The Firefighter Returns as a Quintillionaire King

Chapter 9

A scream pierced through Alex's dreamless sleep.

His eyes shot open, his firefighter instincts immediately kicking in. For a split second, he thought the hotel was on fire again. 

But then reality crashed over him as he took in his surroundings—the dingy motel room, the tangled sheets, and the woman sitting up beside him, clutching the blanket to her chest.

Her face was a mask of horror and fury.

"What the hell happened?" she shrieked, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "What did you do to me?"

Alex sat up slowly, wincing as his injured leg protested. Memories of last night flooded back—the men in the hallway, the drugged woman stumbling into his room, her desperate pleas, her insistent touches.

"Look," Alex said, running a hand through his disheveled hair, "I can explain—"

"Explain?" The woman's eyes blazed. "Explain what? That you took advantage of me when I was vulnerable?"

"That's not what happened." Alex kept his voice calm, reasonable. "You were drugged. There were men chasing you. You came into my room, and I hid you from them. As for the rest..." He shrugged helplessly. "You were pretty insistent. I tried to stop you, but you wouldn't listen."

The woman stared at him, her jaw clenched. She looked different in the harsh morning light—still beautiful, but harder somehow. Her makeup was smeared, her auburn hair a wild mess, but her eyes were sharp and calculating now that the drugs had worn off.

"This never happened," she said finally, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Do you understand me? This. Never. Happened."

"Fine by me."

"I'm serious." She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. "If anyone finds out about this—if you tell anyone, if you post about it online, if you even hint at it—I will destroy you. I will make your life a living hell. I will make you wish you'd never been born."

Alex held up his hands in surrender. "Relax. I'm not the kind of guy who brags about sleeping with people. Your secret's safe with me."

The woman studied him suspiciously, her eyes narrowing. "You really don't know who I am, do you?"

Alex looked at her blankly. "Should I?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" Her voice rose in indignation. "You seriously don't recognize me?"

"No." Alex shook his head honestly. "You're beautiful, obviously, but I've never seen you before last night."

The woman's mouth fell open slightly. "I'm Sherry Brown! The actress? Singer? I have three million followers on I*******m! I was just in 'Midnight Confessions' last month!"

Alex blinked. "Never heard of it."

"Never heard of—" Sherry looked like she'd been slapped. "How is that even possible? Everyone knows who I am!"

"I don't really follow entertainment news," Alex admitted with a shrug. "I'm a firefighter. I don't have time for movies and TV shows."

Sherry stared at him like he'd just told her the earth was flat. "You're either the most sheltered person in America, or you're lying to make me feel better about this whole situation."

"I'm not lying. I genuinely have no idea who you are."

For a moment, Sherry seemed torn between offense and relief. 

Finally, she let out a long breath and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. "Fine. Whatever. That actually makes this easier."

She threw off the blanket and started gathering her clothes, which were scattered across the floor. 

Alex politely turned his head, though given what had happened last night, the gesture felt almost ridiculous.

"So those men last night," Alex said, focusing on the peeling wallpaper. "What was that about?"

"Business dispute," Sherry said curtly, pulling on her skirt. "I turned down a role offered by their boss. Apparently, he doesn't take rejection well."

"So he had you drugged?"

"Apparently." Her voice was bitter. "Thought he could compromise me, get some blackmail material, force me to sign the contract. Joke's on him though—I got away before they could do anything."

"Did you get a good look at any of them?"

Sherry paused in buttoning her blouse. "Why?"

"Just wondering if you plan to report them."

She let out a harsh laugh. "Report them to who? The police? Please. These guys have connections. Half the cops in this city are on their payroll." She turned to face him, her expression cold and calculating. "But I don't need the police. I have my own ways of dealing with people who cross me."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they thought they could ambush me, drug me, and get away with it." Sherry's smile was razor-sharp. "They were wrong. Did you get a good look at them?"

Alex thought back to the hallway encounter. "The leader had a scar on his face. Ran down his left cheek. Wore a lot of gold jewelry. The other two were just muscle—generic tough guys."

"Scar on his left cheek..." Sherry's eyes lit up with recognition. "That would be Marcus Kane. One of Victor Rossi's enforcers." She pulled out her phone and started typing rapidly. "Victor's the producer who wanted me for his new project. Thinks he can force actresses into his films using intimidation and blackmail."

"Sounds like a real charmer."