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She declines my call, but quickly sends a text message.
Glad u made it! I kno we said we’d do lunch but change of plans. I won’t see u til later.
My frown sprawls across my face. I hurry up and text back asking what happened. Her answer is even more cryptic.
Can’t say. Should see u later.
“Anything else, miss?” the bellboy asks as we reach my door.
“No, that’s it. Thank you,” I say, slipping him his tip. I wait until he disappears down the hall before I shut the door to my suite. Rather than go back and forth via text with Tasha, I decide to try and call her again.
That call is immediately declined too. Unease flutters in my stomach. Something’s wrong.
I told u I can’t talk right now.
My brows knit staring at her latest text message. Tasha might hide bits and pieces of her business from most people, but I’m not most people—I’m her best friend. Usually, she’ll at least tell me what’s up if something important has happened. Why the sudden secrecy?
I’m on the verge of letting it go and giving her a couple hours when there’s a loud thud on the opposite side of my suite’s wall. Tasha and Kilroy are right next-door. Is she in their suite? Would it be too much if I go knock?
Instead, with my unease only growing, I text her again.
I hope everything’s ok.
No response. A sigh rolls out of me as I toss my phone on the bed and resign myself to spending the afternoon alone. If I’d known I wasn’t even going to get to see her for most of the day, I probably would’ve backed out. At least I’d be within the comfort of my home at my apartment in Santa Cruz.
The suite in the Venetian is extravagant, with a way-too-large bed and complimentary champagne for me to enjoy, but it’s not home. It’s some empty, sterile hotel room where I’m out of my element.
I decide on a shower, letting it run for a couple minutes as I unpack my toiletry items.
Someone knocks on my door.
I freeze and look up, spending a second wondering who it could be. Since Tasha’s ignored my last text, it must be the bellboy. He’d mentioned some of their VIP services. Maybe he’s back to brief me some more.
The knock sounds again as I approach the door and check the peephole. I hurry to wrench the door open.
“Tasha!” I say brightly, moving to hug her.
But then I stop when I spot the split in her lip and giant sunglasses on her face.
This can’t be good.
