Chapter 2 - The Platinum Suite
Ethan stood trembling by the linen-covered table, his mind spinning into sheer vertigo.
Every designer garment he wore, every corporate club entrance he flaunted, and every executive favor he enjoyed had been quietly anchored by Victoria’s invisible empire.
Lucy grabbed Ethan’s arm, her voice high and frantic.
"Ethan, don't let her play mind games with us! We have our suite upstairs! We don't need this dining room!"
Diane sneered, trying to salvage her shattered dignity before the surrounding patrons could laugh openly.
"Let the cold creature eat alone, Ethan! We have Suite 1808 reserved for the night, complete with private catering and vintage champagne!"
Victoria did not even look at them as the head waiter placed a vintage vintage glass of sparkling mineral water before her.
"Enjoy your climb up the elevator, Ethan," Victoria said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ten minutes later, the elevator doors opened on the eighteenth floor of the Obsidian Club’s private luxury hotel wing.
Lucy and Ethan hurried down the carpeted corridor toward Suite 1808, their footsteps muffled by the plush runner.
Lucy’s breathing was erratic, her fingers clutching her micro-purse with white-knuckled desperation.
"She’s just bitter because you chose me, Ethan," Lucy whispered, trying to convince herself more than him.
"Once we announce the merger between your logistics firm and my father’s suppliers, Victoria won't matter anymore."
Ethan swallowed hard, unable to shake the cold dread that had settled into his gut at the dining table.
They arrived at the double oak doors of Suite 1808, decorated with polished brass hardware and an illuminated room number.
Before Ethan could touch his key, the sound of heels clicking down the hallway made them both freeze.
Victoria emerged from the secondary elevator lobby, her trench coat draped effortlessly over her shoulders.
Lucy immediately stepped in front of the door handle, crossing her arms in sheer, defensive malice.
"This is our room now, Victoria," Lucy sneered, her chin lifted high.
"You were humiliated downstairs, and now you're stalking us to our private sanctuary? You don't belong here!"
Victoria walked straight toward the door, ignoring Lucy’s defensive posture entirely.
She reached into her black leather handbag, withdrew a matte-black platinum master keycard, and held it up.
Without uttering a single word, Victoria tapped the keycard against the electronic brass lock.
The panel flashed a soft emerald green, and the heavy bolt clicked open with a smooth mechanical release.
Lucy’s mouth fell open in sheer, paralyzed disbelief.
"Apparently, I do," Victoria said in a deadpan tone, leaning against the doorframe.
"How... how did you open that?" Lucy gasped, her eyes darting between the green indicator light and Ethan’s pale face.
"Ethan, didn't you book this suite with your personal executive assistant?"
Before Ethan could invent another pathetic excuse, the club’s second floor concierge, Julianna, walked down the corridor holding an illuminated tablet.
Julianna halted beside Victoria and bowed slightly.
"Good evening, Miss Hale."
"Suite 1808 is permanently held under your name on an open, perpetual retainer."
"We were informed by front desk management that unauthorized individuals were attempting to access your private residential suite."
Victoria turned slowly, her piercing green gaze locking directly onto Lucy’s face.
"Your room, Lucy?" Victoria asked, her voice silky and terrifyingly calm.
Lucy let out a nervous, brittle laugh, wrapping both arms around Ethan’s bicep for support.
"Well... so what if the suite is under your account? Ethan still brought me here!"
"He wanted to treat me like a queen, and you can't take that intention away from us!"
Victoria pushed the door fully open, allowing the light from the suite’s interior to spill into the hallway.
Inside, the grand parlor featured a silver service cart loaded with imported French champagne, crystal bowls of fresh strawberries, and two dozen dried imported roses.
Victoria walked inside, her fingers grazing the chilled silver champagne bucket while she inspected the billing receipt tucked beneath the floral vase.
"Champagne, roses, breakfast in bed... he did all of it for me, Victoria!" Lucy boasted, stepping into the room with renewed defiance.
"He spared no expense to make sure I felt cherished, something he never did for you!"
Victoria picked up the embossed billing invoice and glanced at Julianna, who remained politely at the threshold.
"Julianna, who paid for this bespoke room service package and the four-thousand-dollar vintage vintage champagne?"
"Your standing executive house account, Miss Hale," Julianna replied without a moment's hesitation.
"All ancillary charges incurred in Suite 1808 are automatically cleared through your personal family trust."
Victoria tossed the paper invoice onto the glass coffee table, turning back toward Ethan and Lucy with an amused, mocking smile.
"My suite."
"My standing account."
"My spineless fiancé."
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Victoria tilted her head, letting her eyes travel slowly from Lucy’s borrowed dress down to her designer pumps.
"And somehow, in that twisted, delusional little mind of yours... you actually thought you won."
