Thankfully, I won’t have to order another rideshare—the email says a driver will be waiting for me. My suitcase comes out first at baggage claim, instantly identifiable with its pop of vintage floral color.
I head past the row of drivers waiting, and sure enough, there’s a sign that saysBrennan.
The car is black with leather seats, spacious and lightly scented. There are four more water bottles waiting in the center console, several wet wipes, a stain remover pen, a disposable toothbrush, and a cup of mints. If the pattern holds, they’re all complimentary.
It finally dawns on me that my first class ticket wasn’t a coincidence at all. I shake my head as I look out the window, watching Dublin roll by. It’s funny—rich people don’t have to remember mundane things like water bottles. You pay a massive premium to get things for free. In this case, Artemis is paying the premium.
And it’s really, really not necessary. I suddenly wonder how much this car ride is costing, even though I’m grateful for it. But just like the overly fancy catering, the money’s already spent. Maybe I’ll email Morgan’s assistant and let her know that it was really fun, but economy’s fine from here on out.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting the hotel to be like, but it’s definitely not…this.
Every surface is made of marble, with seating areas of dark leather couches and rich red velvet rugs. Gleaming brass chandeliers hover in spheres of glass, accented by more clusters of spheres like bubbles. It’s futuristic and classic all at once.
The man at the front desk is polite and professional with a light accent, and he gives me my room key and directions.
“You can set your bag there, and it will be up shortly,” he says.
I freeze like a deer in the headlights. “Am I… allowed to take it up myself?”
The man’s eyes twinkle like he’s holding back a laugh, but he says, “Of course. Whatever you prefer.”
“C-cool, thank you.”
I can’t get over how plush the carpet is under-foot, springy and soft with every step. It’s kind of awkward wheeling a suitcase through this incredibly extravagant lobby—all the other arriving guests have handed over their luggage. But it’s still less awkward than having to figure out how much to tip. Do I even have any cash?
There’s more marble in the elevator, and all the buttons are vintage brass.
The man told me to press the “P” button in the elevator, and while that struck me as odd, it’s not until I see it above all the other numbered floors that I realize it must meanpenthouse. What?!
I have to tap my room key to get the button to stay lit, and the elevator whirs upward.
I step out into a little foyer. There’s only one door, just across from the elevator, past a little table and a leather chair. I tap my key card again, push the door open, and step into the most insanely luxurious hotel suite conceivable.
The expansive space is light, bright, modern. I recognize the decor as Japandi, the fusion of Japanese and Scandinavian design that’s popped up in more than one episode of Home Wreck Fixer.
Bewildered, I step inside. The far wall is all windows, giving an uninterrupted view of the cityscape beyond. There’s a kitchenette to my right, and a light feature made of a thousand little arcs of glass like scales rolls across the ceiling.
I am literally breathless—like if I breathe too much I’ll shatter this illusion.
But then I hear her voice, and my eyes snap right to where she sits on the creamy white couch, and it’s all too real.
“That’s what the bellhops are for,” she says, inclining her chin towards my suitcase.
“I don’t mind,” I murmur. Is she teasing again? I can’t tell.
I have a moment of panic that Morgan and I are sharing a room, but then I realize that there are no beds in this room. Two of the four doors in the suite are open, and I see a bed beyond each.
“This place is, like, four times the size of my apartment…” I don’t realize I spoke aloud until Morgan chuckles.
“Your room is on the right,” she says.
I nod. Then stand there. I think I’m waiting for her to release me.
“Feel free to unpack. Dinner’s in an hour.”
I slink into my room, resisting the urge to move too quickly. Once the door is closed behind me, I throw myself across the beautiful white bed, melting into the soft cotton and plush mattress.
My room has another panoramic floor-to-ceiling view, and there are two other doors leading off of it. As nice as it is to be horizontal, curiosity gets me back on my feet.
