Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Not wanting to discuss this or anything more with my father, I reach for the bill and charge it to my room. “I’ll be sure to do that,” I finally say. “I know who is overseeing the guest list. I’ll add you.”
As I get up to leave to go back to my room so I can have some peace, he gives his one last jab. “I suggest you stay away from that Valentina chick. Fuck her to get it out of your system if you need to, but then stay the hell away. Women like that can mess with a man’s head.”
“Women like what?” I ask between clenched teeth as my blood pressure rises. I can’t decide if my bubbling fury is because he’s making Valentina sound like a cheap prostitute, or that he’s not appreciative of the fact that she came to us with information that could involve our lives, or if he’s just a dick in general.
“Beautiful, intelligent…but ambitious,” he answers, breaking my thoughts. “Ambition is dangerous, and that girl is hungry. She’ll take you down as she climbs to the top.”
I don’t say anything more as I head to the thirteenth floor. It seems conversations with my father of late either make me feel like shit or make me want to punch shit. Today is a mixture of both. As I reach my room and swipe my keycard, I’m annoyed it’s not opening as fast as I’d like. I swipe it again, and again. Nothing.
Fucking hell. It’s always the way. When you’re at your max, the universe just keeps piling on. I turn on my heels and head to Dex’s office on the same floor as me so he can get a key that actually works. This shouldn’t be a big deal, but my nerves are on edge because of my father, and I just need a few minutes to chill rather than hunting down someone to let me in my hotel room. The floor is super quiet, however, and I see Dex is nowhere to be found and realize I have no choice but to go down to the lobby.
Trying to keep my cool so I’m not one of those entitled assholes demanding a head for being put out, I calmly make my way to the lobby to get a new key. As I get off the elevator, I see the owner of The Whitney—Katja Belov—the minute I step off. She’s always a sight for sore eyes as her stunning beauty makes a man—even a grumpy man—pause and take her in. Yes, the woman is spoken for by Dex, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take a minute to appreciate—respectfully so. Every red-blooded man would.
“Atlas, what a surprise to see you. Were you having lunch at The Rooftop?”
I smile. “It’s the best bar and food in New York City. There isn’t another place I’d rather be.”
Her cheeks pinken slightly as she smiles and nods. “I’m glad to hear it. You’re always welcome at The Whitney.”
I hold out my keycard to her. “My keycard disagrees. It seems it’s not letting me into my room. Maybe I demagnetized it or something. I’ll need another one.”
Katja’s brows pinch together and her eyes narrow. With a slight tilt of her head, she says, “I’m confused. You checked out this morning.”
“Checked out?”
“That’s why I was surprised to still see you still here in the lobby. Our records show you had an early check out.”
“I didn’t check out.”
“Follow me, for a moment and we’ll get it figured out,” she says as she places her delicate hand on my upper arm to guide me to the front desk. When we approach, she asks the lady working the desk, “Can you pull up room—”
“1304,” I finish for her.
“1304, and see what comes up,” she continues. “Mr. Giannopoulos.”
The lady smiles and nods as she types on the computer. She takes a second to read the screen, and then says, “It says you checked out this morning. But there’s a note that’s been left for you.” Without saying another word, she walks over to a drawer and pulls out an envelope. She then comes back and hands it to me. “Here you go.”
I take the envelope, noticing the letter “A” written on it in handwriting I recognize. I don’t want to open the envelope—especially with Katja still standing next to me confused on what’s going on. Not feeling like I have a choice, I open the envelope and pull out a note that reads:
A shame that you’ll be leaving New York and returning to London. This city isn’t for everyone. But if I ever cross the pond, I’ll be sure to look you up so we can share a cup of tea and a crumpet.
~V
Swallowing back my anger, I calmly fold the note, smile at Katja, and say, “I’ll be needing to check back in. There’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not leaving.”