Page 35 of Strange Seduction (Strange #2)

Are You So Strong?

Day Ten.

The thing about having a public argument with your girlfriend on the grand staircase of your company’s biggest investor event?

Everyone sees it. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone suddenly becomes a damn relationship expert.

Still, walking into the office the next day didn’t bring me embarrassment—it brought me emptiness.

I missed her.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, but I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing her face. That look in her eyes right before she walked away—that heartbreak. She made such a beautiful face when she cried, and I regret seeing it.

I’d replayed it a hundred times and still didn’t know how to fix it.

The office was unusually quiet as I stepped in. People were here, sure, but the energy was off. It was as if they were all watching me without actually watching me, probably wondering if Carmen had packed up and flown back to New York. If I’d slept in the penthouse alone.

I had. And that put me in a miserable ass mood.

Work blurred. Emails. Client briefs. Team check-ins. Nothing stuck. Nothing mattered.

Annoyingly, my mother decided that this was the perfect time to try calling me again. I was tempted to turn my phone off, but I kept it on in case Carmen answered my texts or needed me.

It seemed to be pointless because there was just radio silence.

At around ten, I picked up the phone and dialed the hotel.

“Thank you for calling St. Adrienne,” the receptionist answered. “This is Margaret speaking.”

“Hi, Margaret, this is Theodore Clayton. Penthouse suite. Security code 768.”

I heard the click of keys. A pause.

“Yes, Mr. Clayton. How can I assist you?”

“I booked an additional room last night for my wife. Can you confirm the room number?”

“Yes, sir. That would be Room 308.”

“Is it nice?”

“Very. Gorgeous view, high floor. Corner suite.”

“Good. Has Mrs. Clayton come down to breakfast yet?”

“No, sir.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Can you please have breakfast sent up to her? And add flowers—peonies—dark chocolate-covered strawberries, and a bottle of champagne. The one I always send up.”

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

“An in-room massage. Offer her the full menu with the delivery. Whatever she wants, charge it to my card.”

“Consider it done, Mr. Clayton.”

“Thank you, Margaret. I’ll call back later for an update.”

“Of course. Have a great day.”

I hung up and stared at the screen on my desk, completely blank. Nothing in my life had ever made me feel more helpless than this. Carmen was angry—rightfully so—but all I wanted was the chance to explain.

The truth wasn’t easy. It never is. But I hadn’t cheated. I never would cheat on Carmen. I hadn’t lied to be malicious; I was trying to protect her feelings. It never crossed my mind that she would find out about that night after everything I did to keep it covered up.

It made me wonder how she found out, but that wasn’t my primary concern. Not when she was hurting like this.

We were doing so well. We had finally gotten on the same page and were building our relationship back to where it needed to be.

And this just had to happen.

Carter came in just before noon, dropping off the morning briefs and a folder of updates from the investment ball last night. I kept my office dark as I worked to keep my mind focused on my tasks. He paused halfway to the door, like he was trying to find the right tone.

“Hey, Tee? You… okay? With everything?”

“If by ‘everything’ you mean my very public argument on the ballroom stairs, then no, Carter. I am not okay.”

He nodded, like he respected the honesty. “Well… if it makes you feel any better, most of the investors had already left by the time things escalated. It was mostly just the staff that heard.”

I closed my eyes to calm myself before I opened them again.

“Yeah. That helps. Thanks.”

He hesitated, and I could see something sitting heavy behind his eyes. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to say it.

“Carter, as you can imagine, my mood is not the best at the moment, so if you have something to say, just say it,” I commanded.

“Look. I don’t want to get involved in your and Vincent’s… childish and extremely unprofessional feud, but—”

“But?”

He sighed. “He crossed a line. I thought you should know.”

I leaned back in my chair, jaw tightening. “What did he do?”

“He told her. And he told her to hurt you.”

I sat in silence, fists clenched on the armrest.

“To hurt me?”

Carter nodded, and my eyebrows drew together.

“Why the fuck is he—”

“Look, I don’t know what his issue with you is,” he cut me off. “But he’s been bitching and moaning about how you handle things around the office ever since Carmen got here.”

That honestly surprised me. I knew we didn’t see eye to eye when it came to Carmen, but now he’s making issues at work?

“And you’re only now telling me?”

Carter shrugged, “I thought he was just being salty about all the new projects we were taking on because he is the one who manages all the new clients, but now it’s become abundantly clear, he just doesn’t like you.”

