“Anything?”
Smiling at me, he says, “Come on,” as he leads me back to his office. He then gets on the phone telling whoever is on the other end to prepare a penthouse suite with all amenities and to bring him the key.
When he hangs up, I tell him, “You didn’t have to do that. I don’t need the penthouse.”
“You’ll be next to me. This way you won’t be tempted to sneak out and play in the elevators,” he jokes as if I’m some teenager.
“Next to you?” I question.
“I occupy one of the penthouses.”
“You live here?”
“No,” he replies. “I have a loft in River North, but I house a room here as well for when I’m too tired to drive home, or in this case, get stuck in a blizzard.”
“River North? I would’ve thought you lived here in the loop.”
“Too pretentious for me. No offense.”
“Says the man who drives a pretentious car,” I tease with a smile, and suddenly, all the tension and frustration from earlier seems to let up as we lightly poke fun at each other.
“Well, I can’t argue the car, but it’s nice to leave the loop at the end of the day and escape to a place that’s a bit more low-key.”
He says this and I think back to the breakfast diner he took me to the other week. Declan definitely looks the part and has the name that follows, but I wonder how much of it is really him. River North is full of wealth these days, but he’s right, it’s not pretentious.
After a while, when one of the staff delivers my room key, I follow Declan as he shows me to my room. Only two suites occupy the top floor, which is only accessible by the occupants—Declan and myself.
“This is you,” he says as he walks me over to the left side of the elevator banks.
“Thank you.”
“I’m on the other side,” he tells me. “So if you need anything . . .”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure.
“Dinner later?”
“I’m pretty full from Marco’s meal,” I say. “I think I’ll make it an early night.”
As I turn to unlock the door, he adds, “Like I said, if you need anything, let me know.”
“Night, Declan,” I say and then walk into the room, letting the door shut behind me.
Looking around, the walls are solid floor to ceiling windows showcasing the twinkling lights of the city that’s now covered in a blanket of snow. The space is large, with an open-concept living room, dining room, and kitchen. All of which are furnished in sleek upholstery and rich leather. I note the fireplace that is situated in a smaller sitting area that’s set off from the rest of the room in a sunken section a couple steps down. I make my way into the bedroom that’s lined with the same panoramic windows. I lay my coat and purse down on the plush white linens and go into the bathroom. I laugh at the extremities Declan’s staff went to when I see every toiletry you could possibly need, plus a two-piece set of pajamas folded inside a shopping bag from Roslyn Boutique. Picking them up, I note the designer. The length that this hotel went to is no doubt a simple favor to myself. Lotus is known for its exclusivity and privacy for its patrons. Not anyone can just walk in and book a room.
After settling in, changing into the pajamas, and making a cup of hot tea, I sit on the floor with my legs crossed, knees pressed against the cold window as I watch the snow fall down on the city below. I think about how to use this night to my advantage with Declan. I know I should find my way to his room, and start to go through a variety of reasons for why I would go knocking on his door.
Time passes as I get lost in thought, and when I look over to the clock sitting on one of the end tables, it reads 10:23 pm. Setting my mug on the floor beside me, my mind drifts to Pike, and I can’t help the guilt that passes through as I think about him in that cold, dilapidated trailer while I’m sitting on top of the city. The click of a door steers me away from Pike, and when I turn to look over my shoulder, I see Declan.
“What are you doing on the floor in the dark?” he asks as he walks across the large living room towards me.
“Do you make it a habit of breaking in to your guests’ hotel rooms?”
With a grin, he says, “Technically, I didn’t break in.” He holds up a key card before dropping it on the coffee table when he walks past it.
“You could have knocked.”
He steps next to me as I sit on the floor, and I have to tilt my head back to look up at him. He stands with his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he looks out the window.
“I love the snow,” he murmurs, and without thinking, I agree, “I do too.”
He looks down at me, his face shadowed in the darkened room. “Are you okay?” he asks, concerned for some reason.
“Why?”
“Because I come to check on you and you’re on the floor pressed up against the window without a single light on. Seems sad.”
I turn my attention back to the city below when I respond, “I like watching the snow fall.”
He sits down next to me, his knee touching mine. I allow a few moments of silence to pass before saying, “Thank you.”
“For?”
“The room,” I tell him. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s just a room, Nina,” he says, downplaying the scale of his hotel as he keeps his focus on the snow.
“Lotus,” I say, acknowledging the name of the hotel. “Interesting choice. Why Lotus?”
“There’s something about a beautiful, nearly flawless flower, emerging from muddled water.”
“Hmm.” I pause before stating, “Self-reflection,” inferring that the meaning strikes a chord with himself.
Tilting his head to look at me, his breath feathering my cheek, he says, “Is this you trying to dissect me?”
“Is there something lying beneath that I should be looking for?”
“Everyone has something beneath that they’re hiding.” He peers into me. At least that’s what he wants me to believe, but I’m not permeable. I soften anyway, giving him the sense that he’s actually having an effect on me. I blink a few times and shift myself, cueing him that I’m nervous, and then he asks, “So what is it? Tell me what you think you’ve found.”
Taking in a deep breath, I release it with my theory. “You have a distaste for the business that owns your name.”
He doesn’t move, and I add, “Or maybe your distaste is for your father.”
“Interesting. Why bring him up?”
I smile and say, “Come on. We’ve both met the man. He’s a bastard; you said it yourself the other day.”
Declan laughs under his breath, saying “You’re not delicate with your words, are you?”
“Did I give you the impression that I’m delicate?”
With a soft hum, he gives me an inquisitive look, and then asks, “What about your father?”
He catches me slightly off guard. A pinprick in the one soft spot that I’ve never been able to harden.
You want to know my weakness?
Well, there it is.
I miss my father.
Shifting the focus, I redirect, saying, “We’re not talking about me, remember?”
“Of course.”
“Do you even get along with him?”
“As well as anyone else does,” he answers.
“That’s a very political answer.”
With his hand, he brushes my cheek slightly as he takes a lock of my hair and tucks it behind my ear, saying, “Whether or not you’re in politics, everything is political. We all save face for others to perceive us in the best light. Nothing is real until you break down the walls and reveal the ugliness.”
“Ugliness,” I repeat as I look at him.
“The truest part of a person is always the ugliest. And with your evasiveness, I would bet that you’re pretty damn ugly beneath all that gloss.”
He keeps a straight face as he says this, and the truth behind his words irritates me. I know I’m ugly. Uglier than most. I’m tarnished and decrepit, but I’ll be damned if I ever let him or anyone else see the wretched heart that beats inside of me.