CHAPTER 193: SUMMONED BY ELIZABETH

Aeri stood a few steps behind me, her arms crossed, her tight white t-shirt and black mini skirt hugging her curves, her black shirt slightly rumpled, her eyes fixed on my back.

I stood at the reception desk, my white inner t-shirt, black shirt, and black pants feeling heavy, my hands in my pockets as I handed over my debit card, the weight of our earlier argument still pressing on my chest, her words—"we can’t"—echoing in my mind.

"Thank you for your stay, sir." the receptionist said, her voice polite and warm, sliding my debit card back across the counter with a practiced smile. She handed me a receipt, her eyes flicking briefly to Aeri, who stood silent, her gaze distant, her lips pressed into a thin line.

I nodded, pocketing the card and receipt, my jaw tight, my hair falling over my eyes as I turned away from the desk.

I walked past Aeri without a word, my hands stuffed deeper into my pockets, my footsteps muffled on the plush lobby carpet. I could feel her eyes on my back, heavy with sadness, but I didn’t turn, the hurt between us a raw, unspoken wound.

She slowly turned, her boots clicking softly as she followed, keeping her distance, the space between us stretching like the cold morning air.

We stepped out into the snowy street, the chill biting at my face, a thin layer of fresh snow crunching under my shoes. I walked ahead, my hands still in my pockets, my breath visible in the crisp air, my heart heavy with the silence between us. Aeri trailed about ten steps behind, her footsteps lighter, hesitant, her black mini skirt swishing faintly, her ponytail swaying with each step. The city was quiet, the snow muffling the usual hum of traffic, the tall buildings around us dusted white, their windows reflecting the pale winter sky. I kept my eyes forward, the sting of her rejection burning, unsure if I could face her without breaking again.

"Ez—" Aeri’s voice started, soft and tentative, calling my name, but she stopped abruptly, her words cut off as I froze in place, my attention caught by a sleek black car pulling up to the curb in front of me, its tinted windows gleaming under the morning light.

The engine purred softly, and the door swung open with a smooth click, a man stepping out, his black suit crisp, his black sunglasses shielding his eyes, his posture rigid and professional.

"Mr. Ezra?" he asked, his voice low and direct, standing in front of me, his gloved hands clasped, his face unreadable behind the dark lenses.

I blinked, my hands sliding out of my pockets, my brows knitting together in confusion, my heart picking up pace.

"Yes, that’s me," I said, my voice cautious, glancing at the car, then back at him. "Who... are you?"

The man didn’t flinch, his tone steady, almost mechanical.

"The First Lady of the country, Miss Elizabeth, wants to see you," he said, his words landing like a shockwave, my eyes widening in surprise.

Memories flooded back, unbidden and vivid—three days ago, the dim, sultry haze of Heaven’s Feel, the exclusive brothel’s red room, its velvet curtains and low lighting. Miss Elizabeth, the First Lady, her commanding presence, her moans echoing as her naked body moved against mine, her piercing eyes and confident stare as she dominated me, her hands firm, her voice low and teasing.

At the end, she’d taken my number, her fingers brushing mine as she tucked the slip of paper into her purse. I’d thrown it away later, thinking I’d never need it, assuming it was a fleeting moment, a wild night that would stay buried. But now, here she was, reaching out, finding me on her own terms.

"What’s going on?" Aeri’s voice broke through my thoughts, curious and edged with concern, her boots crunching the snow as she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she looked from me to the man in the suit, then to the car.

"Alright, I’ll be there," I said to the man, my voice low and flat, my eyes flicking to the car’s open door, the plush leather interior waiting.

Jonathan hadn’t called today, so my schedule was clear, but the thought of going home now, facing the emptiness of my apartment after Aeri’s words, was unbearable.

I sighed internally, my chest tight, the hurt and confusion swirling, my anger simmering beneath the surface.

The man nodded, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses, stepping aside to gesture toward the car.

"This way, Mr. Ezra," he said, his tone calm and professional, holding the door open, the engine humming softly.

Aeri’s voice broke through, soft but edged with concern, her boots crunching the snow as she stepped closer.

"What happened? You going somewhere?" she asked, her eyes searching my back, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

I didn’t turn, my jaw tight, my hands clenching in my pockets.

"Go home on your own," I said, my voice cold, the words sharp as I fought to keep my emotions in check.

"I have some work to do." Without looking at her, I stepped into the car, sliding onto the cool leather seat, and pulled the door shut with a firm click, the sound final, like a wall between us.

The car moved swiftly, pulling away from the curb with a smooth hum, the snowy streets blurring past the tinted window.

I glanced out, my reflection faint in the glass, my hair falling over my eyes, my face tense. Inside, my mind was a mess, dwelling on Aeri’s words, the way she’d said she was only letting me "feel good," as if our nights together, our moments of passion, were just pity. I’d thought she was starting to accept me, to feel what I felt, but now it all seemed like a lie, a cruel trick my heart had played on itself.

I exhaled, my breath shaky, my fingers tapping restlessly on my knee.

"What am I supposed to do?" I muttered to myself, my voice barely audible over the car’s soft hum, the question heavy with doubt and hurt.

Outside, Aeri stood frozen on the sidewalk, her hand pressed to her chest, her eyes fixed on the spot where the car had been, now just a trail of tire tracks in the snow. The morning air was cold, the city quiet, the snow falling gently around her, dusting her black shirt and mini skirt.

She tilted her head back, staring up at the pale winter sky, her breath visible in a deep, shaky exhale, her hairs swaying slightly.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked herself, her voice a whisper, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, the weight of our argument settling over her like the snow.

The silence around her felt heavy, loneliness creeping in, her hand tightening against her chest as she stood alone, the hotel’s grand facade looming behind her.