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ChapterTen
We were somewherenear the Mission District, and the hotel we walked into was big, easily twenty stories high. The shiny marble floors, golden chairs, fresh flowers, and velvet furniture made me feel like I’d walked into a different world altogether.
“This is where we’re staying?” I said, a bit breathless, and not even ashamed. This place was enormous, and so bright and clean. Not at all what I was used to.
“Yep,” was all Dominic said as he strode to the reception desk, practically dragging me along with him. He wasn’t impressed by the colors or the flowers or the many shiny surfaces that attracted my eyes like magnets. No—he probably was offended by the cleanness around here, too.
I let him handle the reception desk and went to check every little detail in the lobby until my head started buzzing. So many things—like the small vases full of flowers in the corners, so beautifully done with white stained glass and golden vines, and the armchairs with cherry wood tables between them every few feet lining the green walls, and the paintings on those walls, and the thick drapes on the sides of the floor-to-ceiling windows…
“Let’s go.”
A large hand swallowed mine, and I was pulled to the side so fast, I almost tripped.
“Take it easy,” I spit, and he shot me a dirty look.
“You can’t talk to me like that while we’re here,” he snapped.
“Then be more polite.” He was in on this just as much as me. And if he was going to be an asshole boyfriend, I was going to be an asshole girlfriend, too.
A bellboy held the doors to a gold-colored elevator with a huge mirror at its back open for us.
“May I help with these, sir?” he asked Dominic, smiling politely. There. Maybe he could teach this wolf-ass some manners.
“I’m good,” was his response, voice low and angry, like always.
The poor bellboy didn’t even make it inside the car with us.
“We’ll take it from here,” Dominic said, shoving some dollar bills in the boy’s hand.
The doors slid closed, and slow music started coming from somewhere over our heads. I wanted to say about a million things to him, but I bit my tongue and I waited instead. We’d be in the room soon. Then, he’d have no choice but to talk to me and explain everything I’d read on the piece of paper on the plane.
We went up to the thirteenth floor, and when the doors of the car opened, we were greeted with the same kind of perfection as in the lobby. Clean crème-colored walls, a thick brown carpet my sneakers sank into as we walked, dark wooden doors that shone so much, I wondered if they’d been polished just now.
Our room was a suite at the very end of the corridor to our left. Dominic used the key card to open it, and once we were inside, it smelled of roses in there. All the lights turned on when he put the key in the holder, revealing the source of the smell—a large bouquet of white and pink roses sat on top of the white desk near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
It was more beautiful that I had words for.
“Wow, this is—”
“Not yet,” Dominic said and threw his duffle bag on the floor before he started sniffing the air, going close to every corner, every wall, every piece of furniture, while I watched him, speechless.
Eventually, I got tired of waiting for him to check every single thing that was in there. Knowing he wouldn’t even respond to me if I asked to help in finding whatever he was searching for, I proceeded to inspect the place myself—the breathtaking views, the king-sized bed set with golden silk sheets in the separate bedroom, the state-of-the-art bathroom with a shower and a tub smack in the middle of it.
Oh, boy, I could get used to living like this. I could so get used to living like this any day of the week!
I was looking out the large window at the many buildings and the trails of lights the cars left in their wake as they drove down the streets, when the door of the bedroom behind me slammed shut.
I turned to find Dominic with his duffle bag in hand. He threw it to the floor by the door, apparently done with inspecting.
“Clear?” I asked, and he nodded, taking off his leather jacket and throwing it on the bed.
“Looks like it.” He came to the window and yanked the dark brown drapes over it, almost pulling them off in the process.
“Why are you always angry?” I wondered, then bit my tongue.
“I’m not alwaysangry.”
“So, it’s just me then.” Great. Like I care.
