Chapter 3: The Stranger in the Suite (Part One – King Albanian's POV)
The suite was silent, save for the low hum of the rain tapping against the windowpane.
King Albanian stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel draped low around his hips. Steam curled around his body like smoke, blurring the reflection of a man who no longer recognized himself.
His gaze locked on the scar just below his ribcage.
A reminder.
A warning.
A betrayal.
Kwok.
His twin. His mirror. His ruin.
They had been inseparable once. Two sides of the same golden coin—genius businessmen, heirs to the Albanian Empire, powerful and unstoppable. Until greed had poisoned more than just their bloodline.
It had poisoned him—literally.
The night he'd collapsed at the gala, clutching his chest while paparazzi screamed for pictures, had become tabloid history. But what the cameras didn't capture, what no article had dared to print, was what came after:
> "The poison damaged your system. You're… sterile now, Mr. Albanian."
Sterile.
Impotent.
Shattered.
The rumors spread like wildfire. King had tried to stay out of the spotlight, delegating to senior directors, keeping his distance while the world whispered about his failure as a man.
Kwok, of course, had played the grieving brother well.
Snake.
Tonight marked two years since that night. Two years since King Albanian stopped believing in intimacy, in touch, in desire.
He hadn't felt anything since.
Until tonight.
The girl at the bar.
The one in red.
Something about her had curled into his chest like smoke and stayed there, a heat he hadn't felt in years.
She had looked at him—not with recognition or expectation—but with… choice.
Her eyes had lingered.
Hungry. Searching.
But then he'd turned away. He didn't do distractions. Not anymore. Not since Kwok.
He turned on the shower again, needing the scalding water to drown his thoughts.
But that was when he heard it—
A soft click.
The door.
He froze.
Every nerve in his body went still.
The hotel staff didn't enter without permission. No one had a key to this suite but him.
Was it Kwok?
No. Kwok wouldn't be so direct. He'd slither in, not walk through the front door.
King grabbed the towel off the rack and stepped into the shadowed hallway connecting the bathroom to the living room.
He stopped.
And stared.
She was there.
The girl in red.
Hair tousled, cheeks flushed, heels off. She held them in one hand, her bare feet padding softly over the marble. Her eyes were glazed with the remnants of alcohol, her lips parted in a dreamy smile. Her dress clung to her like a lover's hands.
And she didn't scream.
She didn't gasp or apologize.
Instead, she looked around the suite with a curious expression… and then her gaze landed on him.
She blinked slowly.
Then smiled.
"I found you."
King didn't speak. His body was still, but his mind was reeling.
She thinks I'm someone else.
She doesn't know who I am.
She has no idea she just walked into the King Albanian's private suite.
He should correct her.
He should send her away.
But something in his chest—something buried for years—stirred. A flicker of warmth. A pull.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was rough, unused. Like thunder in a stormless sky.
She tilted her head and walked closer. "Don't play innocent. You knew I was watching you."
"I don't know who you think I am," he said carefully.
She stopped just a few feet from him and whispered, "I don't need to know who you are."
Her words pierced something deep. Unseen.
King swallowed hard.
She stepped closer, slowly. No fear. No hesitation. Just raw, drunken honesty.
"I didn't want to be touched by someone they chose for me," she said softly. "I came here to make a choice. For once. Just once. Mine."
Her eyes glistened—not just from the wine, but something deeper. Like grief. Like freedom.
"I saw you," she said. "And I knew."
King felt the air shift between them. The steam from the shower mingled with the heady scent of her perfume—floral and honeyed, a temptation that curled into his lungs.
He should send her away.
He couldn't.
Not yet.
He shakes his head under the shower of water, what kind of thought is this?
Why does this girl affect him so much?
Thinking she barge into his room and he didn't send her out.
Not happening.
He doesn't like anyone in his space especially women, they are come for the same reasons.
Money
Power.
Fame