Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
The hotel User 1222 has booked is one of the big chain ones, nothing too special or extravagant. I click arrived on the app at just before seven p.m. and await my instructions.
You’re booked in under Holly Reynolds. Check in at reception. The room has been paid in advance.
I feel like a fraud as I head up to one of the receptionists, which is dumbass, since they are hardly going to try to validate my passport details before letting me into a pre-paid for room for the night.
“Holly Reynolds,” I say to the smiling blonde woman, and she keys in my name.
“Superior deluxe, yes?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Nice. He’s gone for deluxe. What a gentleman.
“My partner won’t be joining me until later,” I tell her, then lay on the act. “He’s going to be flying in late, so I think he’ll be grabbing his key card when he arrives. Might not be until around midnight.”
The receptionist pushes her glasses up her nose and leans in closer to the screen.
“He’s already checked in, actually.”
The blood drains from my face.
“He has?”
“He checked in an hour ago.” She pauses. “Ian Reynolds. Yes, he checked in.”
My heart pounds like a beast as I keep the smile on my face. I give my bag a fake dig around as though I’m looking for my phone.
“I must have missed his call. I thought his flight was going to be delayed…”
I hope she’s buying into it. Not that it really matters.
She points down the corridor. “He went through to the bar once he checked in. He’s probably still in there.”
“Right,” I say, keeping my fake grin in place. “That’s fantastic. Great news.”
“Room 151,” she tells me, scanning my room key card and handing it over. “The elevator is over there.”
She points along the same damn corridor as the bar and I get an instant buzz. I’m going to have to walk past the interior windows. My adrenaline has put paid to any sleepiness as I scoot away from the reception desk. I chide myself for being so careless. I should have made more effort than jeans, a cami and a furry coat. Damnit. I jab at the up button as fast as I can on the elevator and dive on in when it pings, relieved to be out of sight.
I take a few deep breaths when I reach the room, in case I cross paths with my anonymous somno client too early, but when the key light flashes green and I swing the door open, there is no sign of him. No luggage, no used tea or coffee supplies. Just a big, perfectly made up king-size bed with a desk, a huge wall-mounted TV, and a spacious ensuite. I dump my bag next to the bed and flop down on the mattress in relief. So, what do I do from here?
I could race back to my place and re-dress myself like a prom queen, but the proposal wanted a sleeping beauty, not a gothic supermodel. A tired sleeping beauty, too exhausted to wake up when a guy starts fucking her in the middle of the night.
I walk over to the mirror to examine how I look, and tired definitely fits the bill. Really fucking tired, despite the adrenaline rush.
But that’s a good thing… now isn’t the time for foundation or contouring. My entertainer side clicks into place, and I’m Holly Reynolds. An exhausted woman, desperate to get a bit of dinner and go to bed as soon as she possibly can.
I put my long black hair up in a messy bun, pulling some strands free on purpose, and it works. I’m looking even more exhausted. Poor Holly Reynolds would happily sleep for a week in such a comfy bed as the one in this room. But Holly needs to get something to eat first. Sensible girl.
Then I spot the room-service menu on the desk and confusion hits. What if he’s not in the bar, waiting, watching? What if eating in the bar isn’t part of the deal? My client never mentioned it in the proposal. Fuck, it’s tempting to just pick up the phone and lie back and wait for food to come to me. I’m on the fence, and I’m fucking buzzing. And I know why I’m buzzing. I’m buzzing because Holly wants to go down there. Holly wants to be seen in the flesh by the anonymous beast that’s going to fuck her in her sleep.
I laugh to myself. Of course I’m going down for dinner.
I unpack my toiletries to stake my claim on the room before I lie my satin slip nightdress on the bed, ready for sleep time, and then curse myself again for wearing just a cami. I decide to keep my coat on for now and I leave for the bar. I’m on full alert, but nobody crosses my path as I ride the elevator back down. It makes the tidal wave of noise seem all the more dramatic when the doors ping open at the bottom.