Page 17 of Room 710 (The Scarlet Hotel #15)

Ziggy

“Oh my goddess, I cannot believe we just did that!” I gasped, slapping a hand over my mouth to keep in my giggles. “My mom is going to see that! She’s going to think we had sex!”

“Are you okay with that? It’s not too late. You can walk straight back out and tell them to cut the footage. I promise I won’t be offended.” Devon really was too nice for words.

“No way! It’ll make for a great story later,” I said, skipping across his room to plonk myself on the edge of his bed.

Dinner had been more fun than I thought it would.

We’d talked and laughed, and the food was amazing.

I was sure most of it would be edited out to fit the show’s length, with plenty of time for commercials, but they would get all the highlights.

At the end, when Devon had leaned in to whisper in my ear, he’d asked if he could kiss me, just for show value.

Elijah had instructed him at the beginning to play into the drama wherever possible, and if this wasn’t a prime example of drama, I didn’t know what was.

I figured there was no harm in a chaste kiss if it helped boost ratings.

Especially when it was like kissing a friend—there was zero passion, not even a spark.

In fact, the primary emotion I’d felt was guilt.

It was the strangest thing, but I could’ve sworn Eli was glaring at me through the entire date.

Like I’d done something to make him mad, and the mere thought that he was angry with me made my insides squirm.

I would have to find some time tomorrow to corner him and ask if everything was okay—off screen, of course.

“So, what do we do while we wait?” I asked. “If I leave too soon, I might give you a bad reputation for being a fast lover.” I gave him a teasing grin.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he said, laughing. “Well, we could watch a movie.” Devon shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over the desk chair, then rounded the bed and lay down on top of the covers, propping himself up on the headboard with a couple pillows. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything but romance,” I said too quickly, kicking my shoes off and scooting up the bed to lie down beside him. “Strangely enough, I’ve had about enough of the genre, after living inside it for almost a month now.”

He smirked over at me as he brought up the hotel’s streaming app.

“Really? I don’t think I could ever get enough of love.

That bubbly, euphoric feeling around someone, unable to keep your hands to yourself, addicted to the very air they breathe.

It’s life’s greatest goal, after all, better than any amount of fame or money. ”

I looked at him skeptically. “But you’re single.”

“Yeah, but not for lack of trying. I’ve dated plenty, but all the love I thought I’ve felt was nothing more than fleeting lust, surrounded by too much hope. But I have a good feeling about Lonely Alpha .”

“Even though it’s not real?”

“Who says it can’t be real?” He sighed, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back to look at the ceiling with a dreamy expression.

“It’s my job to act like I’m in love, and I tell myself it’s great practice for when I’ll be faced with the real thing.

Think about it. I have a lifetime supply of swoon-worthy date ideas, know all the perfect gifts, know the exact right thing to say in any circumstances, because I’ve had a host of screenwriters as my wingmen. ”

He said it so flippantly, and it made me feel strangely upset.

I found myself frowning at him as he used the TV remote to load a drama about an Army vet and his retired bomb-sniffing dog.

“This is probably going to sound super rude, but… what part of that set-up makes it real? None of those ideas are yours.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, and an indent formed between his dark eyebrows as he turned onto his side to face me, propping himself up with one elbow.

“I just mean you can’t plan for love the way you would a scripted movie role.

It’s not about having the right lighting and memorizing your lines.

I would like to think that love would catch you off guard and no amount of planning can prepare you for it.

Falling for someone is about learning their likes and dislikes, what makes them laugh or cry.

Everyone is different, and all we can hope for is that we find someone whose version of love fits ours.

Personally, I dream of a man who can’t live without me, whose whole world revolves around me and who wants to stake his claim, fiercely and publicly.

My best friend, however, melts when his husband makes small, quiet gestures, like doing the dishes or getting up with the baby and letting him sleep in.

To them, that’s love.” I shrugged. “You love a whole person, not the role they play on paper or screen.”

Devon’s smile turned a bit goofy. “Spoken like a man in love. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“W-what? There’s no guy,” I spluttered, my cheeks burning. And while that was technically true, it felt like a little white lie. Because wasn’t there a guy? Someone who occupied my thoughts more than was healthy.

