Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
I’m angry at Gabby because she’s moving on with her life and disrupting the good thing we had going. I’m furious at myself for bringing a child into the world without the stability that children need.
I won’t let Willow go through what we did as children. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.
SIX
Aurora
I haven’t done shifts for a while. I was basically part of the furniture at The Rookery. I knew every nook and cranny. I knew the birthday of every single member of staff. There wasn’t a bit of worn carpet I wasn’t aware of. There wasn’t a bit of chipped paint I didn’t find out about.
It couldn’t be more opposite at Hotel on Ninth Street. Even though I’ve been here a week, I’m still a fish out of water. So even though doing an evening shift isn’t my favorite thing, it’s not like I’d be popping round to see Darcy, Logan, and their children if I wasn’t at work. I’d only be trying to figure out my TV and catching up on my audiobook. And it means it’s quieter, so I can understand more about how this place works.
I’ve just watched the head receptionist, Magda, check someone in from start to finish. It’s very similar to The Rookery. Even the software they use is basically the same.
“Are we expecting many other check-ins?” I ask.
“Only a couple,” she replies. “Sunday night is often quiet for us.”
I wonder if Mr. Black is checked in. I think Avril said he would arrive on a Sunday morning even though he paid for Saturday night.
The other receptionist on duty, Adesh, clears his throat, and when Magda and I look at him, he nods toward a guest who’s just entered the building. The guest looks like she’s in her twenties. She’s wearing a short skirt and matching jacket, which is giving Chanel vibes. Her cream heels are clip-clopping on the marble and she looks up and around like she just entered the Sistine Chapel.
She turns and sees the three of us behind the reception desk and she smiles. She totters over to where I’m standing. “I’m here to see Deacon Black. He’s staying here.”
I smile, and Magda shuffles toward me in case I don’t know what to do. But of course I do. This isn’t my first rodeo. Not even my second.
“Can I take your name, please?” I ask.
“Sienna,” she replies. “Sienna Gordon.”
“Just give me a moment, Ms. Gordon. I’ll check to see if I can find Mr. Black for you.”
My fingers hover over the computer as my brain cranks into gear. But before I can press a button, Magda murmurs “325” to me, so low Ms. Gordon couldn’t possibly hear.
I dial the appropriate number. When Mr. Black-slash-Rude British Guy answers, I say, “Mr. Black, I have Ms. Gordon in reception for you.”
“Please send her up,” he replies, all businesslike but not rude.
“Certainly, sir, enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you.” He hangs up.
Adesh interrupts us. “I’ll take you up, Ms. Gordon.”
“Oh, you don’t need to,” she says. “Is it the same room as usual?”
“Please, let me show you.” Adesh comes out from behind reception and very politely escorts Ms. Gordon toward the lifts.
“Well, we haven’t seen her in a while,” Magda says. “Avril will be intrigued.”
“Intrigued?” I ask.
“Mr. Black sometimes entertains women,” Magda says. “I mean, of course he does, have you seen him? Anyway, Avril likes to…speculate.”
“I imagine he doesn’t have much of a problem with women. Although…”
“Although?” Magda asks. “There’s a caveat to Mr. Black being hot as fuck?”
I laugh. “He’s rude though, right?”
“Has he been rude to you?”
I don’t know whether I should mention he threw hot coffee on me. His reaction was so off-the-charts awful, I just assumed it wasn’t personal. I thought that behavior would show itself more generally. I thought he’d come off as rude all the time.
“I just get that vibe from him,” I say, not wanting to give too much away.
“Maybe because he’s British, you’re expecting something different,” she says. “I’m not saying he’s Chatty Cathy, but I wouldn’t say he’s rude. Just to the point and businesslike.”
“Yeah, that’s probably it,” I say. “So what’s his deal? Avril said he stays at the hotel four nights a week or something?”
“I’m not sure, and it’s not because I haven’t thought about it. I’ve even done some low-key investigations—if you count taking note of what address he puts down as his residential address as investigations.”
“And?” I ask.
“He put his residential address as a place a couple of blocks away on Forty-Fifth Street West.”
“Why would he have a place so close?” I ask. “Maybe he pisses his wife off on a regular basis.”
Magda laughs. “If I was his wife, I’d just strip him naked and tape his mouth shut. I wouldn’t care much about verbally interacting with him.”
“He can’t be married if he has female visitors to his hotel room,” I say.