Chapter 314

Serena's POV

I turned away from them and began hastily gathering my belongings, shoving clothes and toiletries back into my suitcase without any care for organization. My movements were jerky, revealing the anger still simmering beneath my composed exterior.

Throughout this entire exchange, Mateo hadn't uttered a single word. He remained on the bed, pretending as if none of this concerned him, as if I didn't exist. His indifference was perhaps more infuriating than his earlier outburst.

After I'd stuffed everything into my luggage, Ethan rushed forward to take my bag. "Ms. Sinclair, please follow me," he said with an eager smile, clearly relieved I hadn't exploded at the staff.

Without a word, I followed Ethan to room 1211.

"Again, Ms. Sinclair, we sincerely apologize for the mix-up," the young man said, sliding the keycard into the door. "Please let us know if there's anything else we can do to make your stay more comfortable."

I forced a smile, though exhaustion was quickly overtaking my anger. "Thank you. I'm sure everything will be fine now."

Once alone, I dropped my carefully constructed facade. The door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against it, closing my eyes. The weight of my luggage felt like nothing compared to the heaviness in my chest. After setting down my bags, I collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the events of the past hour replayed in my mind.

"Don't think about it, Serena," I muttered to myself. "Don't think about him."

But Mateo García's face materialized in my thoughts anyway-his sharp eyes, that infuriating smirk when he realized I'd mistakenly entered his suite. How was I supposed to know that 1217 wasn't my room?

Sighing heavily, I forced myself to get up. A good night's sleep was what I needed.

I rummaged through my suitcase for my silk pajamas and changed quickly. Just as I was preparing for my nightly routine, I reached for my favorite sleeping mask and froze. The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water.

"Damn it!" I hissed, clenching my fists. My overnight face mask was still in Mateo's room, sitting on his bathroom counter where I'd placed it before realizing my mistake.

I paced the room, contemplating my options. I could go get it myself, but the thought of facing Mateo again made my stomach twist.

"It's just a face mask," I told myself, though it was my favorite brand and nearly impossible to find in Washington. "Not worth another interaction with that man."

Decision made, I climbed into bed and turned off the lights. The sheets were cool against my skin as I tried to settle in. Sleep usually evaded me, requiring either melatonin or sleeping pills, but tonight I felt genuinely exhausted. Perhaps one good thing had come from this disaster of an evening.

I was drifting into that sweet space between consciousness and dreams when three sharp knocks on my door jolted me awake. For a moment, I considered ignoring it, but the knocking came again, more insistent this time.

"You've got to be kidding me," I growled, throwing back the covers and storming to the door. Whoever was disturbing me at this hour better have a damn good reason.

I yanked the door open, ready to unleash my fury-only to freeze in place. Mateo García stood before me, his hair wet and dripping onto the shoulders of his loosely tied bathrobe. Droplets of water clung to his chest where the robe parted, revealing more skin than I cared to see. The scent of soap wafted toward me, and I hated that I noticed it.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest. "It's the middle of the night, and you're dressed like... like that! What do you want?"

His eyes narrowed. "Ms. Sinclair, I'm bringing your face mask out of the kindness of my heart, and this is how you thank me?"

I snorted. "Kindness? From you? That's rich. What's your angle here, Mr. García?"

The muscle in his jaw twitched, and I could tell I'd struck a nerve. He extended his hand, holding my black cosmetics pouch.

"Do you want it or not?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Because I'm perfectly happy to throw it away."

I snatched the bag from his hand, our fingers brushing for the briefest moment.

"Thank you," I said coldly before slamming the door in his face, nearly catching his nose in the process.

My heart raced as I leaned against the door, clutching the cosmetics pouch. Sleep was now the furthest thing from my mind. I returned to bed, tossing and turning, mentally cursing Mateo García with every fiber of my being.

"Of all the hotels in Washington," I groaned into my pillow, "why did he have to be in this one? It's like we're mortal enemies from a past life or something."

The night passed with minimal sleep, and by morning, I felt like I was floating-and not in a good way. My limbs seemed disconnected from my body, and my head felt strangely light. A shiver ran through me despite the hotel room's adequate heating.

"Great," I muttered, catching sight of my pale reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Just what I need. A cold."

I went through the motions of my morning routine on autopilot, too tired to put much effort into my appearance. My phone rang just as I was contemplating whether I had time for coffee.

"Hello?" My voice sounded raspier than usual.

"I'm downstairs at your hotel," came Kennedy's smooth voice. "Would you like me to come up, or would you prefer to meet me in the lobby?"

I glanced at my unfinished makeup and disheveled state. "Wait for me at the entrance. I'll be down in a minute."

"No rush, Serena. Take your time," he said before hanging up.