“Uh-huh, sure,” he said loftily, rolling to lie on his back again. “I totally believe you. And I definitely haven’t seen you staring hungrily after a certain director…”

I choked and sputtered, trying to find the words to dispute his accusation but coming up short.

I thought I’d been discreet in my lusting.

“We will not be discussing this,” I said instead, crossing my arms over my chest. “We are going to watch this movie—which I can already tell is going to make me cry—and we will order an unhealthy amount of room service and binge eat until I am forced to roll myself back to my room.” I might’ve just eaten, but movies required snacks.

I was already reaching for the menu card on the bedside table.

“Sure, order whatever you want, but maybe order some champagne and a bowl of whipped cream too to keep them guessing about what we’re up to in here.

Gotta play the game.” He laughed, but I was starting to understand what he meant about leaning into the fans’ expectations.

I’d watched the show countless times with my mom, and sure, I’d seen couples disappearing into a darkened bedroom and made assumptions, just like I knew viewers would assume about us.

I guess I’d never considered the possibility that reality TV was almost as much fiction as… well, fiction.

While we waited for my chicken fingers and fries to arrive, our conversation drifted naturally toward our other housemates. “If you were me, who would you pick?” he asked, genuinely curious about my opinion.

“You would absolutely do well to spend more time with Prairie. He’s really modest, so he’s not one to put himself out there, but he’s also confident and selfless.

Darnell acts all sassy and is even sassier in private, and while Alex is quiet and easy to overlook, he’s pretty awesome too.

Really genuine.” I thought about the other men in the house and couldn’t help but ask the question that had been gnawing at me.

“I’m sorry, not to knock your taste in men, but I just don’t get it.

Why is Rune still here? The guy is a dick. ”

Instead of taking offense, Devon threw his head back and laughed.

“Right? Such a dick! Don’t tell anyone, but Elijah asked me to keep him around for a while, for the rivalry he brings to the show.

” He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll have had enough of the drama by the time the finale rolls around. ”

I had no doubt he was right.

There was a knock on the door, and Devon jogged to the door to grab my food.

The staff at the door did his best to peek inside, but Devon blocked his view with his body.

With the food set on the bed between us, we laughed and ate and watched a movie that absolutely made me cry, so Devon put a comedy on next, about a bumbling klutz that was somehow mistaken as being an assassin.

At some point, I dozed off, and when I woke up, the movie had ended and Devon was breathing evenly in the bed beside me.

I rolled carefully off the bed and collected my shoes, then tiptoed toward the door in my socked feet.

As I eased open the door and tried to sneak out, Devon roused, looking around until he found me by the door.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whispered.

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Besides, all the dishes are still in the bed. I would’ve just rolled over into the ketchup and made a huge mess. Here, let me walk you to your room.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, waving him back. “Go back to sleep.”

“Out of the question,” he insisted, walking around the bed, rubbing the side of his face.

“What kind of alpha would I be if I didn’t take you home?

” His eyes were still unfocused, but there was no dissuading him.

He was chivalry personified, and for a brief moment, I wondered what it would be like to date someone like him.

It would be so easy, like dating my best friend.

Almost immediately, though, I rejected the idea. I wasn’t looking for someone to make me comfortable. I didn’t want easy . I wanted to feel owned .

After propping his room door open to make sure he wouldn’t get locked out, we padded down the hall, side by side but with plenty of space between us.

There was no mistaking that we were friends and nothing more.

My gaze flitted over to where the camera was sitting on a tripod, filming us even now.

Would they show viewers? Would the fans remark on the change in our body language?

“Thank you for tonight,” I said earnestly. “I had a good time.”

“Me too. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

“Maybe.”

Devon leaned down to kiss my cheek then turned and walked back to his room.

I fit my key in the lock and eased the door open.

I looked back once and waved at Devon as he headed back to bed, the door closing behind him.

My room was dark and quiet, and I assumed Alex had long been asleep, but when I went to slip inside, I heard something.

A thump, a muffled growl. They weren’t coming from inside my room, though.

They were coming from… next door. From Eli’s room.