AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He frowned. “That fancy new one. I thought it was supposed to be a new Amazon warehouse. The dance is there now. They made the announcement on Monday. Didn’t you . . .” He trailed off before grimacing. “That’s when everything went to shit.”
I cut the rest of the day, not wanting to be around. I’d only talked to Cohen during the week, tuning everything and everyone out.
“What fancy new hotel?”
“The Chelton Hotel. It’s on Dragon Abyss—”
The Chelton?
No, no, no.
My gloves dropped to the ground.
I sprinted for the door.
82
RAMSAY
I’d been to one Chelton Hotel during a field trip to Washington D.C.
A part of me was curious about what one looked like so close to Pine River and Pine Valley. Clint’s friend mentioned Dragon Abyss, and once I got there, I understood. I pulled into the parking lot, the hotel looked like a modern day castle, set on the edge of the highest point over a cliff. Literal fog was floating up from where the ocean waves were crashing in against the rocks, into a small clearing below.
With the forest, mountains, ocean, and cliff, it had a magical, but poignant and mysterious feel.
The inside had a lush red carpet with a gold crest pattern accent set in the carpet. There was gold all over as well—on the elevator, on the counters, on some of the tables set around by a bunch of couches.
A man approached me, wearing a Chelton Hotel uniform and white gloves folded in front of him. “Ma’am, how may I help you?”
I was figuring my dress was a dead giveaway, but I said, “I’m here for the Pine River Homecoming Dance.”
“Ah. Yes. May I enquire as to your name?”
“Ramsay Williams.”
He barely blinked, folding his head slightly. “I’ll escort you. If I may?” He indicated the elevator.
I led the way. He followed at a discrete distance, hitting the elevator button, and once inside, he pressed another button. We went up, and up, and we kept going until we ended on one of the top floors. The door slid open.
He went first, waiting for me to follow, taking me to a double door. He knocked briefly, standing to the side, his hands folded again in front of him as he waited for it to open. Once it did, he stepped forward, his head slightly bent forward.
I couldn’t see who was inside, but all of this for a dance? Kira mentioned we were using one of the suites so was this me getting into that room early? He conversed with whoever was inside before he stepped back, turned to me. “Have a pleasant evening, Miss Williams.”
The elevator doors slid open behind me, and he stepped onto them before the door swept farther open so I could see whoever was inside. A woman was there, maybe in her thirties. Reddish hair swept up in a bun with soft tendrils loose, framing her face. She wore glasses, a pencil skirt, and a soft silk shirt. All lilac colored, the glasses included. She gave me a bare smile, indicating for me to step inside. “Miss Williams, please come in.”
I didn’t move. “What is this?”
She frowned slightly. “Miss Williams?”
“I came here for a Homecoming dance, and I’m doubting Kira is inside waiting to jump out and yell ‘surprise.’ What is this?”
“I don’t know who Kira is.” Her mouth moved slightly, pressing more inwards before she cleared her throat. “Mr. Rothchelton wishes to speak with you.”
Mr. Rothchelton? Chelton?
She was gone before I could regroup enough to ask her. As soon as the door closed behind her, another door on the opposite side of the room opened. An older man strode forward, stopping just inside the door to study me. It was a brief perusal before he dismissed me and went to take a seat on one of the couches. He threw a leg over his other, and placed a hand on the back of the couch, now tipping his head back to give me another study, this time longer.
The brief look had been nothing, as if I were a bug under his feet. The second one he was looking at me with amusement. I was entertaining to him.
“Who are you?”
A different, almost thoughtful, expression flared in his eyes before it was gone. “You don’t know me?”
“The lady said you’re Mr. Rothchelton?” I gazed around, the dots connecting. I hadn’t gone to a penthouse suite. I’d been taken to the presidential suite. “You own this place?”
“I own everything.”
He said it so simply, expecting his words to have power. Knowing they would.
Authority clung to this guy. He was the boss of all bosses, used to everything he said, or even thought, happening before he needed to do anything more than simply stating what he wanted. Mid-sixties. He kept himself trim. Dark hair, long enough where he had a whole curl swirled on the top of his head, probably sprayed to stay in place. He had a goatee, a slight beard. Darkly tanned skin. He could’ve been a villain in a cartoon. I almost expected him to produce a gold cane that he used for decoration or to have handy so he could use it as a weapon.
