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“Umm, no. My phone has Google Maps. Works in every country.”
“Well, what about dinner?” I ask, aware that I’m sounding desperate but completely unable to help myself.
“What about it?” She frowns.
“Do you want to join me tonight?”
She grimaces, already shaking her head before I’ve even finished getting the question out. “Thanks but I’m really whacked after the anxiety of flying. I’ll probably just order room service and crash.”
I want to point out that she just slept for the entire flight, more or less I’m guessing, so how much more sleep does she need? But I don’t. I feel like she’s avoiding me, and I don’t know why. I just hugged her and she didn’t pull away…I thought we were making progress.
“Okay, Angelica. Drive safely. Remember it’s the correct side of the road over here.”
Internally, I sigh. But I try to hide my disappointment. I had hoped this trip would bring us closer together, maybe even give us the opportunity to rekindle what we started at her flat. But now it’s looking like Angelica was dead set on us just being friends. Or worse,justbeing work colleagues.
“Haha,” she replies with a tight smile, grabbing her bag and walking off without a backwards glance.
“How may I help you?” The woman behind the desk asks, giving me a beaming smile. That’s when I notice the neatly folded travel blanket and pillow on the desk, and my confusion grows.
ChapterTwelve
Angelica
Oh my god, this is the nicest hotel I’ve ever set foot in. From the moment I pulled up outside and the valet took my keys to park the car for me and a bellboy carried my bags inside, I knew it was going to be posh.
I just didn’t expect it to bethisswanky.
The room is beautiful. A ginormous bed – bigger than anything I’ve ever seen in the UK – looks out over the city. I’m not on the top floor, not by a long shot, but I can still see for miles.
My favourite thing about the room though is the bathroom. An enormous tub overlooks more floor to ceiling windows and I’m currently relaxing in a luxurious bubble bath with high end products that I never splurge on at home.
Not because I can’t afford to, but because I’ve always thought why bother? All shampoo cleans your hair, who cares what packaging it’s in? It’s almost as bad as the multi-billion pound perfume industry con, and when you make a living selling a lie, it makes you more careful about what you choose to spend your money on.
As I sink even deeper into the hot bath, I let out a sigh of pure bliss. The bubbles tickle my skin and the rich, floral scent of the bath salts fills my nose, making me feel like I’m in a dream. I take a deep breath and let the steam envelop me, my mind drifting off to a peaceful place.
Until the door to the bathroom opens and someone walks in.
I scream, eyes flying open as I try to cover myself with the bubbles, but the intruder just stands there, staring at me with a flabbergasted expression on his face.
“Lycus! What the hell are you doing in here?” I demand, feeling horribly exposed and vulnerable.
My heart is racing, and I feel the sudden urge to yell, but I manage to keep my voice steady.
He seems to snap out of his trance and stammers out an apology, “I’m so sorry, I thought this was my room. They must have given me the wrong key at reception.”
I’m still in shock, wondering how he could have made such a mistake. But then I see the look on his face, and I realise that he’s just as mortified as I am. It seems like a genuine error.
“I’ll leave, I’ll leave right away,” he says, backing out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
I hear him fumbling with the main door, and I let out a long breath. What a nightmare. I can’t believe that just happened. All of my carefully melted away stress seems back with a vengeance.
I’m determined to return to that zen-like feeling though, so I let out some of the cooled water and top it back up to the brim with hot.
Twenty minutes or so later, there’s a knock on the door. I wonder if I should answer it or just ignore it, but my curiosity gets the best of me. I grab a towel and wrap it around myself before walking to the hotel room door.
Peering through the peephole, I see Lycus standing there, looking sheepish.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks, and I hesitate for a moment before opening the door and letting him in.
