"Alison." Grayson tried to rouse Alison, but she remained in a deep sleep, completely out cold. Maybe I should leave her in the car for tonight, he thought to himself. But deep down he knew he couldn't, yet he still considered it as a desperate last resort.
Grayson made the quick decision to carry her up to his hotel room, booking her a room for tonight. Carefully unbuckling her seat belt, he lifted her gently. Her skin felt soft and delicate, and she felt ethereal in his arms, as light as a feather—an indication of neglect and weight loss.
With steady steps, Grayson carried Alison out of the limo and through the hotel lobby. He navigated the hallways effortlessly, without encountering any obstacles. Grayson reached his room and gently placed Alison on the bed.
As he leaned over her, a stray strand of hair caressed her face. He couldn't resist the urge to gently tuck it back behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her soft skin. His gaze traced the contours of her face, his finger lingering near her chin before he pulled back, reminding himself that they were only friends and nothing more.
A small yawn slipped past Grayson's lips, his gaze lingering on Alison before redirecting his attention to the practical matters ahead. He left the room and headed towards the receptionist's desk, his mind focused on finding a place for Alison. But as he made his way down, he caught sight of someone familiar approaching. With brown hair, dressed in a black tuxedo, and sporting a rather punchable face, it was none other than Mason Valentine.
Grayson couldn't help but feel as though the universe was conspiring against him. Dealing with Alison was already challenging enough, and now to encounter Mason Valentine? It was simply dreadful timing.