I laugh inwardly to myself. What a world to live in where the only issue of the day seems to be a wardrobe malfunction.
“What’s so funny?” The hot guy’s ocean-blue eyes catch mine.
I feel like a deer in the headlights.
Shit.
Did I just laugh out loud?
My mouth gets me into so much trouble sometimes. But I’m not going to pander to this guy either, even if he is hot as hell. Especially after the day I’ve just had.
“Here you all are complaining about an outfit malfunction, and I literally only have the clothes on my back after my luggage got lost today. The woman upstairs is clearly having a laugh at my expense.” I shoot my gaze upward to the ceiling.
“What woman?” The confused look on his face is both endearing and compounds my frustration at how Americans so often take things literally.
“God,” I say, pursing my lips. That seems to make a smile break out on his face, and I reluctantly force the right side of my mouth to rise.
“Well, seems like we’re both having shitty days then.”
I ponder momentarily, debating how to respond. Sarcastically, sympathetically, or any of the other –allys? But before I do the lift stops. Both women exit.
“See y’all in the morning.” They wave, and the doors close behind them as we continue up.
The bald-headed guy with glasses, who up until this point has only uttered one word and has been typing furiously away on his phone, pipes up.
“I’ve emailed the day sheet alongside the one printed in your room for tomorrow. Glam is at ten. Call time is eleven. The junket runs straight through till five. Connie’s already briefed the journalists that tonight’s mishap is off topic so you’re not caught off guard.” The way he punctuates each sentence gives the hot guy just enough time to nod his head.
As the lift reaches the fifth floor, I go to step out, but the burly security guard stops me, pushing me back to let the hot guy and the others out first.
“Nice to see chivalry is still alive and well,” I say, my foot-in-mouth disease catching me by surprise once again.
Sarcasm clearly doesn’t land well with either of the security guards or the bald guy in glasses. But another chuckle comes from the hot guy’s mouth, reassuring me, albeit briefly, that I’ll live to see another day and won’t feel the wrath of his security.
Making my way out of the lift behind them, I instantly see why Kelly and Daniel chose this as their wedding venue. The decor is elegant but understated. Sconces adorn the cream-colored walls, held up by golden angel wings. The royal blue carpets are framed by a Versace-style pattern on the perimeter.
I stop briefly at the gold plaque highlighting which directions the rooms are in, and my shoulders drop when I realize that my room is in the same direction they already are walking in.Great.
I count each room number as I pass—500, 502, 504—beforeI get to 506, and then notice that everyone else has stopped at the next room up from mine, at what I can just make out to be the Presidential Suite.
I retrieve the door key from my pocket and after running my finger over the smooth wooden texture, press it against the card reader. But the key isn’t game. Despite several attempts, the door refuses to open. My anger bubbles up as I slam the key against the reader, harder each time. Why must all hotel doors be this difficult to open?
The three of them linger outside their room, staring at me, which doesn’t make it any easier.
“By all means, don’t let me stop you.” I motion with my hand to their door. I’m not here for their entertainment or amusement.
“Here, let me.”
The hot guy walks toward me, taking the key out of my hand as if I’m some damsel in distress. He gently slides it over the card reader, unlocking the door on his first attempt. Smugness comes over his face.
If he wasn’t so attractive, I would wipe that look right off it.
But my bed is now in sight, and that is all that truly matters.
“Thank you,” I say, opening the door wider, as he hands me back my door key. A surge of electricity races across my skin when his hand touches mine.
“I hope you get your suitcase back tomorrow. Did they say where it would be?”
His question stops me in my tracks as I enter the room, making me turn around.
