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"Are you sure?" I ask. "Can I check? It was room 4223."

"Lady, I'm sure," he says. "I have men in that room working on the kitchen right now—no one is staying here. Now, I'm going to ask you to leave one more time, and then I'm going to have to call security—it's a safety hazard."

"All right, fine. I'm going."

Sighing, I turn and head back out to the stairwell, then down to my own room. After stepping inside, I move to the window, pull the blinds closed, and then kick off my shorts beforeclimbing back into bed. I pull the covers over my head, and feel it—the emptiness in my chest, the ache of longing and loneliness.

I picture myself as I was hours ago, leaning back against Luca's chest in the jacuzzi tub, laughing with him under the covers. The shirt, the heart—could I have made all of that up? But no…the room was under construction—I remember. The kitchen was missing its countertops and the walls had been stripped in the living room; there were tarps over the furniture and on the floors. I couldn't have known that.

I didn't do this to myself.

I try to remember what Declan said to me before I passed out—he said it was important that I didn't tell anyone I saw him, and that he wasn't going to leave me again.

But he's lied before. And he's gone now. What was the point?

I close my eyes, sinking back into the memory. A part of me wishes Fake Luca would show up right now and tell me I'm going to be okay.

I must have fallen asleep again because when I wake up, the clock on the bedside table says it's after four in the afternoon. I still feel a little sick, but not like I did this morning. After using the bathroom, I grab the room service menu from the bedside table and order some food. Then, I grab the television remote from the table, jumping when I notice Sebastian leaning against the closet door.

"Jesus! What the fuck are you doing?"

"Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

I shrug. "I haven't checked it. I drank too much last night. I've been sleeping. Is that why you're here? Because I didn't answer my phone?"

"You sure that's it?" he asks. "You didn't do anything bad, did you, Teagan?"

"I was on my best behavior," I tell him. "You said you'd give me space."

"You didn't seem like you wanted space," he says.

"Like I said, I got really drunk, and I got a little bit lonely—it's not like I can really talk to anyone else—but I'm fine now. You can go."

"I don't think so."

"Suit yourself. I have shit to do."

I walk to the minifridge and take out a water bottle, closely inspecting the cap to make sure it's sealed.

"Do you want to play monsters instead?" He runs a hand down my back and then over my hip. "The Order owns a club here under one of the hotels. Wait until you see the things they do there…the things people will come here to pay for will have you so wet, you'll—"

"No," I say, shrugging him off.

"Come on," he says. "You know you're curious."

"How long have you been sitting there watching me?"

"A couple of hours," he says. "What's your problem?"

"I'm sick and tired and hungry," I tell him. "You weren't supposed to be here. I didn't come here to play monsters; I came here to maybe have one last good memory. And so that maybe when I think of my sister, I can think of her the way I did before everything happened. Maybe she can think of me that way, too—after she thinks I'm dead."

His eyes darken. "You know, no one living has ever spoken to me the way you do," he says. "Do you have any idea how hard it is not to cut you into pieces? How many times I've had to stop myself? I think about sticking my knife in you almost as often as I think about sticking my dick in you."

"Do you want me to thank you for not killing me? Don't hold your breath, Bone Saw," I scoff. "There isn't much that scares me anymore."

His hand shoots out, grabbing me by the throat. "Don't. Call. Me. That."

There's something different in his eyes now—something I haven't seen before. I'm momentarily taken aback, thinking I must be misreading it.