Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
My heart rate increases when I spot the shadow of my building in the glass structure across from me. This building is taller than those surrounding it, meaning its rooftop would be the perfect vantage point to see the stars I haven’t stared at in over nine years.
My cell didn’t have a window. I was housed in J block, an octagon-shaped windowless structure. The last time I stargazed was the night my life was upended. It’s been far too long, but I’m not given the chance to rectify the injustice when a phone on the bedside table commences hollering.
It is loud and obnoxious, on par with the man who tosses a pillow at the noisy contraption before rolling onto his opposite hip with a grumble.
River doesn’t budge when the pillow lands on his head for a second before I squash the phone to my ear. He’s out cold again.
“Hello…”
I assume my caller is Knox since he is the only person who knows I’m here, so you can picture my shock when a deep elderly voice asks, “Mr. Howell?”
“That’s the name I was lumped with at birth.”
He waits like he has all day before announcing, “It is James from the concierge. I have a special package here for you to collect.”
“Oh…” I peer down at my skintight jeans before slinging my eyes to the empty closet at my left. Knox alluded to a new wardrobe, but I only found extra pillows in the closet. “Can someone bring it up?”
“Unfortunately, I am the only concierge undertaking such requests at this time.” Suspicion runs rampant when he adds, “I also think it would be best for you to collect the packages yourself. I wasn’t given much to go off, so I can’t be confident in my selections.”
Packages? That escalated quickly.
“All right.” Don’t ask me why I scan the room for the second time. I have no clue what I am seeking. I’m just telling you how it is. “I’ll be right down.”
James sounds pleased. “Wonderful. See you shortly.”
After hanging up, I scribble a note to River to let him know where I am, toss on the only other article of clothing I left prison with—a bulky jacket rarely used in this climate—and then exit my suite with more spring in my step than usual.
I curse my stupidity to hell when I enter the elevator. It only goes one way when you don’t scan your key. To the lobby. Since Knox only handed me cash and condoms, I’ll have to visit the check-in counter for a key before I can return to my floor.
When I approach the concierge desk, a man with platinum-blond hair and a huge grin greets me with a head bob.
“James?” I ask, shocked. He looks heaps younger than his voice.
“James is outside… assisting a guest with a special order.” A red hue hits the stranger’s cheeks. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Straightening up, I reply, “He called saying I had a package to collect.”
While scrolling a finger down a thick wad of papers, the concierge asks, “Floor number?”
“Thirty-seven,” I reply after quickly pausing to recall the markings outside the elevator doors.
His hue deepens, stretching to his ears, before he stops scrolling the list of guest names and returns his eyes to mine. “Yes, well, they shouldn’t be too much longer.” He arches over his podium-like desk before whispering in a sneering tone, “Most gents wait in their room for their package to arrive.”
“James asked me to come down because he wasn’t confident with his selections.”
His shock is as elevated as mine was only minutes ago. “Selections?” I swear this man’s face is the color of a tomato. “As in more than one?”
I lift my chin before nudging my head to multiple glossy bags on a counter behind him. “Are you sure they’re not the packages I’m meant to collect?” I say “packages” with the same high squawk everyone else has used tonight.
The concierge coughs, scoffs, then reluctantly checks the tags on the designer-looking bags when my arched brow announces I’m not accepting a scoff as an answer.
“Oh…” His eyes are back on me in an instant. They’re full of silent apologies. “Laken Howell?”
His flustered expression reminds me of the giggled greetings I received whenever I attended parties during my final year of high school. It gives me a boost in confidence I haven’t experienced in almost a decade. “The one and only.”
“I’m so sorry, sir,” he gabbers out while pulling the packages down and rounding the counter at the speed of light. “When you asked for James and said you had a package to collect, I misunderstood.” He hands me the glossy bags that are heavier than they look. “I profusely apologize for the confusion.”
“It’s fine. Truly.” Once the bags are distributed evenly between both hands, I say, “Though I’d appreciate your assistance in getting me back to my room. I left my key on the nightstand.”