Angela's POV
I moved my hands to pull back the blanket—and froze. My chest tightened. I wasn’t wearing the clothes I’d had on last night. Instead, I was in a man’s shirt, way too big for me.
“Shit… what happened last night?” I muttered, panic creeping into my thoughts. I tried to remember. Bits and pieces flashed through my head, but nothing was clear.
Then I faintly heard water running from the bathroom. My body tensed. I wasn’t alone here.
My heart raced. I had to get out—now.
I scrambled for my clothes and finally found them on the floor near the sofa, mixed in with my scarf and sunglasses. I grabbed them quickly, but as my hands touched the shirt I’d worn last night, a sharp, sour smell hit me.
I grimaced.
Everything from last night was still blurry. I vaguely remembered throwing up, a man cursing, and then darkness. Somehow, when I’d vomited on the stranger’s shirt, some of it had splashed onto mine too. Not much, but enough to leave the smell.
No time to think about it now.
I threw on my clothes as fast as I could, followed by my sunglasses and scarf. Once I was fully dressed, I heard the bathroom water stop.
Shit.
My eyes darted to the nightstand. A phone sat there. Was it mine? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t have time to check. Without thinking, I grabbed it and bolted before the bathroom door opened.
Once I was out, I breathed a little easier. But then it hit me—the stranger was staying at the same hotel. As I walked down the corridor, I immediately looked for my own room number.
When I finally found it, I slipped inside and locked the door. Leaning against it, I tried to steady my breathing.
“What the hell happened last night?”
I tried to remember, but my head felt empty. Frustrated, I gave up and headed to the bathroom, letting warm water pour over me. I stood there, letting the tension wash away with it. I stayed in the shower long enough to calm myself and gather the scattered pieces of my mind.
When I was done, I dressed casually—an oversized sweater, jeans, and sneakers. I pulled the hood over my head and put on sunglasses and a mask. It was a simple disguise, but enough to keep unwanted attention away.
Santa Barbara was too beautiful to skip. I needed some fresh air. After all the chaos, I had to breathe before facing reality and the scandal waiting for me.
I stepped out, headed to the parking lot, got in my car, and drove toward Stearns Wharf. When I arrived, I parked and strolled along the wooden pier.
The sea breeze hit my face, salty and mixed with the smell of grilled fish from the nearby food stalls. People walked past—some fishing, some taking photos, and others enjoying ice cream and chatting.
I stopped at a fish-and-chips stand. A middle-aged man wearing an apron greeted me with a warm smile.
“What’ll it be, miss?”
I glanced at the menu. “One order of fish and chips, to go.”
He nodded and started preparing it. I let my gaze wander, feeling somewhat safe—until I caught a whispered conversation behind me.
“Hey, she looks just like Angela Jones.”
I stiffened instantly.
“Could it really be her?” another voice replied.
Reflexively, I ducked my head, pulling my hood lower. Damn it—I’d taken off my mask in the car. I hugged the counter, pretending not to hear.
“Here’s your order, miss,” the man said, handing me the bag.
I grabbed it quickly. “Thanks.”
I hurried back to my car before anyone could recognize me. Once inside, I exhaled, nearly collapsing.
I opened the bag and started eating. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.
Then a notification pinged from the phone on the seat next to me. I froze. I hadn’t turned on my phone since last night.
So how could there be a message?
I reached into my bag and pulled out the phone. My breath caught. The wallpaper wasn’t mine. The whole interface was different.
This wasn’t my phone.
Shit. This had to be the stranger’s phone.
I remembered this morning—I’d grabbed a phone off the nightstand in the stranger’s room without checking. How careless.
The screen was locked. I couldn’t access any contacts. I needed to swap it back immediately. I decided to head back to the hotel.
But midway there, the phone rang.
The locked screen showed my own number. Maybe the stranger was trying to call me using my phone. Hesitantly, I answered.
“Hello?” My voice trembled.
On the other end, a man’s voice was calm and firm. “Looks like our phones got switched.”
I paused, gathering courage. “Sorry… it was an accident. I’ll come back to swap them.”
“I’m not at the hotel anymore,” he said, calm but authoritative. “I’m at a vineyard in Santa Ynez Valley. You can come here.”
I frowned. Santa Ynez Valley?
I wasn’t very familiar with the area around Santa Barbara, but I knew it was famous for its wineries.
“Wait,” I interrupted quickly.
I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a pen and a small notepad. “Okay, tell me the location.”
He gave it to me clearly, and I jotted it down, double-checking it.
“I’ll be there,” I finally said.
Without another word, he hung up. I’d wanted to avoid the stranger, but it seemed I had no choice.
I drove toward Santa Ynez Valley. The trip from Stearns Wharf took about forty-five minutes.
When I arrived at the vineyard, I saw rows of neatly trimmed grapevines. A large building stood in the center, with a spacious terrace and big windows overlooking the fields.
I stepped out, scanning the area. How would I even find him in a place this big?
Then a young man in a crisp suit approached.
I tensed. Was he the stranger who’d brought me to his room last night?
He stopped in front of me, calm and professional. His eyes briefly glanced at the phone in my hand before he spoke.
“I’m here to get that phone.”
His voice was flat, almost emotionless.
I nodded and hurriedly handed it over. “Ah, yes. I’m here to return it.”
He handed me my phone. “Thank you. I’m sure this was inconvenient,” he said.
I accepted it, letting out a sigh. “Sorry about this. I didn’t mean for it to happen. About last night—I ended up vomiting…”
Before I could continue, he cut me off. “I’m not the one you met last night.”
I froze, frowning. “What?”
“I’m just his personal assistant,” he said formally. “Mr. Carter is handling business here. I was asked to collect his phone.”
I stiffened.
Carter?