He looks at me nervously, wringing his hands together. “I’m happy to return your suitcase, but the airport is twenty minutes away. If I leave now, I won’t be back until at least two.”
I close my eyes, swallowing the bile that’s begun to work its way up my esophagus.
“Okay,” I say, opening my eyes and grinning. “Fuck it. Okay.” I reach into my wallet and pull out the cash I’d intended to use for airport snacks. “Here’s a hundred. The other hundred is yours when I get my suitcase back.”
He nods. “Thank you. What does your suitcase look like?”
“You can’t miss it. It’s shiny and red.”
“Here,” he says, handing me a business card. “Please text me your number so I can contact you once I have it or if I have any questions.”
I smile, pulling out my phone and shooting him a quick text. “You’re very efficient,” I reply, and then I hear his phone ding.
“You’d be surprised how much this happens.”
And then he’s gone, and I feel like the world’s biggest idiot. I was so distracted with Luca’s impatience, and Anderson’s brush off…
Fuck.
He’s never going to let me live this down.
Sighing, I walk into the fancy resort hotel, proceed to check in, and once I take the elevator up to the third floor, I am ready for another nap. Checking my phone, I realize with dread that I have five minutes before I need to meet Luca and Anderson for our lunch meeting. I can’t be late—I don’t have time to find a hotel gift shop for some new clothes. Rushing into my room, I throw my purse onto the bed and hop into the bathroom, attempting to wash myself and my clothes in less than two minutes. Rubbing my skin down with a wet towel, I do my best to work the blood, tomato juice, and champagne stains out of my leggings and my sweatshirt. When I look up, my face falls.
Somehow, I’ve managed to make it worse.
Groaning, I turn the blow dryer on and work the water out of the clothes as quickly as possible, keeping my eye on the digital time conveniently displayed on the bathroom mirror. At 12:59, I take one last look at myself, and send a prayer up to Buffy that the restaurant has dim lighting, because I won’t be fooling a single person with this mess. My phone pings, and I see a text from Luca addressed to both Anderson and me.
Get your asses down here.
I grab the room key and dart out the door. I glance up for a second to see Anderson leaving his room, whichof courseis right next door to mine. He’d changed into a new suit, new shoes, and has somehow managed to shave the five o’clock shadow off his face.
He eyes me quickly and then stops, a look of utter disapproval on his face.
I sniff and look away, ignoring him as I close the door and walk to the elevator down the hall. I can feel his eyes on my back as I press the button for the lobby. I step in, that same scent of sweet orange spice permeating the air.
“Please tell me you have an extra set of clothes in your hideous bag.”
I scoff, looking at my brown purse. It’s a leather tote, something I splurged on last year for Valentine’s Day. I’d been dumped by a guy, and I was feeling worthless and sad, so I’d spent way too much money.
“Okay, first? This bag is not hideous. It’s Marc Jacobs. Second, no.” I pause for a second. “My luggage is indisposed.”
He nods, frowning, and then he turns to face me as the elevator dings. “This is a very important meeting, Natalia.” The door opens, but he grabs my arm and pulls me back into the shaft as the doors close on us. We don’t move, and his cool eyes find mine.
“I know Luca is doing you a favor. This company is everything to me, and I’ll do anything to make sure no one messes this trip up. We have a lot of important meetings ahead of us, and we must be professional.”
I grind my teeth together but don’t respond. Instead, I pull my arm away and press the open-door button, stalking away from him as quickly as possible when they open. Why would Lucaeverwork with such an arrogant dickhead? Let alone become partners with him? Taking on a business partner was a big deal. Sure, he was handsome… in an old school, Viking, holier-than-thou way. It’s the only explanation I can come up with. My brotherdoeslike to play with pretty things. However, that’s where the compliments end, because a pretty face does not make up for a bad personality. No, Anderson must’ve been the best of the best for Luca to hire him. He’d never settle for anything less.
“I’ll do the talking,” Anderson adds as he catches up to me in the ornate lobby. Decadent fig trees line the walls, and palm fronds sit crisscrossed on the walls every few feet. The restaurant down the hall appears to overlook the ocean—definitely not dim lighting.
“It’s the twenty-first century. Women can speak for themselves, if you haven’t already heard.”
My flip flops slap the shiny marble floors with each step, and I ignore the feeling of Anderson at my heels.
We are greeted by a host, and he leads us to a private room—this one in particular hanging over the water. I hold my head up high, bracing myself for Luca’s judgement.
I see him chumming it up with two middle-aged men wearing suits and try not to roll my eyes. He looks up as I round the corner, and he gives me a questioning look, which relieves me. HeknowsI would never show up to something like this in a stained sweatshirt unless something was very, very wrong.
Twin intuition.
