I whined.

He cradled my face in his hands and kissed my head. "But I want to."

I sighed. "We'll discuss this later," I declared.

"There's nothing to discuss."

I rolled my eyes and he smiled. "Go to bed," I playfully nudged him.

"It's like five o'clock in the morning," he chuckled.

"A few more hours of sleep won't kill you."

He breathed an exasperated sigh and pulled off his shirt. He pulled me close to him, placing a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. After pulling away, he rested his head against mine and bit his lip.

I traced the skull on his chest during our momentary silence then smiled up at him. "I love you," I whispered.

He didn't say anything, but for a split second, an unknown emotion flashed across his face before he gave me another quick kiss. He, then, pulled away completely and stepped behind me, pulling something out of his bag. "You can go wash up if you'd like." he offered.

I nodded, pulling the shirt out of his hand and walking into the bathroom. It had two sinks planted in a long granite counter top underneath a mirror that took up almost the rest of the wall. The large shower had a half-transparent glass wall and door. Everything was so clean and expensive, I was scared to even use the toilet.