The hotel foyer hummed with quiet luxury—polished marble floors reflecting the glow of crystal chandeliers, plush sofas arranged like islands of privacy in a sea of muted conversation. She stretched lazily in her seat, her fingers tapping an idle rhythm against her knee. Her sharp eyes were fixed at the entrance, waiting for the right moment to set her plan in motion.

She cut a striking figure—tall and statuesque, she crossed her long, nylon-clad legs with deliberate grace. The snug pencil skirt hugged her thick thighs, while the crisp white blouse dipped low in a calculated tease of cleavage, its top three buttons left undone, her generously sized breasts barely contained. Her beige trench coat, draped open like a stage curtain, added an air of polished nonchalance. Dark brunette hair cascaded past her shoulders in deliberate waves, framing a face that balanced allure with razor-sharp awareness—every inch of her a weapon wrapped in elegance.

The sharp click of her stilettos cut through the hotel’s murmur, an announcement of her approach as she glided toward the reception desk.

"I’m sorry, sir," said the receptionist. "There’s an issue with your door’s lock. Maintenance is already on it. Please, enjoy the bar while you wait—complimentary, of course."

Her hand settled on his shoulder. He tensed, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in, her breath brushing his ear as she confessed with a laugh

"Oops—that was totally me." Her fingers lingered on his arm, squeezing just enough to make him notice. "I’m right next door, and I swear..." She caught her lower lip between her teeth, eyes dancing with mischief. "I got the numbers mixed up. My key didn’t work, so I may have..." A slow, guilty shrug. "Persuaded your lock a little too hard."