CHAPTER 40: GUILTY PLEASURES

The tiny sound from the bathroom is barely louder than a breath, but in the silence of the room, it becomes a thunderclap.

Merida’s head snaps toward the door instantly.

Her eyes narrow.

Her brows draw together.

"What’s that?"

Lucien freezes. His spine stiffens, and for a split second he forgets how to breathe. His mouth opens, nothing comes out. His pulse hammers in his throat. shit Merida doesn’t have to go to the bathroom or it will be over

"Rats," he blurts finally, voice embarrassingly high. He forces out a shaky laugh. "Yep. Rats. Saw one last night when showering ,Big ones. But don’t worry, I’ve got it all covered."

Merida keeps staring. Too long. Too sharp.

The kind of stare that always made Lucien feel ten years old again, shrinking under the weight of her scrutiny. She’s not cruel, not outwardly, but she’s terrifying in her quiet logic, the way she pieces things together with almost mechanical precision.

And right now, her brain is clearly connecting dots he desperately needs her to ignore. Please dont ask too much and ignore Lucien desperately thought

After what feels like a century, she exhales and turns slightly.

"Then inform the manager about it," she says, still suspicious.

Lucien nods too fast. "Yes. Of course."

He stands still until she fully enters the room.

He’s painfully aware of every detail the messed-up sheets that he tried to fix but still doesn’t look that clean , the faint smell of Hunter’s cologne clinging to the air, his own shirt that’s poorly tucked, his messy hair that he didn’t have time to fix.

He looks... guilty.

And Merida is the kind of woman who notices guilt like a bloodhound, and right now , he hopes she doesn’t notice anything like he did

She walks further inside, adjusting the pearl bracelet on her wrist. "Now... about yesterday." Her tone shifts from mild suspicion to calm concern. "like i was saying , Tracy and Hunter both went missing last night. No one saw where they went. I couldn’t trace them either; I was too busy with the guests."

Lucien nods mechanically, but his stomach twists.

He’s not even listening, he’s scanning the room desperately.

The table.

The floor.

The sheets.

Anything Hunter might have left behind.

Then he sees it.

Hunter’s watch.

Right by his foot, gleaming under the morning light like a cursed spotlight. Not hidden. Not subtle. Just lying there, screaming the truth.

His blood turns ice-cold.

If Merida sees that watch, she will put everything together in seconds. She’s not stupid. She’s not blind. She knows her son’s possessions like they’re an extension of him. He need to hide it before Merida notices

Lucien tries to keep his face neutral as he listens to Merida ramble about Tracy’s sudden disappearance, about how "unlike her" it is, about how Hunter should’ve at least sent a message.

He bends his knee subtly.

He shifts his foot.

He nudges the watch.

Merida turns toward him at that exact moment, and he panics, so he kicks it under the bed in one swift motion.

The watch disappears just as Merida finishes turning around.

Lucien stands frozen, forcing a soft smile.

"Uh-huh."

Merida eyes him again. "You’re acting strange."

He shrugs stiffly. "Just... tired."

She squints. "Mm-hm." Then her tone softens. "Anyway. Clocking time is 12 AM today, so you can rest or do whatever you need. I already called for room service, your breakfast will arrive soon."

"Thank you," Lucien says, breathless.

Merida finally heads for the door, not fully convinced but not fighting it.

The second it closes behind her, Lucien slumps against it as his knees nearly buckle.

He doesn’t breathe properly until her footsteps fade down the hall, but his attention went back to Hunter

Then he bolts for the bathroom.

He yanks the door open, and Hunter is leaning against the counter, arms crossed, wearing absolutely no remorse whatsoever.

His smirk is bright, sharp, dangerous.

"A rat?" he drawls. "More like a big, ridiculously handsome one."

Lucien glares. "You’re lucky killing is illegal."

Hunter’s laugh bursts out, real, warm, unguarded.

Lucien’s chest twists painfully.

Hunter almost never laughs. Hearing it is like witnessing something forbidden, something meant for no one else.

Hunter steps closer, lowering himself to Lucien’s height, eyes soft but teasing.

"I’m grateful it’s illegal, mi chiquitín."

He reaches out and ruffles Lucien’s already messy hair, and Lucien nearly melts out of sheer embarrassment and something dangerously close to affection.