“Hm,” the feeling was fucking mutual. “Send him in.”

“Can’t. He’s out for the day.”

I scoffed. The coward probably called in after pulling what he did last night.

“Well, with any luck. I’ll be able to fire his ass for insubordination or something soon. I’m sick of this bullshit.”

Carter looked at me like I had just spoken the gospel. “You and me both.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” I said, voice low.

He nodded and walked out.

I didn’t move after Carter left.

Vince, you motherfucker.

He told her because he wants her. I bet that was the only reason, and it made my blood boil.

I ran a hand down my face, trying to temper the heat rising in my chest. Of course, Vincent was the one who told her.

Of course, he waited until I wasn’t there, until Carmen was drunk and alone.

And of course— of course —he probably wrapped it up as if he was doing the right thing.

There were rules in business. And even stricter rules in war. You didn’t attack someone’s home. You didn’t touch the people they loved.

I slammed my palm down on the desk. Hard.

The few people lingering outside my office looked in, startled. I didn’t care.

Let them look. Let them speculate. They already were.

I’d handed them all a front-row seat to my humiliation.

And the worst part? None of them were wrong.

I had made a mistake.

I should have told her about the receptionist the moment it happened. Not because I was guilty, but because I knew deep down, I’d buried it out of fear. I’d been afraid of how it would sound, how she’d look at me, how it might taint the image I’d carefully built between us.

But I decided to keep it a secret, and secrets hurt .

And the moment someone else holds them, they become weapons for those people to use against the ones you’re supposed to protect.

Everyone knew. You had me walking into that office like an idiot when everyone knew. You embarrassed me. And you knew how I feel about being embarrassed.

That’s what she said. That’s what broke her.

I could survive her anger. I could survive her silence.

But her humiliation? Her shame ?

That was what I couldn’t bear.

I’ll deal with Vince later.

I packed my things in silence, already dialing the hotel as I shrugged on my coat.

“Please let everyone know I’ll be gone for the rest of the day,” I said to my assistant as I reached the door. “Possibly tomorrow as well.”

She gave a quick nod. “Noted.”

The call connected as I stepped into the elevator.

“Thank you for calling—”

“Margaret, it’s me. Theo Clayton. How is she?” I asked, barely letting her finish.

There was a pause on her end. “I’m sorry, Mr. Clayton. She turned down the massage.”

Figures.

“Never mind that,” I said quickly. “Has she left the room?”

“Not yet,” Margaret replied. “But I’m expecting her down soon. She’s checking out today, right?”

I froze. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Yes, Mrs. Clayton requested luggage assistance and transportation to the airport. Is that correct?”

What the hell was she thinking, and where the fuck did she think she was going?

“No, Margaret,” I said firmly. “That is not correct. Cancel both immediately.”

“Oh. Um—okay. Right away, sir.”

“I’ll be returning shortly. Please have a new key to her room printed for me.”

“Of course, Mr. Clayton,” she said, her tone careful now. “And sir? A bank card was delivered to us for you. We have it held here at the front desk awaiting a signature.”

“Thanks, Margaret. I’ll sign for it when I get there.”

I ended the call, and just as I did, my mother rang me.

Fuck man, enough was enough.

I denied it, turned my phone off, and dropped it into my pocket. The following two days were to focus on Carmen because that was the only relationship I cared about fixing right now.

˙???˙

Carmen’s suite was spotless.

The only sign someone had even been here was the neatly stacked luggage by the door. Outside the bedroom, the small en-suite kitchen bore the untouched remains of the breakfast I’d ordered—still-covered trays, wilting peonies, unopened champagne, and dark chocolate strawberries melting.

So stubborn.

I drifted toward the bedroom door and nudged it open.

Like the rest of the suite, it was clean. The only signs of life were the faint ruffles on the bed, suggesting she’d slept on top of the sheets. If she slept at all. I know I didn’t.

Margaret had been right—the room really did have an amazing view. But my eyes weren’t on the skyline. They drifted to the couch by the window.

Her outfit for today was laid out: cotton underwear, a plain t-shirt, sweats, socks, and sneakers. Next to them was her dress from the ball, carefully draped over the arm of the chair. I picked it up and held it close, inhaling the soft, lingering scent of her perfume.

It still smelled like her— unforgettable.

I was lost in it, so lost I didn’t even hear the water shut off.

What I did hear was her scream.

“Ah! How the fuck did you get in here?”

I turned, startled.