Meetings?
I want to ask Cooper what the meetings are for but don’t. The car ride here and all of our laughing created a false sense of friendship that just proves why I don’t trust Tyler. I don’t doubt where our alliances and the lines of our relationship have been drawn and have no interest in approaching them.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I’m the only one to blame.
I know the rules.
What’s more, I know the score.
“Please follow me to your room,” Natasha says, moving out from the desk with a stack of key cards in her perfectly manicured nails. It’s not her fault I’m measuring myself against her, comparing all of her perfections to my imperfections and feeling slightly more defensive and inadequate with each one noted.
A man moves to take her place behind the desk. He has dark brown hair and blue eyes that are a shade so dark they’re nearly violet. He’s striking and so distracting I nearly collide with Cooper as he starts to move forward.
Nessie chuckles, grabbing my hand and spinning me around to follow them into the massive lobby. “Do they hire models here?” I ask as I steal another look back at the guy who grins at me before he winks and makes me feel like I’ve just won front-row tickets to a concert.
“Is this a freaking atrium?” Nessie asks. “Oh my gosh, there are crocodiles! Chloe, are you seeing this?” she whisper-yells, clinging to my arm as she points at a sign.
Tyler glances at us, and Nessie tries to smile and play it cool although she’s visibly still bouncing and freaking out as we stare with wide eyes at the lobby and the glass ceiling.
Natasha leads us to the bank of elevators and goes to the one on the far right. “You’ll need to remember that this is the only elevator that goes up to the presidential suite,” she explains.
Presidential suite?
Nessie’s fingers dig into my arm with the same thought.
The doors open immediately, revealing white marble tiles patterned with smaller black and gray ones. The walls are dark wood with carved accents. There’s a large ornate mirror on the opposite side of the doors, and below it is a leather bench seat.
“Oh my gosh,” I whisper as quietly as I can manage. “There’s a couch in the elevator.”
“They don’t get out much,” Cooper says, ushering us forward when the others remain still, waiting for us to step inside the elevator’s cab.
“Sorry,” I say, quickly moving forward.
Natasha swipes one of the key cards and hits the top floor: eighteen.
“Do you guys have plans for tonight? Do you need any dinner reservations? Chef Babineaux is here tonight, and she’s prepared numerous specialties and would be honored for you all to dine in the restaurant,” she says.
Tyler nods. “That will be great. We’ll be down in an hour.”
Natasha nods. “Most certainly. Your table will be ready.”
The doors open with a chime, leading straight into a massive and elaborate space with no additional door or hallway. We step right into a foyer with bright white tiles that gleam from the warm lights that fill and warm the space. More fresh flowers are set on a round table; all perfect blooms. Ahead of us is the fanciest living room I’ve ever stepped into, which is saying something because I’ve been to parties that Ian Forrest, another member of the football team whose family is ungodly wealthy, has thrown in his mansion in Seattle. This suite makes that place look like a shack. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch the span of the room, revealing the bright lights of the city. Sleek couches sit in a U-shape, and beyond them is another group of couches with a massive fireplace and a grand piano. Along the wall is a bar with lights glittering across a sleek black counter.
“I’ll have them take care of the luggage while you’re dining. Would you like all of the garments hung? And does anyone have any requests for temperature or any oils?”
Nessie and I exchange another glance before looking at Tyler. “I think we’re fine, thanks,” he tells her.
Natasha nods again, her smile tight. “If you need anything, please let me know.” She hands Tyler the stack of key cards with a smile.
“Thank you,” he says with a casual nod, making me realize this is his norm. He didn’t bat an eye at the full atrium in the middle of the hotel or the fact there was a freaking couch in the elevator or that this room is more opulent than I could have even tried to imagine.
Natasha heads back toward the single elevator and disappears behind the elegant wooden doors with intricate paneling that barely resembles an elevator.
“There are only three bedrooms. You two are welcome to the master,” Tyler says.
Nessie stares at me, and I quickly shake my head. “No. You should definitely take it,” she replies.
“I’ll take it,” Cooper says, his head dropped back to take in the high ceilings and expansive windows.
I press my lips together to keep from scoffing or laughing because either reaction seems plausible during this completely implausible situation.
“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the suite.” Tyler steps forward, passing the couches and then the other set of furniture. When we reach the piano, I notice a staircase and elevator. “The elevator goes up or down. The stairs only go up.”
“I thought she said there was only one elevator to go back to the lobby?” I ask, chancing a look at him and regretting it and the question instantly. His clear blue eyes are narrowed, watching us like he’s expecting us to steal or harm something.
Tyler nods. “This one goes down to the private pool or up to the bedrooms.”
Nessie turns to look at me, but I ignore her, realizing it’s likely our continued shock and surprise that has him so defensive and annoyed. We need to chill. I pull in a deep breath that I hold for five seconds in an attempt to calm my features into passive. Tyler continues up the stairs with Nessie close behind. I steal another look around and then at the elevator that leads to the pool—the private pool—and realize there’s no chance I’m going to be able to remain cool and calm. We’ve just won the travel lottery.
Cooper chuckles, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Wild, right?”
“This doesn’t even seem real. I had no idea places like this existed, much less ever expected to stay in one.”
“I bet the food is going to be so good,” he says.
I pause. “We can’t afford to eat at a place like this. I’m sure it’s over a hundred bucks a plate.”
Coop shakes his head. “Ty said it’s part of the experience, and we’ll be helping him by offering our feedback. He’s doing this to report back on some of the hotels that are struggling.”
“Struggling? This hotel is struggling?”
Coop shrugs.
“I feel like a fish out of water,” I admit.
“You’ve gotta fake it till you make it. Once my company’s big, we’re going to be flying around the world, staying in places like this.” He weaves his fingers together and stretches them out in front of himself.
“Don’t get too big for your britches,” I warn him, recycling the saying his grandma frequently uses when he talks about his plans for anything from school to football to his dream career.
He laughs, dropping the pose and slinging his arm around me. He propels us forward to catch up to where Nessie and Tyler stand at the top of the stairs. It’s another living room filled with more couches, but these look less masculine and more inviting with throws and pillows woven with bright blues and greens. The furniture faces another wall of windows that look out over the city. But what grabs my attention is the telescope set beside the glass practically begging for use.