So. Yeah.
I don’t know how she managed to move so fast and do what she did, but I’m prouder of her than words can say right now.
“You think anyone else saw?” Penelope asks me, her voice trembling with emotion, and fear now.
“My driver is solid, if that’s what you mean,” I try to joke, but I can see she’s upset now that the adrenalin has worn off.
“I’ll take care of it,” I assure her, promising that nothing’s gonna happen to her, or to me.
Nothing bad is ever gonna happen to either of us.
“Nothing,” I remind her firmly, taking her face in my hands before kissing her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Penelope
There’s no need to park around the back once we pull up to the hotel, which although not far from where we just were, nobody bats an eyelid as doors are held open for Jett Masters and his guest.
The driver asks if Jett still needs him, to which Jett nods.
“Stay close for a bit. I’ll let you know how we get on,” he says, already making me feel like I’m in way over my head.
The hotel is like a million stories high, and I know from my own research for articles that only the very wealthiest people can afford to have coffee in the restaurant let alone stay here.
“My suite is all the way at the top,” Jett explains as we near the elevators.
The concierge seemed more interested in Jett than he did me, so my continuing fears about not fitting into his world have been proven imaginary yet again.
Right before we enter the VIP elevator, Jett stops, grips my wrist, and tugs at it as I join him behind a huge potted palm, barely big enough to hide his huge frame and mine together.
He’s spotted something or someone and wants to hang back before heading up to his suite.
I know to keep quiet, and once I feel him tense up next to me, I wonder just how much drama is in this guy’s life off stage as well as on it.
“What is it?” I finally hiss in a whisper, straining to see anything except palm fronds from my height.
He motions me to be still and quiet, and I risk a peep around the greenery, spotting a group of three men shaking hands, about to go into the private bar area.
“Well he hasn’t shown up or answered his phone, so I’d say we have an hour or two at least.” One of the men says cheerfully.
I wonder about Jett maybe just being paranoid, but his eyes narrow and I can feel his mind turning something over.
Without a word, we’re in the elevator and zooming up to the top floor. It's two steps from the elevator to the massive doors of his suite.
He doesn’t say a word until we’re inside, carefully bolting the door as well as fixing the chains on it.
“Escape artists habit?” I try to joke, but Jett is preoccupied with something bigger than my dad jokes and stalks across the room.
I feel like a fish out of water again, but give him the space he needs.
“That was my agent in the lobby,” he finally says softly, turning to face me after spending a moment looking out the huge floor to ceiling windows.
He’s a big guy, and the suite is the only place I’ve seen that makes him look smaller.
It’s an incredible space, but I’m dying to know what he’s talking about.
“My agent, my lawyer, and the CEO of the biggest prison company in the state,” he adds gravelly, not even looking at me.
I have no idea what any of it means, but I can tell it’s got Jett rattled.
The man I thought was unshakable looks visibly disturbed by something.
Suddenly my own little trick with the phones down the drain seems like nothing compared to the dark look on Jett’s face.
He fumbles for his phone, and curses as he waits for it to power up.
Both of us switched our phones off for the day, and seeing him switch his on makes me think of work.
Home…
The word is redundant in this suite though.
The view, the rooms. Jett…
I know I’m not going back somehow. I can just feel it.
Jett gives a little grunt, shifts closer, and apologizes for acting like a lunatic.
“Sorry, baby. Just those three in a meeting, without me? I smell a rat. And Miles, as my agent would only ever be seeing my lawyer, not that other guy… Or so I thought.”
My silent look of confusion draws an explanation from him.
“I mean that he’s up to something. They all are,” he says, twisting his tight lips before scratching them with his top teeth as he thinks.
Checking his messages and texts.
“Weird.” Is all he says, then checking I’m still there, paying attention, he asks if I’d mind if we laid low for a while.