"Make sure you rest," Hunter says gently. "And eat."

"You’re going?" Lucien asks without thinking, and regrets it instantly.

Hunter’s smirk widens. "Miss me already?"

"Don’t twist my words," Lucien mutters, looking away.

Hunter places a dramatic hand over his heart.

"Ouch. Deep wound." Then he straightens himself. "I have to go. Being the future CEO means no free time."

He walks toward the door, the morning sun catching on his jawline, turning him into something he shouldn’t be, something Lucien absolutely should not want.

Hunter pauses at the doorway, looks back, and his voice drops.

"Don’t worry. I’ll be there whenever you need me."

Then he leaves.

Lucien stands alone for a beat. Then another. Then another.

The room feels too quiet. Too empty. Too distant from the heat that filled it moments ago.

He slowly walks back to the bed and lets himself fall face-first onto the mattress. The sheets shift around him, still warm from where Hunter slept. He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.

His heart thumps uncomfortably, loud enough he can hear it in his ears.

Then he shifts to the side Hunter had slept on, inhaling the faintest trace of his scent.

He presses a hand to his chest.

"Something’s wrong with me," he whispers.

But the truth curls inside him like a secret flame.

Something isn’t wrong.

Something has already begun

The reception lobby was barely awake, the overhead lights still humming to full brightness as Mikey strolled in with one hand in his pocket. His face looked like he hadn’t slept at all, annoyance carved into every line.

He laid his palm on the counter. "Morning. I need a spare key for Timothy Gray’s room. He’s not picking up."

The receptionist, used to hungover guests and early checkouts, didn’t ask much. She tapped her keyboard, printed a small keycard, and slid it across the counter.

Mikey took it with a grunt of thanks.

As he walked down the long, quiet hallway, he flipped open his phone again and reread the message Timothy had sent the night before:

"Bro I’m trapped in a room... try to come help me."

He scoffed under his breath.

"Trapped in a room my ass. Drama queen."

He stopped in front of Room 207, checked the number twice, then swiped the card. The green light blinked.

He pushed the door open.

"Yoh bro, you slept early last night—didn’t see your me—"

The words died on his tongue.

The room smelled like stale alcohol, perfume, and... something else, pheromones , alpha and one of an omega. The blankets were in a twisted heap on the floor. Two shapes were tangled on the bed, one familiar, one definitely not.

Mikey froze in the doorway, eyebrows lifting slowly.

Tracy was the first to stir. She blinked, confused, her hair a mess, until her gaze landed on Timothy, who lay shirtless beside her.

Her scream cut through the entire floor.

Timothy jolted upright, grabbing his head as if it were splitting in half. "Ah—shit—my head—"

The moment his eyes opened fully... confusion, then fear, then absolute horror washed over his face.

Mikey didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just stared, mouth slightly open.

Tracy scrambled backward so fast she nearly fell off the bed. "No... no no no no—" Her voice cracked. "I slept with a pervert!"

Her breathing turned frantic as flashes of foggy, half-remembered moments stabbed through her mind. She clutched her head, shaking it as if she could physically push the memories out.

Timothy’s own face twisted. "Wait—no—what? Tracy—what happened—"

But she wasn’t listening. She jumped off the bed, wincing hard as she touched her lower back.

"Oh my God..." she whispered, horrified. "What did I do?"

She snatched her dress from the floor, slipped it on with trembling hands, and glared at Timothy like he had committed a crime. Her eyes shone with humiliation and rage.

"This stays between us," she hissed, voice shaking. "You... you freaking pervert."

Then she shoved past Mikey and stormed out of the room, heels clicking violently down the hallway.

For a long moment, silence.

Mikey slowly closed the door.

He stared at Timothy, expression blank... then one eyebrow rose.

"So when you said revenge," Mikey said calmly, "I never knew you’d go as far as sleeping with Hunter’s soon-to-be fiancée."

Timothy groaned, falling back onto the bed, covering his face with both hands.

"Shut up."

Mikey folded his arms.

"Bro... what the hell happened?"

Timothy peeked through his fingers, eyes bloodshot and confused.

"I... I don’t even remember."

Mikey snorted. "That’s what they all say."