Ava’s scream ripped through the quiet hotel room, sharp enough to rattle the thin glasses on the bedside table. She yanked the blanket over herself, dragging it up to her chin as though it could swallow her whole and hide the mortification burning through her.

The man didn’t flinch. He leaned against the doorframe as though he had all the time in the world, as though barging into a stranger’s room in the middle of a very private moment was nothing more than an amusing coincidence.

His eyes—gray, cool, impossibly calm—skimmed over her without shame. There was no apology, no stammered excuse. Just a faint arch of his brow, like he was cataloging the way her flushed skin glowed in the dim lamplight.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ava snapped, her voice shriller than she intended. “Get out!”

“I could ask you the same thing.” His voice was deep, unhurried, and filled the room like dark velvet. He closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Ava’s heart slammed against her ribs. Oh God. He was staying? Her knuckles tightened around the blanket. “This is my room.”

“Funny,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Because this—” he lifted the key card between two long fingers “—says it’s mine.”

Her stomach dropped. “That’s impossible. The receptionist gave me this room. I checked in earlier. Look—” She gestured wildly toward the desk where her reservation papers lay scattered. “I paid for this. It’s mine.”

For a heartbeat, the stranger just looked at her, and she swore he was holding back a smile. Not the friendly kind. The infuriating kind, the one that suggested he was entertained by her outrage.

“Looks like the hotel made a mistake.” He shrugged lightly, as though that settled everything. “But since you seem…occupied, I’ll go have a word with reception.”

Ava blinked. For one dizzying second she thought he was actually going to leave. Relief rushed through her—until he paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder.

“By the way,” he said smoothly, “if you’re going to do…that…maybe lock the door next time.”

Her cheeks flamed so hot she thought she might combust on the spot. He slipped out before she could find a scathing comeback, leaving her half-buried under the blanket with shame twisting in her stomach.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. She pressed her palms to her burning face. This couldn’t be happening. Not only had she humiliated herself in front of a complete stranger, but that stranger also apparently had a legal claim to her room.

Ten minutes later, the knock came again. Ava yanked the blanket tighter around herself. “Go away!”

The door opened anyway. He walked in with the same maddening calmness, but this time the receptionist scurried behind him, looking flustered and apologetic.

“Miss Avery, I’m so sorry,” the receptionist said breathlessly. “There’s been a system glitch. The booking was duplicated. Mr. Blackwell here is also registered for this room.”

Ava’s jaw dropped. “That’s insane. You can’t just—what am I supposed to do?!”

The receptionist wrung his hands. “All the rooms are fully booked. The nearest hotel is over an hour away, and there are no taxis at this time of night. I—there’s nothing I can offer except…” His voice trailed off as if even he knew how ridiculous this sounded.

“Sharing,” Ethan supplied smoothly. He stepped further into the room, utterly unfazed. “We share.”

Ava shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re welcome to sleep in the lobby,” he said, his tone infuriatingly reasonable. “But unless you plan to curl up on a chair downstairs, this is your only option.”

The receptionist nodded miserably, clearly relieved to let the two of them fight it out. “Again, we apologize deeply for the inconvenience.” He bowed and scuttled away, leaving Ava face-to-face with the stranger she least wanted to see.

“Unbelievable.” She flung the blanket aside and jumped out of bed, snatching her robe from the chair. Tugging it tightly around her, she faced him with her arms crossed. “You think you can just waltz in here and—”

“Technically, I didn’t waltz. I used the key.” He slid his jacket off and draped it neatly over the chair, as though he already owned the place. “And before you panic again, I don’t bite. Unless asked.”

Ava gaped at him. “Do you hear yourself? You’re—You’re insufferable.”

He smirked. “So I’ve been told.”

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Ava stormed to the far side of the room, keeping as much distance between them as humanly possible. She yanked open her suitcase, pretending to busy herself with the clothes inside, though her hands shook with the leftover adrenaline.

This wasn’t how her graduation trip was supposed to go. She was supposed to be drinking cocktails on the beach, maybe wearing a ring on her finger by now. Instead, she was stuck in a room with a stranger who had caught her in the most humiliating situation of her life.

“You can take the bed,” she muttered finally. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

He arched a brow. “Chivalrous, but unnecessary. We’re adults. The bed is big enough to share.”

Her head snapped up. “Are you insane?”

He met her glare with calm indifference, then loosened his tie with a single tug. The motion drew her eyes—against her will—to the sharp cut of his jaw, the casual confidence in the way he moved. He wasn’t just attractive; he was dangerously attractive, the kind of man who looked like trouble wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit.

“I’m not asking for a midnight cuddle,” he said mildly. “I’ll stay on my side. You stay on yours.”

Ava’s throat went dry. He was too composed, too sure of himself, and it made her nervous. Men like him were used to getting their way.

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “But if you cross the line, I swear—”

He chuckled, low and warm, and for a split second her stomach betrayed her with a flip. “Relax, princess. I’ll behave. For now.”

She hated the way her body reacted, hated that his voice sent sparks down her spine even while her brain screamed danger. Pulling her robe tighter, she climbed back onto the bed, turning deliberately to face the wall.

The mattress dipped as he settled on the other side. The rustle of fabric, the soft sigh he gave as he stretched out—it was all too close, too intimate. Ava squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to fall asleep, to ignore the heat radiating across the space between them.

But sleep didn’t come. Her mind whirled with embarrassment, with flashes of gray eyes watching her earlier, with the sound of his voice curling low in her ear.

And beneath it all, a dangerous thought whispered: What if he wasn’t just a stranger? What if this was the beginning of something she couldn’t control?