“I’ve taken the liberty of upgrading you to your usual Presidential Suite,” Mr. Parker said. “And Miss Rossi, we hope you’ll be comfortable next door in the Oriental Suite.”
Shit, Andrew had clearly changed his preferences slightly since Joanna left. The manual didn’t say anything about the Presidential Suite. I should have thought to ask before I booked.
Wait, what did he say? Next door? To my boss?
“Oh, I’m happy with the original room I booked—”
Mr. Parker raised his hand to stop my objection. “We insist. It’s always a delight to have Mr. Blake to stay, and it’s nice to welcome home a native New Yorker.”
We exited the elevator to find just two doors in front of us. Were our two suites taking up the entire floor? That was crazy. This hotel was huge.
“Your bags are already in your rooms. Mr. Blake, we have George unpacking for you. You know that he is available to you twenty-four hours a day. Can I arrange for some food to be sent up? George can prepare your drinks.”
Who was George? Apparently, some kind of multi-tasking Superman who knew Andrew’s likes and dislikes a hell of a lot better than I did.
“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Parker. You and your team always make me feel at home and I’m grateful.” He shook the manager’s hand. Mr. Parker opened the Presidential Suite door and Andrew disappeared behind it.
Mr. Parker turned to me. “We can arrange butler service for you too, if you’d like?”
I tried not to laugh. “Thank you, but I quite like to unpack myself.”
“Can I show you around your room?”
“Honestly, I just want to get into the shower and turn on some American TV. I’ve missed it.”
Mr. Parker smiled and gave a little bow. “Very well. I’m at your beck and call. Enjoy your stay, Miss Rossi.”
I slipped into my suite and closed the door behind me. I might be home, but this wasn’t the New York I’d come to know and love for almost thirty years.
After a shower so long and so hot I was surprised I didn’t shrivel up into a dehydrated version of myself, I called my mom. She delivered a brief lecture on how I should have made it across town to see her this evening despite an eight-hour flight and the obligations of the job paying me to be here. I wasn’t sure if I’d have enough time after the meeting to see her, but I promised to make it up to her somehow. Then I dried my hair.
I should have been exhausted, but what I wanted to do was hear some American voices and drink a Manhattan in Manhattan.
I was in New York. Back home. And that gave me more energy than I knew what to do with.
I applied a dash of makeup, slipped on a casual shift dress, and headed down to the bar. There were a thousand places I’d been to in this city, but I’d never made it to the hotel bar in the Mandarin Oriental.
I wanted to try it.
And I wanted to see if James was there, too.
Twenty-Four
Andrew
I saw her as soon as I entered the MO Lounge. She was chatting to the barman, which caused a now-familiar pang of jealousy to twist in my gut.
I didn’t want conversation. I’d just gotten off the phone from Tristan, who was also in town. We’d agreed to meet up tomorrow night. I didn’t want to drink in the Manhattan skyline; I had a better view from my room.
So why was I here?
I strode across the lounge and slipped onto the barstool next to Sofia.
She turned to me, entirely unsurprised by my arrival.
“Good evening,” she said. “My name is . . . Bianca.”
She was ridiculous.
The barman slid a glass of my favorite Barolo in front of me. I thanked him with a nod.
“How do you do that?” she asked. “It’s like everyone knows who you are and what you want. Is it Jedi mind tricks? Is that the secret?”
“If it was, I’m pretty sure my assistants would have a better turnover rate.”
“Oh, he speaks.”
I took a sip of wine while Sofia continued to complain and gripe over . . . I wasn’t quite sure what exactly. Perhaps she was nervous about the meeting tomorrow. Maybe being back here triggered something for her. Whatever it was, I didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. And I didn’t appreciate the non-stop noise. She was still in work mode.
I was not.
“Can we not do this?” I asked her. I wanted to relax. I wanted half a chance of sleep tonight. I didn’t want to be berated about my lack of social skills. I hated travelling. It was far too easy to waste a day doing nothing when you were in transit, so in every moment that I wasn’t walking from one designated area to another, I ensured I was doing something productive—emails, reviewing research, reading articles. Anything but inane chitchat and a rewatch of Mamma Mia! Once was more than enough.