On Monday
I can’t wait to see her.
I’ve sent several messages, all replied to coldly, and tonight, they didn’t even reach the server. She also hasn’t answered my calls.
To make matters worse, I’m heading back to Boston after spending a whole day in New York sorting out a problem with a damn Sheikh who threw a party with luxury escorts, occupying an entire floor and horrifying the other guests at one of our most prestigious hotels.
Heads will roll when I find out who allowed that. The media is tirelessly reporting the incident. A Republican senator found a woman wrapped in a towel in the hallway, and my manager said he thought the man was going to have a heart attack.
I’m damn pissed, and even more annoyed that I can’t get through to Olívia. So, even after spending hours immersed in a real hell, I asked Joaquín to pick up Nina from my mother’s house.
There’s no way I can sleep tonight without talking to Olívia first.
I’m not normally anxious. I’ve never been able to afford to be, as my family’s lives were in my hands, but I’m counting the minutes to see her.
As I hand over my car to one of the hotel valets, a message arrives from Joaquín.
Joaquín:She seems like a good girl.
If it came from anyone else, that statement might not mean much, but my brother is without a doubt the most suspicious bastard there is, and now I know that, contrary to what I asked, he investigated Olívia.
With the pent-up emotions of the day, I enter the lobby without replying. Less than a minute later, another message comes.
Joaquín:The truth isn’t always pleasant, but it’s still the truth, brother.
I know,I think as I walk.
She’s not in the hotel, and calls and messages go straight to voicemail.
Where the hell did she go?
The temptation to go to her room is strong, but even for a control freak like me, it would be too much. I have no right to invade her apartment when she’s not there.
I go up to my office and check the records to see if her room has been checked out.
My gut tells me no. Despite seeming to want distance from me, Olívia is not a coward. She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.
It takes me little time to confirm that, as I suspected, she still occupies the apartment.
I turn on the monitor at my desk and activate the cameras covering the hotel entrance.
We’ll sort everything out today.
The sound of a message wakes me up from a nap, and only when I look at the clock and check the time do I realize it’s past midnight.
Miss Freitas has just gotten out of a car.
It’s from Jake, a trusted employee of my father’s who has worked for us for over fifteen years.
One of the things I appreciate most about him is that he doesn’t ask questions about the orders he receives. I wouldn’t ask anyone else to do what I asked of him because I wouldn’t expose her, but I know with him there’s no risk of Olívia’s name becoming the subject of gossip.
I press the buttons to see her entering, and for a moment, I don’t want to believe my eyes.
Olívia is walking through the lobby alongside a guy who can’t be much older than her.
I zoom in on the cameras to check if he’s just a guest and it’s just a coincidence, but when the jerk accompanies her towards her elevator, I’m about to punch something.
I pick up the phone and call Jake. “Miss Freitas is heading to the north elevator. Stop it, go there, and inform her that she’s expected in the presidential suite.”
