Chapter 10
Kjell
Is the woman crazy?
I stare at the question I just typed into my laptop. The black letters flicker imperceptibly against the white background.
Who is the real Skady Blohm?I write hesitantly and mentally go through possible answers.
A quick-witted woman—stunningly beautiful, smart, and witty.
An arrogant lunatic—full of self-importance, delusions, and paradoxical actions.
A mysterious soul—dark, wounded, and seeking redemption.
Nonsense.
I shake my head before I become crazy myself. Then I look up.
I watch businessmen rushing over the thick red carpets in the bustling hotel lobby from my seat on the antique-looking armchair in the corner. The scent of coffee wafts over from the counter on the opposite side of the lobby, along with the clinking of porcelain. Behind the reception desk hangs a golden clock whose hands are as long as my legs.
The twenty minutes I was supposed to wait here are over. I pack up my laptop and make my way back to the reception with my suitcase and camera bag.
In a way, it was good that Sky immediately retreated to her penthouse suite. That way, she couldn't find out that I had no reservation. And she wasn't there when the receptionist with the modern short haircut explained that the hotel was fully booked.
"It's Fashion Week," she said, looking at me as if I were insane for asking for an available room now.
With a desperate look and a lot of persuasion, I at least managed to get her to check partner hotels for available rooms on my behalf.
"Va bene," she said, pointing at the waiting area. "Venti minuti."
Even as I approach the receptionist again, I smile at her. She strains to lift the corners of her mouth. I don't need to see more to know that she was unsuccessful.
Damn. Where am I supposed to stay tonight?
Feeling discouraged, I lean on the counter. "Now what?" I ask her in English.
She shrugs. "I'm sorry."
Sleeping outside isn't an option; it's clearly too cold for that at the end of October. "Maybe a private accommodation?"
"It's Fashion Week," she repeats her words from earlier. Her facial expression seems to ask,What part of that don't you understand?
My fingers tap on the marble surface of the reception desk. "But it has to…"
"Signor, please..." She signals me to make way for the next guest and looks at someone behind me. "Benvenuto, how can I assist you?"
Muttering to myself, I step aside. Where can I stay tonight? Maybe I'll tough it out? Tomorrow, at the fashion show, I'll meetmany people. Perhaps someone will have a spare couch for the upcoming nights. Sky probably has one. She might even have a spare room in her penthouse suite.
Although I should focus on solving my problem, my thoughts linger on Sky again.
She transformed into a different person at the airport out of nowhere. Whatever she learned on the phone shook her to her core. It must be related to her father.
What if he's dead?
That must be hell for her. To receive such news… And she's up there in her suite, all alone.
I should check on her. Just to make sure that she...
