"Oh, no, they wouldn't be. They needed to be laundered, so I sent them through hotel laundry, but don't worry, they're safe and sound, and I'll personally make sure you get them back when you return."
"Oh, thanks," I force out, not sure if I should press about my boots, but she didn't mention them, and they can't exactly belaundered.
"Was that all?"
"Oh, actually," I say, trying to make it sound like I just realized. "I don't see my boots here, either."
"Boots?"
"Yeah. I had a pair of leather boots. They were what I had on when I arrived for the press meeting, remember? I asked you to bring them up to the suite for me?"
A pause. "Oh, right. You know, I bet those got left behind when I packed up for you. They were so dirty, I think I put them in a bag to protect your new clothes, but maybe the bag never made it into the suitcase.”
My stomach squeezes.
Why the fuck did I let her pack my shit for me?
Stupid.
"Tell you what, I'll personally call the hotel and see if they found them. With any luck, they set them aside somewhere. If not, then I'd be happy to replace them."
"That's okay,um, thanks again."
"Anytime! Enjoy the sunshine!"
The call disconnects, and I squeeze my phone in my palm.
They don't know where I am.
I can only imagine how badly they're freaking out right now.
I need to get those photos for Céline before they do something stupid and ruin the whole plan.
Right now, though, the best thing I can do is reassure them I'm okay. That should hold them off.
I flick to the texts with Céline and type out a simple message.
Aurora
Morning! My laptop is dead, and the adaptor I brought doesn't seem to be working to charge it. As soon as I can get it up and running, I'll order that new toy. Hope Ellie is doing okay. Give her a big hug for me!
There.
That should tide them over until I can get the new adaptor and photos. A quick shower to wash off the travel and wake myself up, and then I'll go get both.
Everything is fine.
After my insanely amazing shower, I find the least offensive outfit from the heap of clothes on the floor: a pair of jeans and a soft, wine-red shirt. Then I'm peering out into the hall, finding it completely vacant, save for the growing light coming from the terrace at the very end.
Slipping out of the room, I quietly shut the door behind myself, not wanting to draw any attention to the fact that I'm awake yet.
I should go straight to the terrace and take those photos, but my steps falter when I reach the first door.
Ambrose said these were my mother's rooms.
I hesitate for another few seconds before deciding to have a really quick look. My throat is dry again as I twist the handle and push the door open. It creaks loudly, and I wince, pushing it fast and just enough so that I can slip through to avoid too much noise.
The fact that it creaks at all makes me think no one goes into these rooms much.
