The casual search

Killian stepped out of the bathroom, the air heavy with steam and the aftermath of a long, hot shower. Drops of water clung to his sculpted abs, glistening like liquid diamonds in the soft light of the morning. He surveyed the room, the scent of her lingering like a playful tease in the air. Yet, there was no trace of her, only the neatly packed luggage, an empty space that mirrored the abrupt departure of a mischievous ghost.

"Vanished into thin air," he muttered to himself, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the room. He ran a hand through his damp hair, a cascade of droplets falling to the floor like the remnants of an elusive dream. His gaze lingered on the marks on his back, souvenirs from the night before – a testament to the passion that had ignited like a flame in the darkness.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips, caught between amusement and annoyance. "Well played, my dear. Well played indeed."

He reached for his phone, the screen illuminating with a mix of messages and missed calls. A chuckle escaped him as he read through the string of notifications. His best friend, Connor, was the first to chime in with his signature brand of sarcastic humor.

"Killian, my man! Did the earth move for you last night, or was it just another seismic event caused by your legendary charm?"

Killian rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "You have no idea, Connor."

Connor's response was swift. "Well, don't forget to thank me for teaching you the art of seduction. I expect royalties."

"Royalties? More like a lifetime supply of aspirin for the headaches you cause," Killian retorted. 

His phone buzzed again, this time with a call from his manager, Samantha. Killian answered with a casual, "What's the crisis this time, Sam?"

Samantha's voice crackled through the line, a blend of concern and business-like efficiency. "Killian, we have a situation. The press is buzzing about your mysterious overnight guest. Any comments?"

Killian chuckled, the irony not lost on him. "Ah, the media – always eager for a scandal. No need to fuel their imaginations."

Samantha sighed. "Casual encounter, got it. But you might want to keep a low profile for a while. The tabloids are having a field day with this one."

"Low profile? Not my style, Sam. I'll let the drama unfold and enjoy the chaos from a distance," Killian replied, the nonchalant attitude a shield against the storm of speculation.

The conversation with Samantha ended, and Killian found himself surrounded by the hushed whispers of hotel staff outside his door. He stepped into the corridor, his gaze narrowing at the curious glances and knowing smiles.

With a sigh and a swipe of his finger, Killian dialed his assistant, Richard. The phone rang for a moment before Richard's voice crackled through the receiver.

"The media is having a field day. You’re causing trouble."

Killian chuckled, the sound a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Richard, my friend, I need you to do some digging for me. I need to find out about the girl from last night."

There was a pause on the other end, and Richard's tone shifted from casual to professional. "Of course, Killian. I'll need some details. Name, maybe a contact number?"

Killian hesitated, the memory of the night suddenly clouded with a distinct lack of information. "Well, here's the thing. I don't know her name. Or her number. Or anything, really. It was a bit of a whirlwind, you know?"

There was a deep sigh on the other end, audible even through the phone. "Killian, you can't expect me to find someone with just a vague description and no name. This isn't a rom-com where I can magically locate people."

Killian chuckled, the irony not lost on him. "I know, Richard. I know. But she left so suddenly, and now the media is all over it. I need something – anything – to work with."

Richard grumbled a bit, but Killian could sense the wheels turning in his assistant's head. "Fine. Describe her. Anything distinctive?"

"Well, she's got this... I don't know, an air of mischief about her. Dark hair, stunning eyes – green, I think. And she left some marks on my back. Scratches, you know? Passionate ones."

There was a pause, presumably as Richard absorbed the quirky details. "Scratches? Alright, that narrows it down to half the population," he muttered sarcastically.

Killian chuckled. "Come on, Richard. I'm counting on your detective skills. If nothing else, find out if she enjoyed the sandwich she stole."

The assistant sighed again, the exasperation evident in his voice. "Sandwich? Really? Alright, I'll see what I can do. But no promises. This is like finding a needle in a haystack without knowing what the needle looks like."

"Richard, my man, you're a lifesaver. If you manage to find her, I'll owe you one," Killian said, already envisioning the dramatic headlines that would follow such a reunion.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll let you know if I come up with anything. Just don't expect miracles," Richard grumbled before ending the call.

"And also, this girl might be my fated mate."

There was a beat of silence on the line, and then Richard burst into laughter. "Fated mate? Seriously, Killian?” 

“What’s wrong with that? Do not laugh at me, Rick.”

“You’re betrothed, my prince.” Richard’s tone turned serious. “I don’t want to be the one who has to tell them and defend you. I’m tired, Killian.” 

“She’s dead, Ricky. She’s dead and gone. Am I suppose to marry a corpse just because my father decided that I should?”