Chapter 7

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Ophelia found Sullivan's room with no trouble and pushed her way through the door with Polly's leash in one hand and her luggage in the other. As soon as the door closed behind her, she took a deep breath, relieved that she could relax for a while.

Looking around the room, she noted little things. There was a toiletry bag on the desk, along with a sweatshirt on the chair in the corner. Ophelia saw a sheaf of papers on the top of the chest of drawers and walked towards it, picking it up to look. It was what she wanted, the shooting schedule.

Everything was very impersonal, and Ophelia knew there would be nothing personal lying around because the Richards had had people go through their rooms on several different occasions.

Ophelia found the day's shooting schedule and saw that they were filming at dusk and an evening scene, which meant that it would be a late night. That gave her plenty of time to take a shower and maybe get a nap before it was time to figure out a place to stay.

She was super tired, and she would make better decisions with a rested mind.

Ophelia took her time in the shower, using her own soap and shampoo. She knew she was overstepping, but she was in a bind, and she didn't need to push the issue by using Sullivan's personal belongings.

She finished her shower and reached out, grabbing the big white fluffy robe that hung next to the shower. It smelled like Sullivan's soap, and she let herself smell the collar as she walked over to the mirror to look at her pale face.

A four-day road trip was not the best way to keep oneself looking fresh-faced.

Looking at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed, Ophelia thought a two-hour nap should give her plenty of time to get dressed and get out of Sullivan's room before he returned. Her stomach was grumbling, but she could figure food out later.

She laid down on the wonderfully soft bed and fell immediately to sleep, only to be awakened three hours later by a scream. It jolted Ophelia awake, and she looked around her, wondering where she was and what was going on.

Polly gave a little growl from next to her, and Ophelia put out a comforting hand to calm her while looking from the clock to the woman standing in the door shouting something at her as she sent a text. The woman was a maid, and judging by the time, Ophelia guessed that she was there for turndown service. She had slept a lot longer than two hours.

"It's fine! Stop screaming!' Ophelia said, jumping up from the bed and moving to grab her phone. "I'm a friend of Mr. Richards. It's alright!"

The maid was having none of it. "You can't be here! You're trespassing! Help!"

"I'm not, Mr. Richards gave me the key!" Ophelia pointed to the key on the desk where she had placed it, but the maid was having none of it as she began to scream for security.

There was no helping it, she wouldn't' be able to talk her way out of this, and even if she did, the least everyone would think was that she and Sullivan were having an affair. The rumors around town would be rife. Her only option was to get Sullivan.

Polly jumped off the bed and got between Ophelia and the woman. She didn't bark or growl. She just sat between the two, waiting and watching while Ophelia sent Sullivan a text.

'I need you ASAP!' she wrote. She hoped he wasn't still filming because if he were, it would be a while until he returned her message.

'Are you still in my room?' came his quick reply.

It caused Ophelia to catch her breath. The only way he could know if she was in his room as if he had been in his room too. Had he seen her sleeping in his bed, in his bathrobe? Heat stole up to her face at the thought of it. She wasn't wearing anything under the robe, had it come undone? Had she flashed him? Why hadn't he awakened her?

'Yes,' she responded with a shaky hand. 'They're calling security.'

Ophelia was debating if she should get dressed. Perhaps if she locked herself in the bathroom, they wouldn't be able to get her out as easily. She had no clue how far away Sullivan was from the hotel.

She blushed again at the thought of him watching her sleep.

Suddenly, Justin was at the door with a security guard looking her up and down with disgust.

Great, things couldn't get better.

"I told you to leave! You can't be on the premises, much less in someone's room! I knew you were here to see them! You're a stalker, admit it! You're just like your mother; you want to marry up." It was the first time it had actually been said to her face, and she paused to look at Justin, wondering where all his anger came from. She had never done anything to him or anyone in the town, for that matter.

Why did she have to keep taking the blame for something her mother had done?

"I am not a stalker. Mr. Richards gave me his key." Ophelia insisted, crossing her arms. She had no clue that she looked like a little girl in the oversize robe.

"I don't believe you. You probably stole it." Justin marched towards her and put his hand on her arm. He was going to remove her from the room physically.

