A Fateful Escort

Dragging this man through the luxurious halls of the hotel felt like an ordeal. His dead weight pressed against my shoulder as we staggered into the elevator, and for the hundredth time, I cursed myself for even considering helping him.

You’re a fool, Haru. A complete fool.

His scent was faint—masked by the alcohol and whatever cologne he wore—but it still lingered too close for comfort. I didn’t think much of it, though. He was just another guest—one who’d had too much to drink and was probably celebrating a deal worth more money than I’d make in my entire lifetime. That was how it always went here.

I adjusted his arm around me again as the elevator doors closed. The silence inside made the soft hum of the machinery seem louder than usual. I leaned him against the mirrored wall and let out a deep breath, finally getting a small moment to collect myself.

I glanced down at him, annoyed but also faintly curious. In the brighter light of the elevator, I got a better look at his face.

His features were sharp and clean-cut, even relaxed as he was. His hair fell messily across his forehead, yet somehow, he still managed to look like he belonged in one of those magazines the hotel kept in the lobby. People like him had it so easy. Even passed out drunk, they looked like they were born to be admired.

“Ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.

I fished around in his coat pocket again, pulling out the key card I’d found earlier. Black and gold. My stomach churned when I saw it again.

An SVIP.

Of course, he had to be one of them.

I looked at the number on the back of the card—1105. The top floor. My hands tightened on the key card before I forced myself to calm down. This wasn’t unusual. The SVIP guests always got the best rooms, the best service, the best everything. I should’ve known just by looking at him.

“Whatever,” I said quietly, slipping the key card into my pocket again. “I’ll just get you to your room and leave.”

The elevator chimed softly as it began to ascend. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the rhythm calm me. As long as I didn’t think too hard about what I was doing—or who I was helping—I could get through this.

The man stirred slightly, and I tensed. His head rolled to the side, landing against my shoulder.

I froze.

“Hey,” I whispered, shifting slightly to ease him off me. “Stay on your side, will you?”

He didn’t respond, obviously, but the faint weight of his head against me left an uncomfortable prickle across my skin. I bit the inside of my cheek and looked at the floor numbers lighting up one by one.

Almost there.

The elevator slowed, and with another quiet chime, the doors slid open onto the top floor. The SVIP hallway stretched before me, dimly lit and far too quiet. Everything here screamed wealth—the thick carpet, the polished gold numbers on the doors, and even the faint scent of fresh flowers lingering in the air.

I stepped forward, practically dragging him along as his feet stumbled with every step. It felt like moving a statue.

“Come on,” I grumbled under my breath, shooting a quick glare at him. “You’re not making this easy.”

He didn’t answer—thankfully.

Room 1105 wasn’t far, but the short walk felt like an eternity. My arms and shoulders burned with the effort of keeping him upright. I gritted my teeth and focused on the door numbers as we passed them.

1101.

1102.

Almost there.

Finally, I stopped in front of 1105. I reached into my pocket with one hand, pulling out the key card. Balancing him with the other was no small task, and I had to prop him against the wall just to swipe the card.

The light turned green, and the door unlocked with a soft click.

“Finally,” I muttered.

I turned back to him, ready to drag him inside, but as I looked at him slumped against the wall, a strange prickle ran down my spine. Something about him—his presence, maybe—made me feel uneasy. I frowned, shaking my head quickly to clear the thought.

Don’t overthink it, Haru. Just get this over with.

“Alright, come on,” I said quietly, ducking under his arm again and pulling him toward the door. He was heavier than I remembered—my muscles were already screaming at me to stop—but I pushed through it. Once I got him onto the couch, I’d be done.

The suite was dark as I stepped inside, but I could see enough to know it was massive. The soft glow from the city outside filtered in through the tall windows, casting faint streaks of light across the polished floors and expensive furniture.

I let out a heavy breath as I guided him toward the living area.

“You better appreciate this,” I muttered, easing him down onto the couch. My arms trembled from the effort, but I ignored the burning ache.

Once he was settled, I stepped back, brushing my hands against my pants as if to wipe away the contact. He lay there sprawled across the couch, one arm resting over his stomach and his chest rising and falling steadily.

I stared at him for a moment, feeling equal parts exhausted and annoyed.

“You’re lucky I’m the one who found you,” I said, crossing my arms. “Anyone else would’ve just left you there.”

He didn’t respond, of course.

I sighed heavily, glancing toward the door. My job here was done. I’d followed the hotel’s rules, and no one could say otherwise. Whatever happened after this wasn’t my problem.

