Page 22 of Just One: Box Set

Chapter Four

A fter a much-needed rest, Damon made his way down to the hotel lobby, unsure of how to approach the situation.

He had no clue if the front desk would give him the information he needed, but he was determined to find out.

As he waited for the woman behind the counter to finish with a couple checking in, he scanned the grand space.

The place was stunning—no wonder Austin had chosen it for a honeymoon.

The thought of that man-made Damon’s stomach twist with disgust. How could someone lie like that to a woman?

If you’re unhappy, end the relationship.

There was no excuse for Austin’s betrayal.

When the woman at the counter was free, Damon stepped up with a polite smile.

“Ciao… Mi chiedevo se potessi dirmi se la donna che sto incontrando qui ha già fatto il check-in. Il suo nome è Allison Hunt.” Hi …

I was wondering if you could tell me if the woman I'm meeting here has checked in yet.

Her name is Allison Hunt. He hoped speaking in her native language might help his case.

Without hesitation, she typed on her keyboard and smiled. “Sì, ha fatto il check-in questa mattina.” Yes, she checked in this morning.

“Non supponiamo che tu possa dirmi quale stanza?” he asked, his fingers tapping nervously on the counter. Don't suppose you can tell me what room?

“Non temere. Non puoi chiamarla?” she replied with a slight frown. Afraid not. Can’t you call her?

Damon swallowed his frustration and forced a grin.

“Fortunatamente, il suo telefono va alla segreteria telefonica.” Unfortunately, her phone keeps going to voicemail .

A lie that left a tight knot in his chest, but he was desperate.

“Grazie però. Aspetterò al bar. Forse passerà quando avrà fame.” Thank you though.

I’ll just wait at the bar. Maybe she’ll come down when she gets hungry.

With that, he turned toward the bar, settling onto a stool that gave him a perfect view of the front entrance. He wasn’t going anywhere until he saw her. He ordered food, trying to distract himself, but his eyes kept flicking toward the lobby. It felt like torture, waiting like this.

His focus was momentarily interrupted when a woman sat beside him. “Are you waiting for your wife?” she asked, her British accent cutting through his thoughts.

Damon didn’t bother looking at her. “No,” he muttered, taking a long swig of his beer.

She chuckled softly. “You haven’t taken your eyes off the entrance. Who is she if she’s not your wife?”

Though he didn’t want to engage, he also didn’t want to be rude. “Someone special,” he replied tersely.

“I see.” She ordered herself a drink and studied him, clearly not deterred by his short responses. “Lauren Murphy,” she introduced herself, extending her hand.

Damon glanced at her hand but didn’t take it. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. “Look,” he said, setting his glass down, “I’m not interested in chatting. I’m here for one woman. While I appreciate the gesture, this isn’t happening.”

To his surprise, she laughed. “Oh, no, darling, I’m not hitting on you. My husband would be quite amused by the assumption. He tells me all the time my friendliness comes off wrong.” She leaned back, her smile softening. “I’m probably old enough to be your mother.”

Heat flooded Damon’s face. “Shit. I’m sorry, I just assumed…” He rubbed his hands over his jeans, suddenly feeling foolish. “Let’s start over. Damon Cross.”

Lauren’s smile didn’t falter as she shook his hand. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, why don’t you tell me what’s really going on? You look like a man on a mission.”

Damon hesitated, but something about Lauren put him at ease. So, he told her about Allison—how they met, how her ex-fiancé had crushed her, and how their night in Vegas had changed him. He left out the more intimate details, but it felt good to share the story.

“Wow,” Lauren said, her eyes wide with understanding. “She must’ve really knocked your socks off for you to follow her all the way to Italy.”

“It’s crazy,” Damon admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But I feel like she’s the one. I just have to convince her of that.” His heart clenched as he spoke, the vulnerability of his situation hitting him harder than he expected.

Lauren opened her mouth to respond, but her gaze shifted to the lobby, and Damon followed her line of sight.

His heart dropped into his stomach. There was Allison, walking through the entrance…

with a man. The guy had his arm slung around her shoulders in a way that felt too familiar, too possessive.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Lauren asked quietly.

Damon tore his eyes away from the scene, his jaw tight. “Yeah. I guess I was the only one who felt a connection.”

“Don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions,” Lauren said, standing and placing a hand on his arm. “You don’t know the full story. If I were you, I’d go confront her. You need to know where she’s staying anyway.”

Damon wanted to argue, but she was right. He couldn’t just walk away without knowing the truth. “You’re right. I’ll go see her.”

Lauren smiled warmly. “Good luck, Damon. And remember, all it takes is one chance.”

As Lauren disappeared into the crowd, Damon stalked across the lobby, heading for the elevators. He spotted Allison just as she was stepping in with the man. His body tensed, jealousy flaring as he watched them. But then he heard her voice.

“Thanks again, Lorenzo. Tonight was exactly what I needed.”

Lorenzo? The man with her wasn’t a lover—it was Lorenzo. Damon exhaled slowly, relief flooding his system, though the jealousy still pulsed in his veins. He waited, counting to ten as the elevator doors slid shut. Just as he stepped forward, Lorenzo appeared from the shadows.

“You can come out from hiding now,” Lorenzo said in a smooth Italian accent, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Damon blinked, startled. “What?”

“I saw you lurking. You’re him, aren’t you?” Lorenzo’s grin widened as he studied Damon’s tense form.

“Him who?” Damon growled, stepping closer, fists clenched at his sides.

“The man who has Alli all tied up in knots. I assume you’re her Vegas fling?” Lorenzo’s words hung in the air as Damon’s mind raced. “Relax, I’m not a threat. My husband’s waiting for me, so I’ll be brief. I assume you heard her room number—2267.”

Damon nodded stiffly. “How do you know about Vegas?”

“Because she didn’t stop talking about it at dinner.” Lorenzo’s smirk softened. “She likes you, Damon. She’s just scared. Don’t let her run from you again.”

With that, Lorenzo turned on his heel and disappeared into the night, leaving Damon standing there, heart racing. He made his way to the elevator, his mind swirling with anticipation.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity, but when the doors finally slid open on her floor, Damon’s determination solidified. He strode toward her room, every step carrying the weight of his hopes. The brass numbers on the door gleamed ominously—2267.

His heart pounded as he raised his hand to knock. The sound of footsteps approached from the other side, and when the door swung open, there she was. Stunning, even more so than he remembered.

"Lorenzo, did you forg—" The words froze on her lips as her eyes locked on his. "Damon?" Her voice wavered with disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Damon stepped forward, his hand gently cupping her cheek. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, and the connection between them crackled like electricity. “I’m here for you, Allison,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.