chapter 7

Samantha's POV

My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing I registered was the pounding in my head, like a jackhammer relentlessly drilling into my skull. I groaned, shifting slightly, and tried to sit upright. As the blanket slid off my body, a wave of cold air hit me-and then it hit me-I was completely naked.

Panic surged through me. My heart raced as I scanned the unfamiliar room. Soft light seeped through the heavy curtains, casting shadows on the luxurious furniture. Where the hell am I? My mind scrambled for answers, but everything was a blur-fragments of last night scattered like broken glass I couldn't piece together.

My pulse quickened as I tried to remember. I racked my brain, but it was as if someone had erased the reel of memories. Nothing but flashes: the clink of glasses, the taste of whiskey burning my throat, Jack Smith's face... *Jack*.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the bathroom door creaked open, and Jack emerged, towel draped casually over his neck, his eyes locking onto mine. The air in the room shifted, thickened. I instinctively yanked the blanket over my body, my cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and anger.

Jack's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with an almost predatory amusement as he approached me. Every step was slow, deliberate, and my heart pounded louder with each one.

"You're finally awake," he said, his voice a low rumble, smooth as velvet. He leaned in close, so close that the warmth of his breath caressed my skin, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. My body betrayed me in the worst way-my pulse quickened, and an undeniable pull of attraction made my skin tingle. I hated it. I hated him.

I leaned back, trying to maintain some space, but I couldn't deny the magnetic force between us. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle but loaded with tension. My breath caught in my throat. Was he going to kiss me?

But just as quickly as he had moved in, he pulled away. His hand reached for the nightstand, grabbing his car keys with casual indifference. He straightened up, the moment between us shattered like it had never even happened.

"You can stay as long as you need to figure your shit out," he said, his tone detached, as if he were talking about someone else entirely. "The room's charged to my account. No problem."

My heart sank. *Figure my shit out?* That's it? I felt something snap inside me-anger, frustration, humiliation all tangled together into a storm I couldn't contain.

I scrambled off the bed, clutching the blanket tightly around me, and followed him as he reached for his jacket. "Wait! I thought... I thought we were in this together now," I blurted, hating how desperate I sounded.

He paused, turning slowly to face me, his expression unreadable. His eyes, though, were cold, like I was some stranger making unreasonable demands. "And what gave you that impression, Samantha?" His voice was calm, almost too calm, and the way he said my name made my skin crawl.

"Our deal," I whispered, feeling the lump form in my throat. I didn't know how to explain what I was feeling, so I dropped the blanket slightly, exposing just enough of my bare thigh to make my point. "You know..." I let my voice trail off, hoping he understood.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, a low, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. He took a step closer, the heat of his body overwhelming me as his eyes darkened. "Don't be shameless, Samantha," he said, his voice low, cutting into me like a blade. "If something had happened between us, believe me, your legs would be jelly and you wouldn't be able to stand right now."

The cold, humiliating weight of his words settled over me, and I felt myself shrinking beneath his gaze. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door, leaving me standing there, exposed and confused.

Frustration boiled over, the anger finally spilling out. "I don't get this, Jack!" I shouted, my voice rising as I struggled to make sense of the situation. "Why did you bring me to this hotel after I got drunk? You get me naked, and for what? Is this some kind of game to you? Do you enjoy seeing me suffer? Make it make sense!" My voice echoed through the room, raw and desperate.

Jack stopped, his hand resting on the doorknob. Slowly, he turned to face me, his expression unreadable but his eyes glinting with something icy and distant. "Watch your tone, Samantha," he said softly, but there was a sharp edge in his words. It silenced me instantly.

I clenched my fists, biting down the urge to scream again, but the tension between us was suffocating.

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his jaw. "What was I supposed to do? Let you keep drinking yourself into oblivion?" His tone was calmer now, more measured, but the coldness was still there. "You went bottle after bottle, barely conscious by the time I brought you here. Was I supposed to leave you passed out in the street?"

I bit my lip, unwilling to admit that he might have a point.

"I took off your clothes so you could sleep better. That's all that happened, Samantha. Nothing more." His eyes flickered with annoyance. "You should be grateful."

*Grateful?* My blood boiled at his dismissiveness. I couldn't help the sarcasm that dripped from my words. "Oh, you're just a hero, aren't you? Thank you, Jack. My knight in shining armor." I rolled my eyes, the bitterness thick in my voice.

But he didn't flinch. His expression remained cold, unyielding, like I wasn't even worth the energy to respond. "You're welcome," he said, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth.

With that, he grabbed his phone, slid on his jacket, and without another glance in my direction, opened the door.

The silence in the room was deafening. The door clicked shut behind him, and I just stood there, staring at the space where he had been, my mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions I couldn't untangle.

The distant sound of the elevator dinging signaled his final departure, and that's when it hit me. The frustration, the confusion, the sheer helplessness of the situation bubbled up inside me until I couldn't hold it in any longer.

A scream tore from my throat, raw and loud, reverberating off the walls of the empty room. But it did nothing to ease the turmoil inside me. He was gone, and I was left alone with nothing but my questions, my anger, and my naked vulnerability.

Collapsing back onto the bed, I buried my face in my hands, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. How had I ended up here? How had everything spiraled so completely out of control?

And more importantly-what was I going to do next?