My car’s waiting in the private garage, my little Volkswagen looking hilariously out of place between a Rolls-Royce and a Porsche SUV. I let out a laugh just staring at it. The fact that Viviana always makes the security guard save me a spot is the sweetest thing.
I ease into the driver’s seat and pull out slowly.Opheliaby The Lumineers plays through the speakers, soft, steady, the kind of song that makes city traffic feel less frantic. My fall playlist is full of these mellow songs, all amber tones and sweater weather vibes.
The hotel comes into view as I turn toward the coast. It’s beautiful, an old brick building that looks more like a small castle than a hotel. Five floors, every single one facing the sea. I park along the street beside it and step out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I walk up.
The moment I step inside, I freeze. The walls are rich, earthy brick. Enormous chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, all gold and crystal, glittering in the soft light. The dark wood of the reception desk matches the heavy brown couches lining the room. The air smells faintly of cedar and something floral, expensive and elegant.
“Miss Glass?”
The voice pulls me out of the trance.
“Autumn, please.” I step forward and smile, reaching out to shake his hand. “Mr Keeffe?”
“Tiernan,” he replies with a chuckle. “My cousin’s the one with the title.”
“Please feel free to roam around, and once you’re done here, head up to the King’s Room. It’s on the top floor,” Tiernan says before turning and disappearing down the corridor.
I watch him go, noting how his suit fits like it was stitched straight onto his body. I wonder if everyone who works with the Callaghans uses the same tailor. Must be in the contract.
A laugh slips out before I can stop it, and a woman who looks like an ageing royal glares at me like I just insulted her throne. I tried to look professional with my black suit, sleek ponytail, clean makeup, but maybe I still stand out.
The lobby is… breathtaking. I’ve never been in a place like this. It’s fancy, sure, but somehow still feels warm. Inviting. A massive fireplace sits in an open lounge with deep brown couches arranged in little conversational circles. Each one has a small oak-and-gold side table next to it. I run my fingers along one of them, tracing the edge.
It can’t be real gold… can it?
Well, judging by the price of a night here, it just might be.
“Looking for something?” a man’s voice calls from behind me, and I jump, startled.
“No—” I blurt out, spinning around. “I’m the photographer. I was hired—”
He chuckles. “It’s fine. I know.”
Relief floods me. He’s dressed in black jeans and a button-up shirt, with tousled hair and soft brown eyes. He looks approachable, kind even, kinder than anyone else I’ve met at this place.
“Callum,” he says, offering a smirk.
“Autumn.” My cheeks warm under his gaze, and I hate how quickly I blush.
“So, Autumn.” He leans against a column and folds his arms, casual but too focused. “You don’t look like you belong in a place like this.”
My brows shoot up. It’s the tone that’s mocking, amused, and that unsettles me.
“I—”
“Leave,” a deep voice cuts in, commanding.
Callum freezes, and I shift to glance past him.
Flynn Brady.
Black suit. Towering. Hands in his pockets. Eyes locked on the man like he’s prey.
“I was just leaving, Mister Brady,” Callum mutters, head lowered, voice subdued.
Wait. What?They know each other?
He hurries off without another word, and Flynn’s gaze finally settles on me. My skin tightens under the weight of it.
