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Feeling a little warm, I tug at the collar of my dress.

“Are you claustrophobic?” he asks, concern lacing his features.

“No, not particularly.” Just with gorgeous strangers staying in the penthouse are concerned.

“Me either. I just couldn’t help but notice how tense you are.”

He noticed something about me?

I shrug, willing my shoulders to relax. “Yeah, no—I’m good. Just tired.”

“Long day?”

Small talk it is.

“You could say that.”

“In town for business or pleasure?” And the way he says the latter makes me wish it was pleasure. This heat must be really getting to me.

“Business—” The car bounces, and we finally start moving again. Thank God!

“Same,” he says, almost sounding disappointed.

After what feels like an eternity, the elevator dings and creaks to a stop. I step out, my carry-on wheel getting stuck on the threshold. Seriously?

I cannot believe the day I’m having. Mr. Penthouse offers to help, his voice smooth and concerned. “Need a hand?”

“I’ve got it, thanks,” I respond a bit more sharply than intended. I manage to free the wheel and start down the hall, eager to leave the awkwardness behind. “Have a good day.”

But before I can get too far, I hear him calling after me. “Miss?”

I stop and turn, my heart racing. I remind myself this isn’t a romance novel; I’m in a hotel hallway with a stranger. Panic nudges me backward, but his smooth voice freezes me.

“I have pepper spray,” I announce, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the sudden fear.

He laughs, a sound that’s surprisingly disarming. “Good to know. Never can be too careful these days.” I narrow my eyes at him, not ready to drop my guard just yet.

“Your key card,” he says, holding it up and steps toward me, his intentions clear. My feet are rooted in place, caught off guard.

“Oh, um, thanks,” I manage to say while grabbing it out of his hands, feeling a new wave of embarrassment wash over me. He was only trying to help, and here I am, mistaking his kindness for something else entirely. I blame it on the elevator.

With a small nod, he retreats back to the elevator and I continue on to my room. It’s only after the hotel room door finally shuts behind me and I hear the click of the lock sliding into place that I fall apart. I can’t believe I held it together this long. The check-in calamity and the handsome stranger are momentarily forgotten while reality tosses me a bouquet right to the face, leaving me gasping for air as I cry so hard that I start to laugh. But that laughter quickly turns back into turmoil.

Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision, but not before I see the unmistakable evidence that they put me in the honeymoon suite. Could it possibly get any worse?

My phone rings, and through watery eyes, I see Emma’s face lighting up my screen. I slide down the door, clutching my phone to my chest, and avoid ugly crying while I tell my best friend what happened, word for devastating word.

“Oh, Lucy. I’m so sorry. Want me to get on a plane and come to you?” Emma’s voice is filled with concern and empathy. “Or better yet, track Henry down and—”

“No, I’ll be okay,” I tell her before sucking in a deep breath.

“What are you going to do?” Emma asks gently.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll still go to the meeting,” I sigh. “But what do I say? You picked the wrong planner—turns out I can’t even hold on to my groom?”

“Listen. You’re going to get into the shower and cry it all out, then raid the minibar and—wait, is the card on file his?” Emma’s eyes narrow mischievously. “His fancy high-limit one that he uses for travel points?”

“Yes,” I admit, catching on. “But only for the room and dining package. He picked this place. We had a romantic night planned to celebrate our engagement. I hadn’t seen him in weeks.”