“Would you like all the bags brought up to your rooms and unpacked?” another valet asks, joining us.
Tyler nods in response, and though I want to ask how in the world they’ll be able to tell our bags apart, I keep this question to myself as they begin unloading the bags out in record time.
A woman with white-blonde hair and an elegant suit approaches us with a smile, greeting Tyler again by name.
I stare at Cooper until he feels it and turns to look at me. “Is this a prank?”
Cooper shakes his head. “I think this is how the other half lives.”
It’s difficult to wrap my head around the possibility that enough people can afford to stay at this hotel to allow it to not only remain open but be in nearly every major city across the world.
We step through large glass doors and are greeted by the air-conditioning, which is welcome compared to the humid night. The air smells like vanilla and citrus—rich. I never knew rich had an aroma, but now I’m sure of it as we enter the expansive and elegant lobby, my shoes too loud against the white marble floor. Vaulted ceilings make me tip my head back to see the coffered ceiling several stories above. A round table that could entertain fifty is covered by a bouquet of exotic flowers—real flowers. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed at a hotel with real flowers or with perfumed air.
I lower my gaze to keep myself from openly gawking and follow the others to the front desk to check in.
“You’re staring,” Cooper whispers.
There’s too much to see to look at him. “Why aren’t you? This place is crazy.”
He chuckles, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Way better than the trip you were planning with Meredith, am I right?”
“Too soon,” I tell him, shrugging off his touch.
“Greetings. Welcome to New Orleans! I hope you all had a nice trip here. My name’s Natasha Benting, and I’m the general manager. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Banks.” A woman wearing a pristine navy suit and coral blouse greets us, her dark hair flawlessly curled. She’s probably forty but looks twenty as she smiles at us with a practiced grace that makes her look like she walked off a Hollywood film set. Paired with her Southern accent, it makes her the definition of a Southern belle. I’m not even remotely shocked to find Cooper and Tyler both staring at her for a full second while the woman recites a list of things about the accommodations and the hotel before confirming Tyler’s meetings tomorrow.
Meetings?
I want to ask Cooper what the meetings are for but don’t. The car ride here and all of our laughing created a false sense of friendship that just proves why I don’t trust Tyler. I don’t doubt where our alliances and the lines of our relationship have been drawn and have no interest in approaching them.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I’m the only one to blame.
I know the rules.
What’s more, I know the score.
“Please follow me to your room,” Natasha says, moving out from the desk with a stack of key cards in her perfectly manicured nails. It’s not her fault I’m measuring myself against her, comparing all of her perfections to my imperfections and feeling slightly more defensive and inadequate with each one noted.
A man moves to take her place behind the desk. He has dark brown hair and blue eyes that are a shade so dark they’re nearly violet. He’s striking and so distracting I nearly collide with Cooper as he starts to move forward.
Nessie chuckles, grabbing my hand and spinning me around to follow them into the massive lobby. “Do they hire models here?” I ask as I steal another look back at the guy who grins at me before he winks and makes me feel like I’ve just won front-row tickets to a concert.
“Is this a freaking atrium?” Nessie asks. “Oh my gosh, there are crocodiles! Chloe, are you seeing this?” she whisper-yells, clinging to my arm as she points at a sign.
Tyler glances at us, and Nessie tries to smile and play it cool although she’s visibly still bouncing and freaking out as we stare with wide eyes at the lobby and the glass ceiling.
Natasha leads us to the bank of elevators and goes to the one on the far right. “You’ll need to remember that this is the only elevator that goes up to the presidential suite,” she explains.
Presidential suite?
Nessie’s fingers dig into my arm with the same thought.
The doors open immediately, revealing white marble tiles patterned with smaller black and gray ones. The walls are dark wood with carved accents. There’s a large ornate mirror on the opposite side of the doors, and below it is a leather bench seat.
“Oh my gosh,” I whisper as quietly as I can manage. “There’s a couch in the elevator.”
“They don’t get out much,” Cooper says, ushering us forward when the others remain still, waiting for us to step inside the elevator’s cab.
“Sorry,” I say, quickly moving forward.
Natasha swipes one of the key cards and hits the top floor: eighteen.
“Do you guys have plans for tonight? Do you need any dinner reservations? Chef Babineaux is here tonight, and she’s prepared numerous specialties and would be honored for you all to dine in the restaurant,” she says.
Tyler nods. “That will be great. We’ll be down in an hour.”
Natasha nods. “Most certainly. Your table will be ready.”
The doors open with a chime, leading straight into a massive and elaborate space with no additional door or hallway. We step right into a foyer with bright white tiles that gleam from the warm lights that fill and warm the space. More fresh flowers are set on a round table; all perfect blooms. Ahead of us is the fanciest living room I’ve