"Don't touch me!"

"Here is security. They will escort you from the room!" Justin looked relieved at the sight of them.

Justin pushed her towards them, and she tripped on the robe. Instead of trying to catch her, the security guard, whom she recognized as a friend of her brother's, stood aside to watch her fall. Thankfully, a strong arm reached out and caught her, pulling her close.

When Ophelia looked up and saw Sullivan's face, her bottom lip began to tremble. She had promised him it wouldn't be a problem, and now it was a big problem.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Sullivan looked at her wide eyes and trembling lips without a word and turned towards Justin.

"What's the problem, Mr. Cross?" Sullivan calmly asked. 

Polly ran over to greet her master, her tail wagging, and Sullivan placed a hand on her head and then rubbed her ear.

Sullivan had one hand on Polly's ear and the other on Ophelia's elbow. The simple contact made Ophelia close her eyes as relief washed over her. Now that Sullivan was there, she knew everything would be alright.

"I'm sorry, sir. This one is a local woman and has always been a troublemaker. She snuck into your room, and we were trying to remove her.

"By pushing her and not allowing her to at least get dressed? Did she not tell you she had the key? That I gave it to her?" Sullivan's voice was silky smooth. "What I don't understand is why Ms. Carter isn't in her own room, which she reserved for this evening?"

Usually, Sullivan's attention to details was obnoxious, but Ophelia was thankful for it for once.

"Ms. C-C-Carter?" Justin stammered, looking from one to the other, as the realization the Ophelia might be telling the truth began to hit home.

"Yes, she works for me, and she has just spent four days crossing the country to bring me my dog, only to arrive here and find that she doesn't have a room. Can you explain why?" Sullivan released Ophelia's elbow and motioned from the suitcase and her as he listened to Justin stammer out an answer.

Ophelia took his hint and gathered up some clothes quietly, and then moved to the bathroom, listening as well as she could from behind the closed door.

"So, you gave her room away?" Sullivan said with disbelief after listening to Justin ramble for a few minutes.

"Check-in time was at 2 pm," Justin said weekly.

"Yes, and legally you're supposed to hold the room until 2 am, are you not?" Sullivan said the same things Ophelia had, but she'd bet when he asked for the manager, he would get him.

"Y-y-yes, but-"

"There are no buts, Mr. Cross. It's the law. I'll want to speak to your manager, but not until after dinner. Can you make sure he is available after that, please?" Sullivan insisted. "Now, if you will leave us to go have our dinner, I would appreciate it."

Ophelia couldn't see what was happening as they left the room, but when she heard the door close, she threw open the bathroom door.

"I'm so sorry, Sullivan," Ophelia said once again.

She was dressed in a slight blue sweater set and a grey wool skirt, but she was still barefoot with her hair hanging down her back.

"It's not your fault that the idiot gave your room away. I don't suppose you know to whom he gave it?" Sullivan asked as she sat in the chair in the corner while Polly joined him, resting her head on his lap.

Ophelia wished she could do the same. She was so tired.

"He gave it to the mayor's daughter. If I hadn't used my name, it probably wouldn't have been a problem. Justin never liked me much." Ophelia reached for her hairpins and a brush and walked towards the dresser.

"She's a pretty girl, and it probably impressed her," Sullivan mused, not concerned that Ophelia was disliked. He either wasn't curious or realized she said it without thinking and wouldn't respond well to questioning after everything had just happened.

Ophelia turned to him with her brush in her hand. "I'm sorry, I used your room. I thought you would be on set, and I would be out of here before you got back."

"It's fine. I figured there was something up with your reservation. You look tired, Ophelia." His eyes raked over her face, and what he was thinking was a mystery. Was he pleased to see her, was he mad, did he even care?

Ophelia's stomach growled, and Polly's head tilted at the odd noise. It caused them both to laugh and eased some of the tension.

"Finish your hair. The others are already at dinner. If you hurry, we can make it before the serving staff picks up the buffet."

Ophelia made herself as neat as possible, with Sullivan's eyes watching her the entire time. It was an intimate feeling. A man had never watched her get ready before.

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