Still, a strange tightness lingered in my chest as I turned to leave. I paused in the doorway, my hand resting on the knob. Something about this night—about him—felt… off.

Don’t think about it, I told myself. He’s just a guest.

I stayed near the man, my hand slowly falling away from the doorknob. I couldn’t seem to make myself leave. Every logical part of my brain screamed at me to turn around, to walk out of this suite and forget this entire evening. But something rooted me to the spot, something I couldn’t name.

The room was silent except for the faint sound of his breathing. It was steady, soft—almost calming in a way that made me even more uneasy. I looked down at him again, sprawled across the couch where I’d all but dropped him.

Now that I was close—too close, really—I could see the little details of his face, the things I’d missed earlier in my rush to haul him up here. A faint crease between his brows, even as he slept, like he was troubled by something. Dark lashes rested against his cheeks, unusually long for someone his age or stature. And his lips—soft, perfectly shaped—were slightly parted as he exhaled quietly.

What am I doing?

I blinked, suddenly aware of the heat rising in my cheeks, and looked away quickly. My pulse thudded uncomfortably loud in my ears, and I realized with growing horror that I felt… drawn to him.

Attracted.

The word burned through my mind, sending a cold chill down my spine. I hated how it sounded, how it felt. Attraction wasn’t something I allowed myself. Not anymore. Especially not toward a stranger.

Especially not toward a man.

I swallowed hard and clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself to steady my breathing. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t me.

“Snap out of it,” I muttered quietly to myself, glancing at the man again as though he’d hear me and wake up. He didn’t move.

I took a slow, careful step back. Distance. That was what I needed. The closer I stayed to him, the more my mind played tricks on me—stirring feelings I didn’t understand and didn’t want.

But even as I stepped back, my gaze betrayed me, drifting toward him again. He was undeniably handsome, yes, but it wasn’t just that. There was something about him—something intangible—that pulled at me, like a quiet whisper I couldn’t hear but somehow felt.

I frowned, shaking my head hard.

Why does it feel like this?

It didn’t make sense. I’d spent years burying my emotions, locking them up so tight that no one could get close—not even myself. And alphas? I hated them. Feared them, even. They represented everything I wanted to escape. I’d lived my whole life avoiding their arrogance, their overpowering presence, their ability to make omegas like me feel small and insignificant.

If I knew—if I knew—this man was one of them, I would never have brought him here.

But even now, as that thought echoed in my mind, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

There was no overpowering alpha scent lingering around him, just the faint trace of expensive cologne and the sharp tang of alcohol. It comforted me in some strange way—reassuring me that he was just another man. A stranger. Someone I’d never see again.

That’s right, I told myself. After tonight, I’ll forget him.

I stepped closer again—too close—crouching slightly as I checked his position. His coat had bunched up awkwardly beneath him, and I let out a reluctant sigh.

“Of course,” I muttered. “You couldn’t just sit still, could you?”

I reached out hesitantly, careful not to touch him more than I had to, and tugged the coat free. As I did, his head lolled slightly to the side, and I froze, my breath catching in my throat. For a moment, I thought he’d wake up, but he remained silent, still breathing softly.

From this angle, his face was even closer than before. My heart skipped, an unfamiliar flutter that made my stomach tighten.

Why does this keep happening?

I felt frustrated—at myself, at him, at this whole stupid situation. This wasn’t me. I didn’t react to people like this. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had made me pause, much less feel… whatever this was.

He’s just a guest, I told myself again. Just a guest.

But even as I said it, I knew I was lying. There was something different about him, something I couldn’t name or explain.

Suddenly, his lips parted slightly, and he let out a soft, quiet sigh—so faint I almost missed it. My chest tightened inexplicably, and I pulled back like I’d been burned, stumbling slightly as I stood up too fast.

“What is wrong with me?” I hissed under my breath, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

I turned away from him, facing the door once again. This time, I had to leave. Staying here any longer would only make this worse, and I didn’t even know what this was.

I grabbed my bag, forcing myself to take a deep breath as I steadied my shaking hands. My head felt foggy, my thoughts a tangled mess I couldn’t sort through. All I knew was that I needed to get out of here—now.

“You’re on your own after this,” I muttered quietly, casting one last glance toward him.

He didn’t hear me, of course. He remained still, his breathing slow and steady. The strange pull I felt toward him lingered like a heavy weight in my chest, but I ignored it. I pushed it away, shoved it deep into the parts of myself I never touched.

This man was just another guest. Someone I’d never see again.

And yet, as I finally stepped toward the door, my heart ached in a way I couldn’t explain.

It felt like leaving him was a mistake.

But why?