Crossing Lines

Chapter 29 - Hayden

I'm impatient as hell.

Waiting for Mila to get here is torture. I haven't heard her voice in over forty-eight hours, and already I'm acting like an addict craving another shot. I'm in a spectacularly bad mood; my hands are shaking, and my heart hammers as I sip my third coffee this morning and pace the hotel room.

She'll be here soon. Just remember, Hayden.

Kim is still in the hotel, and I honestly have no idea what to think of this situation. I'm trying to wrap my head around it, figuring out if this was a setup, an unfortunate coincidence, or something much bigger that I can't even grasp.

But all of that needs to be put aside. Mila will be here soon.

I got us a two-bedroom suite, just in case, even though I don't intend to sleep without her next to me tonight. I didn't expect this shit show to take place, though, so who knows what mood she'll be in when she gets here?

After a small eternity of setting everything up, my phone finally rings, and I feel my heartbeat pick up its pace when I see it's the pilot I sent to pick her up.

"Cross," I answer.

"Ten minutes, sir. They're leaving the highway now."

"Alright. Thank you."

I don't have the patience or time for pleasantries, so I hang up before I rush down the stairs, making my way to the private underground garage entrance they set up for VIP guests.

As predicted, it doesn't take long for the car to arrive. I wanted to pick her up myself, but I didn't want to push my luck today, since the paparazzi are still on to me, and the last thing I need is them bothering Mila before we even talked.

The black Mercedes stops in front of me, and I impatiently walk to the door, my heart jumping rapidly while I open it. It's like I said, I'm addicted. As soon as I see her sitting there, those loyal eyes gazing right at me, I feel like can finally breathe again, my lungs filling with oxygen and that goddamn delicious scent of hers.

It takes a second to register that she said something, and only then do I realize she doesn't look impressed. At all. "Are you just going to stare at me?" she repeats, and I have to swallow from the sound of her voice. Because one thing is crystal clear already.

Mila is pissed as fuck.

"Well?" She raises an eyebrow at me.

Damn. I expected her to be angry, really, but I did not expect this. "Uh...no. Follow me," I stammer. God, I feel like a little boy.

She steps out of the car as I grab her bag from the trunk, and when I reach for the other large box she brought, she rips it out of my hands. Mila glares at me, that box in front of her chest while she tightens her arms around it. "No one touches Mathilda."

And I want to smirk so much at that. Fuck. I want to kiss the hell out of her with the way she looks right now, like a petite fireball. But she also looks like hell itself, her eyes shooting flaming daggers at me as she moves past the car and toward the elevator.

We both don't say a word as I press the button for the sixth floor, her vanilla perfume filling the confined space while I can't help but stare at her red lips. Why did she wear lipstick? She never wears lipstick. And why does she look so fucking dangerous with it?

"Where to?" She quirks an eyebrow as the elevator doors open. I honestly didn't realize we stopped already; Mila has my total attention.

"To the left."

She doesn't even acknowledge my response, just strides off to the left, like she fucking owns the place, and I have to say...I don't know what to make of this version of her.